Dragonwall (38 page)

“I will be Batu’s quiverbearer,” Chanar said, grinning confidently, “honor-bound to serve him even though it means death.”

“Good,” the khahan said. “I bear witness to your challenge and the wagers placed on it. Let all who question you know that this is done by the word of the khahan.”

A tremendous crack sounded from the mountainside, and a bright light flared to Batu’s right. Kicking free of his stirrups, he leaped out of the saddle just as a blinding flash struck the horse. A shock-wave jolted the renegade so hard that his teeth snapped together. As he slammed to the ground, the breath fled his lungs and a deafening boom set the earth itself to trembling. The discordant smells of ozone and scorched horse-hide filled the air, then his mount’s carcass collapsed across his lower body.

At first Batu thought that his legs had been crushed, then that he was blind, and finally that he was deaf. For several moments, he lay motionless and isolated, his only connection to the world the cold mud beneath his face and the dead weight of his horse across his thighs. Finally, the pressure on his legs eased, his ears started to ring, and the white before his eyes faded to shades of gray. A pair of hands grasped his shoulders and dragged him to his feet.

“Commander! Are you hurt?”

Though it seemed muffled and distant, Batu recognized the voice. It belonged to Jochibi, the grisled veteran whom Yamun had assigned to him as second-in-command. Jochibi’s true task, the renegade knew, was to act as the khahan’s spy and insure that Batu did not betray his Tuigan master. Fortunately, the task did not conflict with serving as an advisor and adjutant, and the two men had developed a respect for each other.

As Batu regained his feet, he said, “Nothing feels broken.” His vision had returned to normal, and he could see his subordinate’s face. Jochibi’s braids were streaked with gray. On the Tuigan’s cheeks were parallel, self-inflicted scars that prevented his beard from growing.

“Another near miss,” Jochibi observed.

“Yes,” the Shou replied. A hundred yards away, fifty of his bodyguard had already reached the base of the mountain and dismounted. They were alternately firing arrows and clambering up the steep slope in pursuit of Batu’s attacker, one of the enemy’s red-robed wizards.

The wizard was supported by a dozen of the huge dog-men that the prisoners called gnolls. Easily eight feet tall, the furry brutes stood on their hind legs and used their hands as men did. However, they had the ferocious faces of huge, heavy-snouted dogs, complete with wet black noses, pointed ears, and long, vicious teeth.

As Batu watched, the red-clad wizard left his hiding place and fled along the mountainside, leaving the gnolls to cover his retreat.

“I wish I knew how they were picking me out,” Batu said. Though he was dressed exactly the same as his subordinates, it was the fifth time an enemy wizard had appeared behind the lines and tried to assassinate him.

“Magic,” Jochibi responded. He grabbed a handful of earth, then kissed it in a superstitious attempt to neutralize the effects of the unnatural art. “The enemy has too much of it. It scares the men and makes them fight like women.”

“They may be afraid of magic, but they’re hardly fighting like women,” Batu replied, pointing at the guards charging up the mountainside. The gnolls were raining arrows down on them, using bows so long and powerful that a normal man could not draw one. The deadly shower did not slow the Tuigan at all.

Jochibi observed the charge for a moment, then spat on the ground. “Tuigan can run faster.”

“Perhaps,” Batu responded, admiring his subordinate’s spirit. “Get me another horse. I want to be at the front of the column when we break out of this deathtrap.”

Jochibi bit his lip. “The khahan’s orders were to bring you back alive.”

“My orders are to get a horse!” Batu snapped.

Jochibi looked away.

“I don’t want to miss the real fighting. Do it!”

The Tuigan officer flinched under the sharpness of Batu’s command, then said, “By Teylas’s breath, you don’t have to get so angry. I don’t want to miss the fun any more than you.” He turned to obey.

While Batu waited for his officer to return, he studied the battlefield. He was in the same pass that Chanar had explored. The gap was sixty miles long and between five and fifteen miles wide. It had taken less than a day to ride through the first half of the canyon, but enemy ambushes had slowed their progress through the second half. It had taken more than two days to cover the last thirty miles.

