"Messengers, Valther," he gasped. "You were right. It's time to cut our losses."
Ragnarson's army, covered by the witch-war, withdrew in good order. By dawn its entirety had evacuated Baxendala. Shinsan had redeemed its earlier defeat.
The wizard's war ended at sunrise, in a draw. Kierle the Ancient, Stojan Dusan, and the Egg had perished. The others scarcely retained the strength to drag themselves away.
Radeachar had salvaged them by driving the dragons from the sky.
The Tervola were hurt too. Though they tried, they hadn't the strength or will to follow up.
The bent old man ordered Badalamen to catch Ragnarson, but Badalamen couldn't break Bragi's rear guard.
Ragnarson had bought time. Yet he had erred in not trying to hold.
As he debouched from the Gap he encountered eastbound allies from Hellin Daimiel, Libiannin, Dunno Scuttari, the Guild, and several of the Lesser Kingdoms. Auric Lauder commanded about thirty thousand men. Ragnarson borrowed Lauder's knights to screen his retreat.
He didn't try correcting himself. Baxendala was irrevocably lost. Shinsan still outnumbered him three to one, with better troops.
Lauder followed the example of previous allies and accepted Bragi as commander.
In thought, Ragnarson began laying the groundwork for the next phase, Fabian, accepting battle only in favorable circumstances, playing for time, trying to wear the enemy down.
THIRTY-TWO: Defeat. Defeat. Defeat.
Fahrig. Vorgreberg. Lake Turntine. Staake-Armstead, also called the Battles of the Fords. Trinity Hills, in Altea. The list of battles lost lengthened. Detached legions, supported by Magden Norath's night things, conquered Volstokin and Anstokin. Badalamen, by slim margins, kept overcoming the stubborn resistance of Ragnarson's growing army.
He reinforced his northern spearhead. It drove through Ruderin and curved southward into Korhana and Vorhangs. Haaken Blackfang, with a hasty melange of knights, mercenar-ies, and armed peasants, stopped the drive at Aucone. Ragnerson extricated himself from envelopment in Altea. Badalamen ran a spearhead south, through Tamerice, hoping eventually to meet the northern thrust at the River Scarlotti, behind Bragi.
Reskird Kildragon harried the Tamerice thrust but refused battle. Tamerice's army had been decimated in Ravelin.
Then Badalamen paused to reorganize and refit. He faced Ragnarson across a plain in Cardine just forty miles short of the sea and cutting the west in two.
In the Kapenrungs, Megelin bin Haroun chose to ignore the threat behind him. He launched another campaign against Al Rhemish and El Murid.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!" Ragnarson swore when the news arrived. "Don't he have a lick of sense?" He had counted on Megelin thinking like his father, had anticipated that the Royalists would conduct guerrilla war behind Badalamen's main force.
He sat before his tent with Liakopulos, Visigodred, his son, and officers from most of the nations which had sent troops.
This ragtag army was the biggest gathered since the El Murid Wars.
"I think we've done well," said Liakopulos. Hawkwind and Lauder nodded. "We've managed to keep from being destroyed by the best army in the world."
Lord Hartteoben, an Itaskian observer, agreed. "The persistence of your survival continues to amaze everyone."
"Uhm." Bragi surveyed his army.
It wasn't especially dangerous, despite its size. The demands of constant retreat hadn't given him time to organize and integrate. New contingents had to be thrown in immediately. Often his captains didn't speak the language of their neighbors in the line.
"Why shouldn't he?" Ragnar asked. "El Murid is Shinsan's client now." He stirred the fire with the tip of a crutch. He had been injured at Aucone. Haaken had sent him south to keep him from getting himself killed. He was too impetuous.
"Maybe. But I wish he'd helped us instead. Haroun would've seen that getting El Murid ain't worth a damn if the rest of the west goes."
At least the west now believed an eastern threat existed. But mobilizations hadn't helped yet. A battalion arrived now, a regiment then. Too little relative to the task.
The political question of who should be the supreme commander hadn't yet been posed. That the generals of major nations should be commanded by the Marshall of a country village-state like Ravelin seemed implausible to Ragnarson. He considered Hawkwind the best man. But his allies remained impressed with his ability to evade disaster.
Hawkwind didn't want the job anyway. He had had enough of command politics during the El Murid Wars.
"When'll we see help from Itaskia?" Bragi asked Visigodred. The wizard had been home several times and been able to produce just Lord Hartteoben and another thousand bowmen. Itaskia was husbanding her resources to fight on home ground.
Ragnarson had rebuilt his cavalry advantage. He pressed it mercilessly, compelling the legions to remain close and their allies to stay within the protective umbrella of Badalamen's genius.
Marco and Radeachar hunted and exterminated the creatures of Magden Norath-excepting the savan dalage, the disease without a cure. The Tervola transported them backalmost as fast as Radeachar hauled them away. Varthlokkur and the Unborn tried burying them in caverns on islands in the ocean, but even there the Tervola found them.
Shinsan's sorcerers had to be exterminated before the savan dalage could be solved permanently.
The Tervola wouldn't permit that.
For the time being, then, there was a thaumaturgic impasse.
At least, Bragi thought, if defeated, he would fall to force of arms.
The nearest town was Dichiara. The battle took its name.
It was the nadir of Ragnarson's career.
Badalamen announced himself with drums. Always Shinsan marched to the voice of drums, grumbling directions to legion commanders.
Bragi had had two weeks to prepare, to plan. He was as ready as time permitted.
Varthlokkur, privately, told him, "Back off. The omens aren't right."
Ragnarson remained adamant. "This far and no farther. This's the best position for leagues around. We'll hurt him here."
His army held a rough hill facing a plain on which cavalry could maneuver easily. His bowmen could saturate climbing attackers who survived the horsemen. Once Badalamen came to grips and drove him back, as was inevitable, he would withdraw into woods on the west slope, where Shinsan's tight formations would become less effective. He would re-form beyond the trees.
Attrition. That remained the game. Quick victory was out of the question. He worked against the day the power of the north took arms. Till then he had to stay alive.
His espionage was poorer than he thought.
Badalamen started his first wave.
Bragi, as always, responded with knights. That had worked well in every confrontation. He saw no reason to change.
Badalamen counted on that.
The knights swept over the plain-and into destruction ere striking a blow. Badalamen had cut a trench across his front, by night, and had camouflaged it.
The legions hit the tangle before the riders could extricate themselves. Half the knighthood of the coastal states and the Lesser Kingdoms perished.
Badalamen circled the debacle, rolled toward the hills. Ragnarson began falling back.
"I warned you," Varthlokkur said.
"Warned me, my ass! You could've been specific. Damned wizard never says anything straight out. Come on, Klaust. Get those men moving." He studied a map. "Hope we can ferry the Scarlotti. Else we're trapped at Dunno Scuttari."
The sun hadn't been up an hour. Radeachar, till now occupied deporting savan dalage, brought his first scouting report.
The legions in Tamerice weren't. They were racing north, having begun at sunset, and now were just ten miles away. They might beat him to the far side of the woods.
The withdrawal became a rout. Bragi desperately tried to keep control, to blunt the legions from Tamerice. The Guildsmen and his Kaveliners responded, but hadn't enough strength.