“We did what we could,” Jaymes said dryly. “I don’t think we could have held out any longer if they had attacked one last time.”
Rene shrugged but looked at the warrior shrewdly. “Apparently they didn’t have the stomach for tremendous losses. The plainsmen report that the whole horde has moved on-apparently they’re heading for Thelgaard. And the river is falling-the ford will be useable by tonight, I’m guessing.”
Jaymes nodded. Sir Rene rubbed a hand across his mustache then looked at the warrior. He gestured to the more than a hundred goblin corpses scattered around the wheel house.
“Lots of burns on these bastards. That’s probably one thing that scared them off.”
The warrior narrowed his eyes, said nothing.
“I’m going to send a report to the dukes. They’ll need to know about this battle. For one thing, first reports suggested this enemy was untrained, but I will suggest that is not the case.”
Jaymes nodded. “They attacked in some semblance of rank-they could do a lot of damage, with good training.”
“And I’ll be telling them about the brave defense. About the warrior with the sword who stood alone before the wheelhouse and left a hundred dead goblins, many of them burned.”
“That may be true enough,” Jaymes replied cautiously.
“I’ll be sending my report with a courier first thing in the morning,” Sir Rene said, awkwardly. “Just in case… you know. In case you are the modest type and want to cross the river this evening and get out of here before my report arrives in Caergoth.”
The warrior nodded. “We’ll be on our way.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The lone knight spurred his horse, urging the animal to greater speed. Mud sucked at the hooves, and the animal staggered but found the strength to plunge ahead, raggedly cantering across the flat ground. Eyes bulging, nostrils flaring, the war-horse persevered, carrying the weary rider through the graying twilight. Finally the army camp materialized in the dusk, a scattering of smoky fires, sodden tents, and apprehensive troops.
The big horse slowed as it stumbled past the outer pickets. The knight guided it between the aisles of tents toward the largest canvas shelter in the encampment. The banner of Thelgaard, a white crown on a black field, hung limply from the tall staff, dripping water that pooled unnoticed among the soaked expanse.
Guardsmen made way for the rider. One, taking note of the rose emblazoned on the man’s breastplate, turned and shouted, “A messenger from Caergoth arrives!”
Duke Jarrod emerged from the tent, shrugging an oilskin cape over his broad shoulders, looming above the attendants and nobles clustered around him. His beard bristled, and his huge hands were clenched, as if he sought already to strike a blow against some new foe.
“What word from your lord, man?” Jarrod demanded, his voice booming out as the horseman reined in.
“Duke Walker’s vanguard is eight miles away-the bulk of his army no more than twelve, Excellency,” reported the rider, slipping from the saddle and kneeling on the muddy ground before Jarrod. “He is making camp for the night but expects to cross the river first thing in the morning. He will arrive here by mid-day.”
“Ah, you bring good news, at last,” the huge lord said, his bearded face breaking into a broad grin, fists unclenching as he clapped his hands in relief. “With Caergoth beside us, we will bring this rabble to heel for good!” He turned to one of his officers. “Captain Dayr-send word to Duke Rathskell. We will count on him to hold the left and let Caergoth fill the middle as soon as he crosses the river. My own force shall stand here on the left, anchored on the bank of the Upper Vingaard.”
“Very good, Excellency,” Dayr said with a nod. He was a smaller version of his lord, bearded and swarthy, with well-muscled forearms outlined by the black silk of his soaking sleeves. He hastened away, calling for a scribe to ready pen and parchment.
More shouts came from guards at the eastern edge of the encampment, and before Dayr had even finished the flowery introduction-he was still reciting “Lord of the Sword, Master of the Garnet Spur”-the intended recipient came riding up to the headquarters tent with an entourage of a dozen officers and nobles.
“My lord!” exclaimed Thelgaard in genuine surprise, as Duke Nathias Rathskell of Solanthus slid from his saddle with a dancer’s grace. His thin rapier was, as usual, balanced at his side, but he looked down in distaste as his feet sank a couple of inches into the muddy ground of his rival’s camp. “I had just ordered word sent to you-we hear that Caergoth is but a half day’s march away.”
Rathskell’s thin face brightened a bit at this news, but his familiar scowl returned. “That is indeed encouraging,” Rathskell allowed, “but we must needs address the gap between our forces. I stand east of the river, in line and ready to meet the foe coming up from the south. I had expected that you would draw out your own force to meet me. We now have a gap of some two miles between our forces.”
Thelgaard waved away the complaint. “That gap is Caergoth’s. He will have five thousand men across the river in the morning. They will secure our center.”
The Duke of Solanthus peered to the west. “How do you know he will come?” he asked.
Jarrod gestured to the recently arrived messenger, who hurried forward and repeated his lord’s declaration. Still, Solanthus remained unconvinced. “My own outriders report that the horde is but a day’s march south of us. If Caergoth is delayed, we leave ourselves open to defeat in detail. The gap is a danger.
“Bring your forces up to mine, then,” Thelgaard said with an indifferent shrug. “I have my own right anchored on the Upper Vingaard, and I do not care to relinquish that security. If you are too timid to await developments on the plain, all you need do is march into the gap on your right, joining me here. You should have nothing to fear, then.”
Rathskell glowered but managed to suppress his anger and reply. “A simple march, at night, in the rain, leaving my tents and baggage train exposed? I think not. Besides, I am stretched thin as it is, and if I pull too far this way I leave our whole force open to a flanking maneuver, if this Ankhar takes his troops on a wide circuit away from the river.”
“You give this scoundrel, this half-giant leading the ogre horde, credit for cleverness he does not possess,” said Thelgaard.
“He was clever enough to overwhelm Garnet in one afternoon,” Solanthus responded. “I would have a care not to underestimate him, if I were you.”
“You worry about your concerns, and I will worry about mine. Did you not hear about Mason’s Ford? Five days ago, a few knights and a rabble of peasants were enough to give these wretches pause. Do not inflate your fears, my good duke.”
Rathskell’s face flushed at the insult, but he grimaced and once again maintained his poise. “Yes, I heard about that fight-and a noble stand it was. Perhaps this barbarian, this Ankhar, will learn from his mistakes. He has crossed the North Garnet and comes toward us swiftly enough. He may not repeat his blunt tactics again.”
“You jabber like an old woman! He is a monster, an illiterate subhuman!” Thelgaard proclaimed, to the approving nods of his own entourage. Let his men see how a real lord infused his men with confidence!
“Surely you can spare a screening force, at least? Horsemen who could cover the gap and report on any developments?” Though Rathskell was making an effort to be reasonable, his mustache was quivering with indignation. “You have yourself in a square formation here, covering a mere quarter mile of frontage, with half your force arranged solidly on the riverbank. I have the same amount of men spread out in a line two miles long!”
“Your deployments are your own concern, of course,” Jarrod of Thelgaard replied. “I have simply taken wise precautions to see that I cannot be outflanked. I do not intend to place the safety of my army in the hands of anyone other than myself.”
“Suit yourself, then,” Solanthus replied through clenched teeth. “You well know that I cannot close the gap, since I would place both of our forces open to a flanking run across the plains-and it would cut me off from my own city, if Ankhar moves east. We must count on Caergoth to uphold his promise. But if they come through that gap, Excellency”-he sneered at the honorific-“you understand that you will be on your own.”
