The Grand Crusade (47 page)

With his warmages set up to detect use ofarcanslata, he then put his next phase of the plan in place. A ragged band made up of six of Queen Winalia’s scouts rode toward the tower under a flag of truce. One of the large gibberers asked what they wanted. The scouts told them that an Alcidese general with a thousand horsemen was headed in their direction and that Queen Winalia wanted them warned.

Adrogans was willing to give them that much information, since he had to assume news of Caro’s advance had already filtered over the border. The scouts were dismissed, and they headed back west. Within an hour, two riders on frostclaws headed east at high speed. That told Adrogans that the Aurolani were not using magick to communicate and, further, that other towers or way stations along the road would provide fresh mounts for the couriers. He would have to watch out for them.

The warmages confirmed that no magick they could identify had been used to communicate with the east. So Adrogans let the two couriers move on without molestation. The gaps in the patrol schedule created when his ambushes killed the Aurolani scouts let him slip the bulk of his forces past. He then had Caro’s cavalry ride all over those tracks, obscuring them—which would let any subsequent scouting parties assume Caro’s people had killed the patrols.

A day after Winalia’s scouts had warned the Aurolani of Caro’s presence, his horde arrived at the fortress. Caro advanced under a white flag and informed the tower’s commander that Queen Winalia had been deposed. He said trade in wood and other goods would continue, but that any incursion into his kingdom would be swiftly repulsed. Caro and his people then rode west again.

Aurolani scouts trailed after them, but were swiftly murdered. Two more couriers headed east and were let pass with the confirmation of the earlier news about Caro. Adrogans fully expected the Aurolani commander—either asullan-ciriat the shipyard or a local commander—would react to the news swiftly. He felt quite certain of that, for reasons he could not pinpoint, and reacted accordingly.

The road to the west wove through some hills between the tower and the nearest town, which served as a way station for couriers. Adrogans had the luxury of two days in which to prepare for the arrival of Aurolani reinforcements for the tower. During that time Caro’s people regularly patrolled the frontier and skirmished with Aurolani scouts, drawing all attention to the west.

Adrogans only had twenty dragonels to use, so he set them up in four groups. He placed two batteries of two dragonels at one point along a long stretch of roadway. They pointed back along the road toward the east and had been filled with scatter-shot. Likewise another pair of batteries were set up seven hundred

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yards further west, though they pointed east. The east and west batteries could have hit each other at that range.

In the middle he arranged the remaining dozen dragonels along a hill on the south side of the road. There he placed the best of Agitare’s crews, since they would have to reorient their weapons depending on where their shots were needed. The east and west batteries could remain fixed for the most part, and just needed to be loaded quickly.

Infantry was deployed behind the hills, but in a position to support the dragonels. The enemy trying to get at them would have to charge up a hill, and infantry would deny them their goal. He placed the Gurol Stonehearts on the hill directly across from the central battery, hoping they would be brave when the dragonels were shooting in their general direction. A lot of Aurolani would attempt to escape up that hill, so they would have plenty to do to keep them bottled up.

The ambush went off almost too easily. The reinforcements consisted of a regiment of infantry. The gibberers were being driven hard bykryalniriand the large gibberers, which Adrogans took to calling gibberkings in his mind. While they did have a small squad out in front to act as scouts, clearly their commanders feared no trouble until they reached the frontier. The scouts passed the well-hidden western battery and the main body of troops moved into the kill zone.

Once the last of the Aurolani had moved past the easternmost battery, it fired. All four dragonels blasted canisters of plum-sized shot into the last legion of gibberers. White plumes of smoke gave away the batteries’ positions, but it mattered not at all as the closest enemy group evaporated. The iron shot came with sufficient force to blow through one gibberer and still manage to take an arm or leg off another. Bodies exploded, with blood, bone, and brains splashing far enough to paint the roadway. Horrid howls filled the hollow in the wake of the dragonel thunder.

As could be expected, half the troops in the middle turned to see what was happening behind them, while the other half began to run from the danger. The confusion and collisions further compacted the formation. Gibberkings andkryalnirishouted commands, but few of their troops complied. Given time, they might have been able to summon order from chaos, but that was not afforded them.

