Devan Chronicles Series: Books 1-3 (173 page)

So, it was true. Curse them!

He needed a battle and a decisive victory to bring this campaign to a happy resolution. Without that, he would be chasing the clans all over the plain for years to come. Unfortunately, someone had taken steps to deny him the encounter he needed.

“Follow me to the maps gentleman,” he said and led the way.

The now common sight of an awning covered table was set not far from the ruined building. It was unfortunate the roof was no longer intact; it would have made a fine map room. By the time he reached the table, all of his captains and sorcerers were assembled. He was coming to think of these men as a command staff. With the good offices of the sorcerers here present, he could order any battalion to move and could therefore control the battlefield—in theory at least, and that was what he needed to discuss.

“I think we can all agree that the clans are not simply running,” he said. “That being the case, what are they doing?”

“Planning an ambush?” Corbin said.

Bannan shook his head. “It’s more likely they’re trying to manoeuvre and get behind us.”

Navarien listened to various schemes that the clans might be hatching, some had merit; others were outlandish. Tikva was the only one not taking part.

“What is your opinion, Captain?” Navarien said expecting he already knew.

Tikva looked at the map and began pointing out various features of the land. The plain was for the most part flat and well drained grassland. There were patches of trees too small to call forests dotted around, but by far and away flat grassland prevailed. Not so the lands along the Devan border.

“I believe they intend to use these hills, Sir,” Tikva said. “The clansmen are used to fighting in the open, but we all know the tales of warriors being able to hide behind a blade of grass.”

“Cursed little we’ve seen of it,” Nissus said.

“Not so,” Navarien interjected. “What of the march to Calvados? I doubt anyone here could forget that march so soon.”

The captains winced at the reminder of that time and nodded grimly. They remembered very well and were not eager for a repeat performance.

“As I was saying,” Tikva continued. “These hills represent the only decent terrain for leagues around. One could say they represent the
only
terrain. The plain does not lend itself to creative tactics.”

“I agree,” Navarien said. He was pleased that Tikva saw it as he did. “They will use the hills in an effort to split our formations—”

“And they will succeed,” Tikva said finishing the sentence.

“Precisely. They cannot help but succeed when I dare not allow them to get behind me. I need a battle gentleman. I cannot win without one. The clans however do not need to fight to beat us; all they need do is make us chase them. Lucky for us, they do not seem to know that. I have no doubt the clans will fight to the death rather than be pushed into Deva, which is fine by me.”

Everyone chuckled; even the sorcerers were amused. Wotan had forged his people into an integral part of the legion just as he had promised. The ease with which his men now mingled with them was a good indication of how successful he had been.

“Suggestions?” Navarien said.

Corbin was first. “Flush them out with cavalry.”

Tikva and the others disagreed and so did Navarien. The obvious reason was that eight thousand cavalry would find themselves overwhelmed in short order by the full weight of the clans.

“Magic,” Wotan said once the others ran out of ideas.

“Magic will play an important part,” Navarien agreed. “Warding the men and bombarding the enemy when the chance arises will be important in the hills. Just as the clans will try to break us up, we must do the same to them. This will primarily be an infantry battle gentleman. It has to be that way. The hills will tend to obscure the battlefield, and charging into the unknown is not my idea of fun.”

Corbin didn’t agree. “I like charging!”

Everyone laughed.

“So do I, but only when I know what I’m charging at, and that I will win.”

“Agreed,” Tikva said and the others nodded.

“If you will all turn your attention to the map?” Navarien said doing the same. “These hills, of which there are hundreds, vary in height widely. Some are little more than mounds; others are decent sized hills even by legion standards. There is no way to be certain short of the engagement just how the clans expect to stop us, but regardless of what they intend to do, I want these hills here,” Navarien circled an area with a finger near the centre of the hilly area. “And here,” another hill south of the first was circled, “Under our control.”

Tikva nodded. “These are the highest I assume,” he said and without waiting for confirmation, he went on. “They will control much of the surrounding terrain.”