The army was now within a half-mile of the gap’s end. The scouts had reported that an enemy force twice as large as Batu’s blocked the exit. As it was still early afternoon, the renegade intended to destroy the defending army before evening. By nightfall, he would be riding into the plains beyond.

Batu smiled at the audacity of his plan. If he had been commanding a Shou army, he would never have tried to do so much. When he had suggested his bold tactics to Jochibi, however, the horsewarrior had simply shrugged and asked why his commander thought there might be a problem.

Even allowing for their horses, the nomads were different from any pengs Batu had ever commanded. What other men considered impossible, the nomads took for granted, and what the Tuigan considered impossible did not exist. Batu was thrilled to command even a small force of such troops. He could hardly wait until he led them into the main battle.

Jochibi returned with an extra mount. It was a black stallion with fiery eyes and barding covering its shoulders and flanks. Patting the horse’s armor, the scar-cheeked warrior said, “Judging from the attacks on you so far, your horse is going to need all the protection it can get when we reach the front lines.”

“No doubt,” Batu said, climbing into the beast’s gilded saddle. “Where did you get this?”

“It belonged to one of the khahan’s sons,” Jochibi replied. “He won’t be needing it.”

“Dead?”

Jochibi nodded. “He was in the point jagun.”

Batu grimaced. That entire patrol had been wiped out by an enemy ambush. “You should of told me!” he snapped, anticipating the khahan’s wrath.

Sensing Batu’s thoughts, Jochibi shrugged. “There’s no need for worry. Odelu died in battle,” he said. “Besides, the khahan has many sons. If he blamed a general every time one fell in battle, there would be nobody left to command his armies.”

Shaking his head, Batu said, “Let’s see what’s happening up front.” He spurred Odelu’s horse forward.

A few minutes later, Batu and his escorts reached the front line. There, the snow-covered valley floor was about ten miles wide. Four thousand Tuigan were stretched out across the entire distance, their line marked by a band of mud churned up by the horses’ hooves. The riders were spaced fifteen to twenty feet apart, so the enemy’s magical spells would not affect too many men at once. The horsewarriors rode back and forth in small circles, firing at the enemy from their saddles. The remainder of Batu’s men, consisting of five fresh jaguns and five that he had used to flush out the ambushers, sat behind the lines as a ready reserve.

The enemy formation was much different. Though he could not see their entire line, Batu knew from scouting reports that there were at least ten thousand gnolls at the exit to the valley. Their line was roughly six hundred feet away, and they were gathered in tightly grouped companies of fifty. These companies were spaced every five hundred feet or so.

When the scouts had reported the enemy deployment, Batu had at first found it strange. After considering the long range of the gnoll archers, however, he had seen the wisdom of their plan. Each group was deployed within arrow range of the next one, so that they had interlocking fields of fire. When any one company was attacked, the two companies to either side could offer support. By clever positioning of his forces, the enemy had effectively tripled his firepower.

Batu considered concentrating his troops for a spearhead charge that would drive through the thin line, but quickly rejected the idea. By the time he gathered his forces, the enemy would see what was coming. They would allow him to charge, but the gnoll’s flanks would close in behind the column and engulf it.

As he studied the situation, Batu occasionally saw orange fireballs or white bolts of lightning leap from the center of a gnoll company.

“More magic,” Batu observed, pointing at one of the flashes.

Jochibi cringed. “It’s enough to frighten a man.”

“At least to test him,” Batu replied, grinning. He had never before faced an enemy with so much magic, and he was relishing the challenge of countering it.

Jochibi frowned. “Magic is nothing to take pleasure in.”

“Nor is it anything to fear,” Batu answered, scowling at his adjutant’s superstition. “Dead is dead. What difference does it make whether you’re hit by an arrow or a lightning bolt?”

Jochibi seemed to relax. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Batu returned his gaze to the battlefield. After a moment’s study, he noted, “Their bows have more range than ours, so fighting from a distance like this is useless. We’ll have to charge.”

“Agreed,” Jochibi responded. “What about their flying horses?”

“Flying horses?” Batu asked, astonished.

Jochibi pointed at the horizon, where a flock of specks was circling far behind enemy lines. “Perhaps they’re not horses, I can’t tell. They are definitely flying, though. I’d be concerned about them, if I were you.”

