Warlords Rising (34 page)

Two days might not have been enough time. Trev’nor realized
this as he rushed about at an ungodly hour of the morning, taking care of last
minute details that shouldn’t have been pushed off to the last minute. But it
was too late now, the main preparations were done, and the army formed up and
ready to leave.

Half of the holdup was figuring out how to transport the
army itself. On the way to Trexler, they had flown the men via dragons, but
they now had too many people to make that feasible. On the other hand, Trev’nor
could always take them by Earth Path, but that suggestion had gone over like
rotten cheese with the dragons. Garth had been fine with him taking the
magicians to Q’atal by Earth Path because that had been the best solution. Also
the safest as he was going into very peaceful territory. But going north was a
different story. When Trev’nor popped up above ground, Garth wanted to be there
to make sure that there was no danger there for him to confront.

Krys was right. Having a dragon was pure trouble sometimes.

To answer the demands of the situations and keep the dragons
appeased, Trev’nor came up with a middle ground that made everyone but him
happy. Instead of going into the earth, he created a large slab for people to
sit on. Because it was earth, he could move it above the ground as he wished,
transporting as many people as he wanted to. It was more cumbersome than the
Earth Path method (although it worked rather the same in principal) and it did
nothing to shield people from the suns, but it kept the dragons happy. It made
the men happy too as they weren’t really comfortable with magic outside of
offensive or defensive spells, and spending hours in the ground had not
appealed to them.

“Are we ready?”

Trev’nor started, as he hadn’t realized Nolan was behind
him. Turning, he found the other mage hiding a yawn behind his hand. “Mostly,
yes. If we can get everyone on my slab, then we’re ready. What’s the holdup,
anyway?”

“Commander Danyal.”

There were so many possibilities that Trev’nor had to ask,
“What now?”

“He can’t decide if it’s better for him to ride with Becca
or to ride on the slab with the men.”

“Someone explain to me why the military, Danyal in
particular, is so enamored with Becca?”

“She’s the first military commander they’ve had that shows
consistent worry for their wellbeing?”

“And she’s cute.”

“And she’s cute,” Nolan agreed, chuckling. “Men of all ages
are weak to cuteness.”

“I think she banks on her cuteness.”

“I’m positive she does. As long as she uses her powers for
good and not evil, we’re fine.”

Trev’nor was not as sure about that. “Get the man to make a
decision and let’s go.”

“How about I get Becca to make the decision for him? I think
that’ll be faster.”

“Whatever works.” Trev’nor shifted from one foot to another
impatiently, waiting for Becca to kick the commander his direction. Danyal did
so with much muttering under his breath, none of which Trev’nor could
understand, nor want to.

Finally, they were able to leave. Trev’nor sat comfortably
at the front of his slab, legs crossed, a wide brimmed hat on his head to
shield his eyes from the suns. They were well outside of the city—there was of
course no room inside the streets for a slab of this size—so it was a simple
matter of moving forward.

Garth had scouted out the tower two days before, giving them
a bit better of an idea of the terrain, and he acted as the lead now. All of
the dragons and people still traveling on the ground followed his lead. In
deference to Trev’nor, he flew slower than usual, which the Earth Mage appreciated.
Not that he couldn’t go faster, but the men sitting behind him were nervous
enough even at this speed. They were going as fast as a trotting horse.
Trev’nor didn’t think that particularly fast but apparently it was.

Even at this relatively slow speed of travel, it didn’t take
long to reach Alred Watchtower. Trev’nor had passed this way twice before—the
Ruins of Rheben sat just north of the place—but they had been underground at
the time so he hadn’t seen anything. The watchtower loomed in the distance,
like a lighthouse on a desert sea, standing tall against the blue sky. Trev’nor
saw it from miles away and he kept his eyes peeled on it, alert for any details
as they came in closer.

The watchtower didn’t seem to have much around it. Judging
from the size, its population was likely half of Rurick’s. Trev’nor estimated
somewhere around twenty-five hundred people lived there. There was a large base
wall, and the watchtower stood in the center of it, going up several stories.
Trev’nor counted seven, which was an architectural feat considering they were
building out of just stone and the adobe mud that was popular here. There was a
flat roof on top, a large balcony that wrapped around near the top of it, and
hints of several round mirrors that had to be as tall as a man standing. What
were those mirrors for?

Almost as if to answer the question, the mirrors were turned
and caught the suns, flashing blinding light out in a system of short bursts.

Danyal, sitting directly behind him, swore. “They’ve seen
us.”

“Is that what the mirrors are signaling?”

“Yes. This is the reason why it’s so hard to fight the
watchtower. They can see our approach from miles away.”

Impossible to sneak up or catch them off-guard, eh? Well, it
wasn’t like they had been really counting on that.

Storm clouds rolled in from the west, becoming darker as
they came, and the wind picked up. Trev’nor resigned himself to the fact that
he was going to get soaking wet soon. Becca’s rainstorms didn’t differentiate
between friend and foe. Ah well, it would actually feel like a relief after
sitting under the suns all morning.

Several dragons dove for the watchtower, starting the
attack. Trev’nor couldn’t join just yet, he had to get the men closer so that
he could break the main gates and get the troops inside. Let’s see, the main
gate was—

Danyal abruptly stood, almost jarring Trev’nor. “They’re
veering off.”

What? Trev’nor’s head snapped up so that he could see for
himself what was going on. Every dragon had veered sharply to the right, flying
immediately away from the city. What were they doing?

“
ABORT, ABORT, ABORT!” 
Becca’s voice frantically
commanded.

Trev’nor stopped the slab immediately, making people jerk
forward and grumble. He paid them no heed, but snatched the mirror broach from
his pocket up to his mouth. “Becca, what is going on?”