“Not only that, they will give us advanced warning of clan movements. They do have effective wards, but assuming we successfully take and hold these hills, scrying will not be necessary to find them.”

There were appreciative murmurs, but Tikva had reservations. “Holding these areas will tie up men Sir. The clans still outnumber us and—”

Navarien broke in. “Not too many. Once taken, each outpost will be left with two maniples and a strong contingent of mages. At the first sign of attack they will call us so that we can hit the warriors even as they attack the outpost.”

“Hmmm. Bait as well as observation post? I like it!” Tikva said with enthusiasm.

Pointing to the map Navarien continued his planning. “The river here will bear watching. It’s the only convenient water supply for the clans, but it could also provide them with cover if they try to move between our observation points. I want some of your fastest scouts patrolling along its course with orders to run at the first sign of trouble. Reporting is more important than killing a few warriors.”

“I have some good men in mind Sir,” Corbin said.

“Fine. That just leaves the final disposition of the men to discuss. I won’t jog your elbows regarding your tactics in battle. You’ve all been with me long enough to know what I like and don’t like, but don’t forget we have Deva to deal with once this is done. Our men are precious. There certainly won’t be any more where they came from. Not for a long time to come.”

That was an understatement. Wotan had explained the reason for the greenness of the recruits at Calvados. The bulk of them had been recruited as Third Legion’s replacements. Every spare man had been assembled and shipped to Calvados including the sergeants tasked with training them. That meant back home there were no more recruits and no one to train them even if there had been! Mortain had made sure that this campaign did not fail as the Protectorate had failed last year. It was just one sign of how important he considered this war.

“I would like to add something to that if I may?”

“Of course Wotan, go right ahead.”

“I just wanted to say that I agree with your words and that my sorcerers will be on hand to help. They will ensure losses are light.”

“I thank you for that Wotan, but that may prove difficult. We of the legions know only too well how easily circumstances can change for the worse. Doing your best is all we expect, but knowing you as I do I’m sure it will be enough.”

A rumble of agreement swept around the table. Wotan nodded pleased with all the support.

“Now then,” Navarien began. “I want Captains Corbin, Bannan, and Duer to take and hold—”

As he gave his orders, his thoughts reached out to the battle to come. It was more likely to be battles than a single confrontation. In his mind’s eye, he saw clan warriors attempting to flank him, but being spotted by the observation posts atop the hills. Sorcerers spoke into mirrors, and a battalion split away to chase down the warriors and deal with them before casually rejoining the main body ready for the next fight.

Navarien smiled. Fifth Legion was about to march into history as the first Protectorate legion to enter Deva.

* * *

Interlude V

Talitha sat slumped in a chair staring at nothing. The parchment lay discarded on the floor and she was alone. The Matriarch was never alone, but she had screamed in rage and ordered Tymek and his men out of the room. They had obeyed in fear for their lives.

Ranen was dead.

They had been married less than a year and he was dead. She hated him! No she didn’t. She loved him and that was worse. It felt like she had died with him. When the letters arrived, she had sat here to read them full of a strange excitement. Ranen had been overwhelmed with her news. He loved her more than life—

Talitha closed her eyes as the tears welled up and spilled over again. He thought the name Armina was perfect for their daughter, a daughter without a father now! The letter was like him, full of excitement, but it had just stopped in mid-sentence. Then she had opened the second scroll from Prince Bevyn and her world ended. A cowardly assassin had killed her love, killed her heart, and taken away the most important thing in her life.

At the knock on the door, she looked up to see Nekane standing white faced in the doorway.

“Get out,” she snarled.

Nekane shook his head wordlessly.

If Tymek had been here, Nekane would have been thrown out by now but Talitha had sent everyone away yesterday. “Get out or I’ll—” she sighed and left it at that. She had no energy to reprimand him let alone order his execution.

“Matriarch, I’m so sorry but the army—”

“Which army?” she said with little interest. She stared at the letters lying at her feet.