The southern battery vomited smoke and metal into the milling masses of gibberers. The shot vaporized the nearest ranks. Those behind fell as their legs were carried away, or their bellies were opened. Headless corpses tottered about for a heartbeat or two, blood geysering from ragged neck stumps, then pitched over. Those left miraculously untouched crawled from beneath their dying brethren, throwing off ropes of intestines or severed limbs, and moved away from the cloud of smoke slowly drifting down the hillside at them.

The west battery then spoke, ripping through the forward legion. Its standard wavered and fell. One gibberking scooped it up and raised it defiantly. He

shouted at his troops, but could not be heard above the cacophony of screams. Dying gibberers clutched at him, forcing him to use the butt of the standard to knock them away.

The east battery let loose with another volley, then a ripple of fire came from the south battery. More gibberers died as a metal storm ripped them to bits. Survivors clawed at the hillside and raced upward, both at the batteries and away from them. In their hasty flight they never saw the soldiers waiting for them. Those who escaped hot iron met cold steel and ended up just as dead.

A third volley from each dragonel finished the grisly work. The light southerly breeze slowly cleared the smoke. Adrogans and every other soldier stared down at the road now paved with torn fur, pulverized bone, and an occasional twitching of a limb. Adrogans saw a heart beating within the shattered rib cage of a gibberking, and the matching spurt of blood from where the creature’s left arm had once been. The spurt trailed into a drip and the heart’s sluggish rhythm ceased altogether.

It had been one thing for him to see the destruction done by the dragonels to a building, and yet another to view the aftermath of the boombags on troops. This, however, had been something Adrogans had no way of putting into perspective. Before that ambush, slaughter on this scale would have been something only the gods could have engineered.

Adrogans shook his head.And there are crowns who would not blanch from seeing men and women bobbing in such a death-soup. He shivered, then looked away from the road at Captain Agitare.

“Your people are to be commended, Captain.”

“Thank you, General.” The young man’s face had a bit of an ashen hue to it. “We’ll do even better next time.”

“I’m sure you will, Captain.” Adrogans ran his hand back over his skull. “And the prospect of that fills me with dread.”

Erlestoke groaned inwardly as he and his command company came around a hill and started down the road. He glanced right and saw Count Wightman taking in the sight below. The other man’s eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed in calculation.When next I have to deal with him, I will see this again.

The road descended to a narrow bridge over a small river that flowed slowly. It was not terribly deep, but did have steep sides and was too wide for a horse to leap. On it waited a group of mounted warriors beneath the banner of the Malviston family. Erlestoke looked for Baron Hallard Malviston, but saw no one with his long white mane or his thick beard in that group.

There was, however, a wagon behind them draped in black. A single horse drew it. The cargo in the back rested on a bier likewise covered in black. It contrasted with the white pine of the casket, and Erlestoke had no trouble imagining where the baron rested.

Beyond the bridge, on each side of the road, square breastworks had been raised. Spiked logs decorated the gradual slope leading to the small earthworks. The necessity of weaving in and out of the abatises meant any cavalry charge at the breastworks would fail—not that any horseman would take his mount at the earthworks, since they bristled with spears and were filled with men. Past that, at the top of the hill, more abatises blocked the road, and another line of earthworks crested the hill.

Dranae rode up between the prince and Count Wightman. “It would appear you’re not to pass. Would you like me to deal with this?”

“Your offer is tempting, my friend, but I think we try talk first. Do come with me, however.” The prince glanced at Borell. “Will you fix a flag of white to that lance you’re carrying?”

“Yes, Highness.”

The youth complied with the request, then rode out a few yards ahead of the command company. He raised the standard three times and got a white flag raised three times below. Borell looked back once, then led Erlestoke, Dranae, and Nay forward. Overhead, Preyknosery Ironwing drifted lazily, cradling Erlestoke’s quadnel in his arms. With a Gyrkyme and a dragon to act as bodyguards, Erlestoke knew he should fear nothing.

But only a fool fears nothing.