“
I’ll explain—ground,”
she said, the wind snatching
away some of her words. “
—NOT engage, I—do NOT—”

“We are on standby,” Commander Danyal assured her over
Trev’nor’s shoulder.

Trev’nor had a sinking feeling that something had gone very,
very wrong. Stomach churning, he stayed standing and waited as everyone landed
around the slab. Nolan and Becca both threw themselves out of the saddles,
dropping to the ground with less finesse than usual.

“What happened?” he demanded of them both.

“That whoreson has taken the magicians and are using them
like a living shield around the watchtower!”

Trev’nor’s eyes fell closed. “Please, please tell me you’re
joking.”

“I really wish I was. He has them in cages, and they’re
spaced around the top. I think he has archers lined up to shoot them if we go
anywhere close.”

“He does,” Nolan confirmed in a snarl. “It’s not just the
watchtower, either, I saw similar cages on the far side of the wall. He’s got
them set up in two locations.”

Trev’nor flopped down onto the ground, frustrated and
disgusted all at once. “Well, we have our answer. The reason why Trexler was
always war-ready was because his neighbor is a conniving, base-court, ratsbane.
I’ve seen snakes with better morals than him.”

Becca stared back at him with hollow eyes. “The cost is too
high to just charge in.”

“He’s far too callous with human life,” Nolan agreed. He was
just as angry, but his anger simmered instead of burned, and cold calculation
creased his face. That expression scared Trev’nor a little. He had seen it
before. What followed hadn’t been good. “Who knows what he’s going to do next?
We can’t just sit here, though.”

“No,” Becca growled, “I agree we need to move, and soon, but
a frontal assault is clearly out of the question.”

“He’ll just repeat the same tactic,” Trev’nor agreed
bitterly, mouth curling up as the words tasted foul. “It’s very effective and
we have no way around it, so of course he’ll use it again. He might even kill a
few people to make his point and ensure that we don’t try again a third time.”
How had he figured out so quickly that people were their weak point? Had
stories of them freeing the slaves spread that quickly, that he could guess
what would slow them down?

“We need to think like Shad or Aletha,” Becca stated firmly.
“We need to be sneaky.”

“One problem with that,” Nolan started, only to frown and
correct himself, “Actually, two problems with that. One, none of us are very
talented at sneaky.”

Trev’nor grumbled about that one. True, they weren’t good at
it. Despite all Shad had done to try and teach them.

“Two, we don’t have enough information. We can’t make any
kind of plan as we have a very limited grasp on the land. Trev’nor, how much
can you sense from here?”

“From here? Not a lot. I’d have to get closer. I should be
able to come up with a rough outline of the city’s layout.”

“What about the building itself? The soldiers?”

“The building…will take more time. That place is pretty
densely packed. I mean, if I had a week to draw it all out for you—”

“A week of sitting here?” Becca objected.

Trev’nor grimaced agreement and forged on “—then I could do
it, sure. But who knows what he’d do in that week’s time? And you’re the Life
Mage, you can sense people a lot better than I can.”

Nolan gripped his hair with both hands, head bowing under
the stress of the situation. “I don’t see any good way around this. We can’t
just forge ahead again.”

“No, that will result in a disaster.” Becca put both hands
on her knees and pushed herself up. “I’m going to talk to the men, see if they
can help us. Surely someone here is familiar with Alred.”

Trev’nor felt like she wouldn’t learn much, they’d asked for
information before leaving and hadn’t gotten anything, but let her go without a
word. Maybe someone had been shy about coming up and speaking with them. Who
knew? Even though this militia of theirs was voluntary, it didn’t mean that the
men were really comfortable with them. Not yet. They still had some bone-deep
prejudices they were wrestling with.

For now, it was getting late, and they needed to feed
people. Trev’nor knew the ins and outs of traveling better than anyone here,
having lived with a nomadic tribe. He rolled back up to his feet and started
prodding people into motion, not so much ordering as reminding them of things
that should be done before they lost all sunlight. Most of the men seemed
grateful for something to do that didn’t let their minds dwell on what happened
at Alred. Trev’nor was certainly glad for a diversion.

Tents popped up, cookfires were started, but the tension
didn’t really go away. Trev’nor went around helping as necessary, creating
walled latrines and temporary corrals for the dragoos, but there wasn’t much he
could do about the tension. That seemed to fall more under Nolan’s department.
He saw his friend go about and speak to people. A few times, there was muted
laughter from that direction. Nolan had always been good at charming people.

Ehsan waved him over and pointed toward the ground. “There’s
a steady underground river here. Help me create a well.”

That was a good thought. Trev’nor readily went to his side.
“Where exactly? Here?”

“There’s perfect.”

Trev’nor had no sense of water whatsoever, so even as he
moved the earth to either side in a circular fashion, he asked, “How deep?”

“Two men standing.”

The Khobuntian measurement system was very, very odd to
Trev’nor. And inaccurate. It was always ‘a man’s arm length’ or ‘two heads
worth’ or something along those lines. He usually took his best guess and went
with the flow, which seemed to be what the locals did, so it worked most of the
time.

Ehsan didn’t ask him what they were going to do, or speak of
that day’s events at all. He just worked companionably to create three
different wells, then went to spread the word to the rest of the camp that they
had water. Trev’nor appreciated that silence. He had no answers to offer, so
questions of any sort would have been very difficult to deal with.

With all of the work done, he gravitated back toward the
commander’s tent. Danyal had been insistent on this point—the commander always
slept in a bright red tent. That way there was no confusion for the men on
where to report. Trev’nor felt like it was sleeping inside a very large target,
but at this distance, it wasn’t like any arrow or javelin could reach them. At
least, that was the argument he used to console himself.