“Bevyn’s army… it’s destroyed,” Nekane whispered.

“Oh,” she said. It was all she could say.

The door clicked shut leaving her alone in the dark. She had to be strong as never before. Her daughter would need her to be strong, so that is what she must be. Japura needed her to be strong; her people needed her. Nothing had changed about that, but it felt different. All their plans had meant nothing in the end. Wakiza defeated, Bevyn defeated, and now Ranen dead. Perhaps she was meant to be the last Matriarch. Nothing lasts forever. Perhaps it was just Japura’s time.

No! Her daughter must rule in her turn. That was the way it had been for thousands of years. That was how it was meant to be, and how it would be, but how? Yes, that is what she had to think about. How was Armina to rule a defeated Japura? Sue for peace and hope the evil Vexin accepted?

Never!

She would never make peace with the man who killed Ranen, but what else was there? There was not enough time to train another army. If she ordered every man to take up arms regardless of age and training she could field an army of stupendous proportions, but any army needed horses, and food, and swords, and armour. Where was she to get all that? It was said that Deva was building an army. Maybe Gylaren would come to her aid. No, he had the Hasians to worry about.

She needed allies. The Hasians were treacherous and the Devans could not help. That left only Tindebrai. Even after meeting with Verner a dozen times, she still knew so little about the Empire, but did that really matter now? She knew it was large. Waipara as a whole could fit within Marzina’s borders with ease. That meant the Empress needed a strong army to hold what she had.

She needed a go between, Talitha decided. She needed Verner.

* * *

26 ~ Illusion

“How did she know?” Mazel whispered.

Shelim kept utterly motionless as he watched the outclanners move warily by his hiding place. Behind them, they had left a warded camp on a hilltop to keep watch.

“You know how she is now,” Shelim said. “She does not explain. She doesn’t seem to care whether we do what she says or not.”

“Seem?”

“Ah well. Kerrion says she does care; cares very much. He says she is holding her feelings in, because if she let them out she would destroy us all. I don’t know about that, but if she could destroy these outclanners I wouldn’t complain.”

Mazel shook his head. “Outclanners are strange people…” he raised a hand to stop his protest. “I know of the farce you and Kerrion concocted and it doesn’t matter to me. If you wish to call her a Night Wind shaman that is your affair and Kadar’s, not mine.”

“It’s not a farce. She is Julia of the Night Wind now. Kadar thinks highly of her and so do you. Why else are we here?”

Mazel shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. He was chief of chiefs, but more often than not he did what Julia said. A few days ago, he had followed her advice to come here and fight in the hills, but now it felt as if he did nothing without first asking her advice. He did not like it, but the people were more important than his pride.

Shelim knew what Mazel was feeling; it impressed him that a warrior such as he could put aside both his pride and feelings for the good of all. Not many warriors would do the same. Certainly Tobiah had not.

“It doesn’t matter whether she guessed or knew in some other way,” Shelim went on. “All that matters is that she continues to be right.”

Mazel agreed with a nod. “Maybe she was a warrior in her previous life. The warrior within her told her these things.”

He stifled a laugh. “Perhaps she was a Horse Clan chief.”

Mazel’s humour faded as he watched the arrogant outclanners file by without realising how close to death they had come. “Perhaps she was,” he said seriously.

Shelim eyed him suspiciously, but Mazel was intent upon watching the enemy. He shielded his mirror from the meagre light of the dawning sky and called the image to the glass. Mazel moved in closer and together they watched the sorcerers atop the hill.

“I make it two hundred warriors,” Mazel said.

Shelim nodded. “And ten sorcerers.”

“We could kill them all easily,” Mazel said hungrily.

“Not easily, but we could do it.”

“I know, I know. We must follow the plan—Julia’s plan.”

“I know it’s hard, but she does know what she’s doing.”

“So far,” Mazel agreed.

Shelim changed the image and found the second Hasian camp. Again it was atop a hill giving them a good all round view of the land.