Batu squinted at the specks, but could hardly identify them as flying cavalry. “They’re just vultures waiting to pick the enemy’s bones.”

Jochibi frowned. “Since when do vultures fly in formation?” he asked. “Besides, they’re too big to be vultures.”

“You can see all that?” Batu asked.

Jochibi raised his brow. “Can’t you?”

The Shou shook his head in amazement. “You’re sure?”

“Of course,” Jochibi responded. “I’d say there are about three hundred of them.”

Several guards lent their support to Jochibi’s contention, getting into a heated debate about whether the number was closer to two hundred or five hundred. Although he had always considered his vision perfect, Batu knew better than to doubt Tuigan eyesight. Over the past two months, their scouts had pointed out many distant landmarks and ridden down hundreds of deer that Batu had not seen.

“They must be holding the fliers in reserve,” Batu said, a wave of excitement coursing through his body. The enemy commander, whoever he was, was good—perhaps even as good as himself. The coming battle promised to be one to remember.

“They’re trying to lay another trap for us,” Jochibi warned.

“A good plan,” Batu observed. “If not for your sharp eyes, it would have worked.”

The Shou returned his gaze to the battlefield, searching for a way to turn the enemy’s cleverness against him. For the first time in months, his mind was completely absorbed in something other than his own feelings.

Finally, Batu’s eyes lit on the steep walls of the valley. An idea occurred to him. “Send half the reserve to each side of the valley,” he said. “They are to climb as far up the mountainsides as they can, taking their bows and all their arrows.”

Jochibi raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve seen the khahan execute a false retreat,” the Shou answered. “I assume this is a standard tactic?”

“It is.”

“Good” Batu replied. He did a little quick math, then said, “We’ll attack each gnoll company with two arbans.”

Batu did not like the odds. An arban consisted of ten men, so that meant his troops would be outnumbered by a little more than two-to-one as they attacked. However, the khahan was fond of bragging that one of his warriors was a match for any four enemies. Now, the Tuigan would have a chance to prove it.

The renegade Shou continued explaining his plan. “After we’ve convinced the enemy of our sincerity, we’ll feign a rout and disengage. Our retreat path will be along the canyon walls.”

Jochibi smiled. “Beneath the arrow cover offered by our reserves.”

“If this plan is to work, timing is everything,” Batu continued. “We must begin the retreat at the center. You’ll ride toward the northern side of the canyon, and I’ll ride toward the southern. As we pass each group of soldiers, the drummers will signal for them to disengage. It will be important for us not to turn away from the gnoll line until we’ve collected the last of our troops from both flanks.”

Batu paused to allow Jochibi to ask questions. When the Tuigan remained silent, the Shou finished explaining his plan. “The flying cavalry will almost certainly pursue, and we’ll lead them beneath the arrows of our reserves, too.”

Jochibi frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. Finally he said, “I don’t like it. You’re splitting the army. It’s too risky.”

“It is an intricate maneuver,” Batu allowed, a note of eagerness creeping into his voice. “But the reward is worth it. As we ride in front of the enemy line, we’ll shower them with arrows. By the time we reach the end, we’ll have twenty archers for every target. Their flanks will be annihilated!”

“Only if every detail goes well,” Jochibi objected. He met his superior’s gaze with steady eyes. “I hesitate to send good men to their deaths on such a chancy plan.”

“These men are soldiers!” Batu snapped. “I would not think a Tuigan needed to be reminded of this.”

The adjutant scowled. “As you wish,” he replied.

Jochibi turned and passed Batu’s plan along to five messengers, being careful not to let his own doubts show. After the messengers rode off, Batu and the Tuigan officer waited in bitter silence. Finally, twenty minutes later, the messengers returned with confirmations from the commanders of the five minghans that made up the five-thousand-man army.

Batu drew his sword. Instead of the heavy tao he had taken from Kei Bot, he now carried the slightly curved saber of a Tuigan horseman. It felt warm and natural in his hand.

He turned to Jochibi, who was staring at the battle lines in stoic silence. “Can I rely on you?”

Jochibi drew his gleaming weapon, then kissed its golden quillon. “Your boldness frightens me, Shou. But the orders are issued. I’ll do what I must to win the battle.”