on his throne. Again he placed a hand to his temple, then said, ‘What is this talk of horses? My Kingdom is invaded. These creatures dare to attack my soldiers.’
Borric looked at the King. ‘What would Your Majesty have me do?’
The King’s voice rose. ‘Do? I was going to wait for my loyal Duke of Bas-Tyra to arrive before I made any decision. But now I must act.’
He paused, and his face took on a vulpine look, as his dark eyes gleamed in the lantern light. ‘I was considering giving the Armies of the West to Brucal, but the doddering old fool can’t even protect his own garrisons.’
Borric was about to protest on Brucal’s behalf, but Arutha, knowing his father, gripped his arm, and the Duke remained silent.
The King said, ‘Borric, you must leave Crydee to your son. He is capable enough, I should think. He’s given us our only victory so far.’ His eyes wandered and he giggled. He shook his head for a moment, and his voice lost its frantic edge. ‘Oh, gods, these pains. I think my head will burst.’ He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Borric, leave Crydee to Lyam and Arutha; I’m giving you the banner of the Armies of the West; go to Yabon. Brucal is sorely pressed, for most of the alien army strikes toward LaMut and Zun. When you are there, request what you need. These invaders must be driven from our lands.’
The King’s face was pale, and perspiration gleamed on his forehead. ‘This is a poor hour to start, but I have sent word to the harbor to ready a ship. You must leave at once. Go now.’
The Duke bowed and turned. Caldric said, ‘I will see His Majesty to his room. I will accompany you to the docks when you are ready.’
The old Chancellor helped the King from the throne, and the Duke’s party left the hall. They rushed back to their rooms to find stewards already packing their belongings. Pug stood around excitedly, for at last he was returning to his home.
They stood at dockside, bidding farewell to Caldric. Pug and Meecham waited, and the tall franklin said, ‘Well, lad. It will be some time before we see home again, now that war is joined.’
Pug looked up into the scarred face of the man who had found him in the storm, so long ago. ‘Why? Aren’t we going home?’
Meecham shook his head. ‘The Prince will ship from Krondor through the Straits of Darkness to join his brother, but the Duke will ship for Ylith, then to Brucal’s camp somewhere near LaMut. Where Lord Borric goes, Kulgan goes. And where my master goes, I go. And you?’
Pug felt a sinking in his stomach. What the franklin said was true. He belonged with Kulgan, not with the folk at Crydee, though he knew if he asked, he would be allowed to go home with the Prince. He resigned himself to another sign that his boyhood was ending. ‘Where Kulgan goes, I go.’
Meecham clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Well, at least I can teach you to use that bloody sword you swing like a fishwife’s broom.’
Feeling little cheer at the prospect, Pug smiled weakly. They soon boarded the ship and were under way toward Salador, and the first leg of the long journey west.
• CHAPTER FOURTEEN •
Invasion
THE SPRING RAINS WERE HEAVY THAT YEAR.
The business of war was hampered by the ever-present mud. It would stay wet and cold for nearly another month before the brief, hot summer came.
Duke Brucal of Yabon and Lord Borric stood looking over a table laden with maps. The rain hammered on the roof of the tent, the central part of the commander’s pavilion. On either side of the tent two others were attached, providing sleeping quarters for the two nobles. The tent was filled with smoke, from lanterns and from Kulgan’s pipe. The magician had proven an able adviser to the dukes, and his magical aid helpful. He could detect trends in the weather, and his wizard’s sight could detect some of the Tsurani’s troop movements, though not often. And over the years his reading of every book he encountered, including narratives of warfare, had made him a fair student of tactics and strategy.
Brucal pointed to the newest map on the table. ‘They have taken this point here, and another here. They hold this point’ – he indicated another spot on the map – ‘in spite of our every effort to dislodge them. They also seem to be moving along a line from here, to here.’ His finger swept down a line along the eastern face of the Grey Towers. ‘There is a coordinated pattern here, but I’m damned if I can anticipate where it’s going next.’ The old Duke looked weary. The fighting had been going on sporadically for over two months now, and no distinct advantage could be seen on either side.
Borric studied the map. Red spots marked known Tsurani strongholds: hand-dug, earthen breastworks, with a minimum of two hundred men defending. There were also suspected reinforcement companies, their approximate location indicated with yellow spots. It was known that any position attacked was quick to get reinforcements, sometimes in a matter of minutes. Blue spots indicated the location of Kingdom pickets, though most of Brucal’s forces were billeted around the hill upon which the commander’s tent sat.
Until the heavy foot soldiers and engineers from Ylith and Tyr-Sog arrived to man and create permanent fortifications, the Kingdom was fighting a principally mobile war, for most of the troops assembled were cavalry. The Duke of Crydee agreed with the other man’s assessment. ‘It seems their tactics remain the same: bring in a small force, dig in, and hold. They prevent our troops from entering, but refuse to follow when we withdraw. There is a pattern. But for the life of me, I can’t see it either.’
A guard entered. ‘My lords, an elf stands without, seeking entrance.’
Brucal said, ‘Show him in.’
The guard held aside the tent flap, and an elf entered. His red-brown hair was plastered to his head, and his cloak dripped water on the floor of the tent. He made a slight bow to the dukes.
‘What news from Elvandar?’ Borric asked.
‘My Queen sends you greetings.’ He quickly turned to the map. He pointed at the pass between the Grey Towers on the south and Stone Mountain on the north, the same pass Borric’s forces now bottled up at its east end. ‘The outworlders move many soldiers through this pass. They have advanced to the edge of the elven forests, but seek not to enter. They have made it difficult to get through.’ He grinned. ‘I led several a merry chase for half a day. They run nearly as well as the dwarves. But they could not keep up in the forest.’ He returned his attention to the map. ‘There is word from Crydee that skirmishes have been fought by outriding patrols, but nothing close to the castle itself. There is no word of activity from the Grey Towers, Carse, or Tulan. They seem content to dig in along this pass. Your forces to the west will not be able to join you, for they could not break through now.’
‘How strong do the aliens appear to be?’ asked Brucal.
‘It is not known, but I saw several thousand along this route.’ His finger indicated a route along the northern edge of the pass, from the elven forests to the Kingdom camp. ‘The dwarves of Stone Mountain are left alone, so long as they do not venture south. The outworlders deny them the pass also.’
Borric asked the elf, ‘Has there been any report of the Tsurani’s having cavalry?’
‘None. Every report refers only to infantry.’
Kulgan
