There is no sense in saddling a fluttrell before you catch him, so I set at once about organizing the order of march.
I shouted so that as many men as possible might hear.
“We need a guide. The Kov Lart of Memberensis knows the country and the whereabouts of the enemy! He volunteers to be our guide!”
Kov Lart sputtered. “But, Majister, I must return to the King and report!”
“Oh,” I said. “He’ll find out in due course, I have no doubt.”
So we ended on a jest and could ready for the march in good spirits. Belying the jest, however, I told one of Kov Lart’s retinue to take a message to King Nemo. He was to come with forces to the woods south of Tomor Peak and be ready to fight Hamalese troops. I had little faith he would turn up; and if he did he might very well fight us over the question of Pando. The main army of Hamal, meanwhile, still lay to the west, being held in play by an army consisting of the remnants escaped from those Pandahem countries already overrun, together with the main forces of King Nemo. If we were off on a sideshow it was a sideshow commensurate with our strength, and the taking out of twenty thousand men would surely embarrass the generals of Hamal. I thought of the Hamalian Kov Pereth, the Pallan of the Northern Front. He had been appointed during the time of my spying mission in Hamal; perhaps by now the intrigues within Queen Thyllis’ court had deposed him and set up a fresh commander.
So we set off. We had a considerable quantity of baggage, mostly warlike stores. Of provisions we had only iron rations, for I fully intended my men to live off the country. They would do this anyway, even if the commissariat could give them roast vosk, taylynes, momolams and looshas pudding every day, followed by miscils and palines. All the infantry we could we crammed onto the baggage carts. The patient quoffas with their long faces and their hearth-rug appearance did not complain but sturdily hauled the creaking carts. The transports of Vallia had been designed well, massive craft nearer superior argenters than galleons. We did not lack for cavalry, and our aerial cavalry was the best, I had now persuaded myself, in all Havilfar.
The new regimental system of organization appeared to be working well, and the Jiktars knew they would have to face me if they fouled up. So we plodded along the country roads of Tomboram, heading south, and on the third day the country grew wilder of aspect, with mountains rising in the distance. On the fourth day we passed the site of a battle, most distressing, with corpses in grotesque attitudes, broken weapons and drums, tattered banners. I saw the blue flag and the golden zhantil there, as well as the purple and gold of Hamal, and I pondered. Whoever had fought here had retired swiftly after the defeat, and the victors had followed up with equal rapidity.
Flutduin patrols had not yet reported the presence of any enemy. I kept the voller force close. We marched on.
The mountains proved troublesome, but we found local guides only too pleased to show us the easiest ways through the passes, the hatred of Hamal evident in their vigor when they saw our banners and realized we fought for Tomboram. Down on the southern side we debouched from the last pass below Tomor Peak. Stones rattled under the hooves of the nikvoves, zorcas, and totrixes, and under the stout marching boots of the men. The quoffas trundled along and the carts creaked and protested. The men sang.
Before us stretched a wide plain, much forested, with the wink and glitter of watercourses. Interesting country to plan a battle. We marched on and the flutduin patrols came in with negative reports until, at last, one returned with news that he had spied a military encampment far off. Obeying my instructions, he had returned immediately.
So I took flight astride a flutduin, with Kytun and an escort, and we flew into the eyes of the suns, turned and came down to survey the camp.
Laid out neatly, as was to be expected of the Hamalians, the camp could contain the twenty thousand men reputed to be in the force facing us. I studied and made notes against the wind rush, then we turned and, undetected, returned to our own camp. I felt some pleasure as we touched down in a flurry of wings.
“We can take them, Dray,” said Kytun. He removed his flying helmet with one hand, unlaced his leathers with another, took up a goblet of wine with the third, and reached for a camp chair with the fourth. That kind of behavior always made me blink.
“Yes, Kytun. But no mad chunkrah rush for us!”
“They have vollers.”
“But not as many as I had expected. There must be scouts out, so we must have a patrol aloft at all times. But, still, remember this is a flank-force of the main army only, finishing up its business with Pando’s army.” I sighed. “Poor Pando! He needed a touch of a father’s hand — a not so gentle hand -
when he was young.”
Pando, that young imp of Sicce, would be almost full grown now. I wondered if he would remember me. I thought he would, but you could never tell. As for Tilda the Beautiful, his mother, she’d remember. . if she was sober. That, in absolute truth, was a tragedy.
We ate scanty rations that night, for the country had been poor, inevitably, through the mountains. Out on the plains we could find deer and fruits, and life would perk up. We marched at night, too, at a steady pace I had instituted as a regulation pace, not to be deviated from unless ordered, and we covered the ground steadily if not rapidly.
We were not observed, I felt reasonably sure, in the light of She of the Veils. The Twins came up after midnight and the Maiden with the Many Smiles only just before dawn. The three lesser moons of Kregen hurtled frantically across the sky, close to the ground, but the totality of light gave our wide-ranging patrols opportunity enough of counter-observing any Hamalese scouts. Just before the Suns of Scorpio were due to rise we marched up to an extensive forest area, scouted and clear, so we could enter in among the trees to bivouac. Fires were lit under the strictest control, Hikdars being appointed to the task to ensure that no betraying smoke wafted away. I rested for a while and then rode Snowy through the lanes between the trees to the forest’s southern edge. For a long time I sat there looking out. One more night’s march, I thought, and we would be in position to spring. The day passed peacefully. The men saw to their weapons, animals, and vollers. This very quietness seduced a man. Tomorrow, with the dawn, we would turn into a pack of ravening beasts, seeking to slay and go on slaying before we were slain in our turn. Many thoughts thronged my brain, but of them all only the image of Delia rode with me, constantly. Only after her could I think of the strangeness of my life, of how I had been caught up out of humdrum nothingness on Earth to be transported four hundred light-years through space, to joy in the exhilaration of Kregen, to love and to battle — aye! and to hate!
— on the surface of this wild and beautiful, lovely and horrible world of Kregen under Antares. That night we left all unnecessary impedimenta in the camp among the trees. Stripped for action, with carts loaded with shafts to follow, we marched out under the moons of Kregen. Pinkish moonlight showed us the way. We marched silently. Not a weapon chingled, not a man spoke. Direction was maintained by stellar navigation, and Jiktars marked the ends of our lines. A great ghostly array of men, marching on, timed to strike just as dawn broke in a blaze of emerald and crimson, we marched across the face of Kregen. . and who of all those thousands could guess the man who led them had been born under the light of another sun — a single sun!
Kytun rode his zorca next to mine. He leaned over and his whisper reached me, harsh in the night:
“We are late, Dray! The Twins are already up!”
“The ground is softer here. It makes for heavier going for the infantry.”