They approached the bridge at a walk, which gave Erlestoke enough time to recognize the tall man with long red hair flowing from beneath his helmet. The baron had one son who lived. Sambell Malviston was someone Erlestoke had met before but not particularly liked. Sambell had seemed to loathe Erlestoke, much as he loathed King Scrainwood, but the baron had been one of Scrainwood’s staunchest allies, so Sambell’s hatred for him had been left to simmer in silence.

The slender man’s head came up, and even at twenty yards distant the intensity of his blue stare chilled Erlestoke. At half that distance the prince saw the orphan notch cut in Sambell’s mask, confirming the old baron’s death. With hatred that bald and cold, and a corpse on a wagon, the death was recent. And clearly the new baron thought Erlestoke had something to do with it.

Erlestoke reined up and rested both hands on his saddle horn. “Greetings, cousin. I grieve for your loss.”

Malviston spat. “Call me not cousin, murderer. My father lies there in that box, cold and dead because of you. You’ll not enter our lands without paying a blood price—and a dear one.”

Erlestoke lifted his chin. “If there is a blood price to be paid, I shall pay it, dear or not. The fact is you have me at a disadvantage. How is it that the price of your father’s death is presented to me?”

Those in the baron’s company looked at each other, but the baron kept his eyes on Erlestoke. “Don’t even attempt to feign innocence, Erlestoke. You and your Bloodmasks have done much work here, much horrible work. The countryside is up in arms against you. It is not enough that you have rebelled against your father. You now lead invaders into a nation that does not want you, and you slay loyal sons of Oriosa because they will not support your usurpation of the throne.”

“I see.” Erlestoke crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t feign innocence, but I will plead ignorance. Tell me who the Bloodmasks are and inform me of the circumstances of your father’s death.”

The baron pointed back toward the command company. “There, one of the Bloodmasks rides openly with you.”

Erlestoke looked back, then frowned. “Rumbellow? He’s a Murosan, one of the Addermages.”

“A murderer by any other name is yet so foul. They have been slinking around here in the Midlands, making sheep miscarry, souring milk, raising root weevils in the fields, stealing children, and poisoning wells. You boldly admit

they are mages, but this we knew, and adder fits them well since they wait and strike from hiding, vicious and virulent.“

“And one of them slew your father?”

The baron hesitated for a moment, then nodded emphatically. “My father had heard of the Hawkriders and their treason. He exhorted his people to remain neutral and to see to themselves. He said he would not support you in the illegitimate usurpation of your father. For that, you had him slain. For that I will see that neither you nor your army takes another step into the Midlands.”

Behind him the lordlings he had chosen for his entourage nodded in agreement.

Erlestoke frowned mightily. “How did your father die?”

Another rider, an older man who, by the marks on his mask, had served the elder baron for many years, spoke. “My lord baron was found dead in his bed, alone and cold, with no sign of violence. He was slain with sorcery, of this there is no doubt at all. Had honorable assassins come upon him, they would have died with him, perhaps instead of him. Your Bloodmasks stole into his castle and murdered him at your command.”

The prince pressed a finger to his lips as he thought. He sorted fact from speculation in an attempt to understand fully the situation he faced. The baron had been an old man and, even if hale, dying suddenly in his sleep could not be discounted. Sambell supposed that because his father had counseled against joining Erlestoke, the prince had murdered his father. Because the baron had been advocating neutrality, killing him would have been a self-indulgent luxury on Erlestoke’s part—and a stupid one since it would certainly create exactly the sort of hostile response he now faced.

The existence of the Bloodmasks intrigued him, however. Having magicker agents causing trouble throughout the Midlands could be a strategy conceived by either the Aurolani or his father. Mayhem committed by the Bloodmasks might be enough to turn Hallard Malviston from neutral to actively hostile. If the man were reluctant to shift in that direction, killing him and pointing at Erlestoke as the instigator likewise benefited the enemy. King Scrainwood would have known enough of Sambell and his animosity to assume the new baron would jump to the conclusion that the prince had blood on his hands, and that would aid the enemy a great deal.