* * *
General Chen watched as Premer Shamal shouted angrily at the junior officer. The general knew that the premer rarely lost his temper. Carefully placing his feet to avoid stumbling while the ship rocked in the heavy swells, General Chen made his way to the rail alongside the premer.
“Still no word from Clarvoy?” asked the general.
“No,” scowled the premer, “and I am getting tired of waiting. Soldiers are not meant to sit on unmoving ships waiting for the war to begin. If he was not sure about the defenses of Khadora, he should have accepted our waiting in Sudamar instead of the middle of the ocean. Half of the men are seasick with the foul waves rocking these ships. I am quite tempted to attack without his information.”
“That could be costly,” warned the general. “Khadora is the best defended of our enemies. It is important to know what we are up against.”
“Khadora will be no easy task,” agreed Premer Shamal, “which is why I wanted it. I am the only premer qualified to handle it, as I have studied the Khadorans at length. Their armies are experienced fighters unlike the Omungans and Fakarans, but that is why we have a hundred thousand more men than the others. As much as the information about defenses would help us, getting my men off these ships will also help us. We are in greater danger out here than we will be in Raven’s Point.”
“Perhaps we will hear from Clarvoy today,” General Chen said hopefully.
“We had better,” scowled the premer. “If we do not hear from him today, I am giving the order to attack regardless. We can take Raven’s Point and hold there until Clarvoy gathers the information that we need.”
“Emperor Vand will not be happy with such a decision,” frowned General Chen.
“The Emperor has given me control over this force,” retorted Premer Shamal. “The decision is mine to make. What you generals are unaware of,” he continued softly, “is that Doralin’s fleet was attacked at sea. His losses were not insignificant. While I am not afraid of such a tactic coming from the Khadorans, we are still at risk upon the sea. Look around you, Chen. There are four hundred ships out here. Even a storm could cause great damage to our armies. We cannot afford to stay here much longer. One more day and I will give the order to proceed.”
“I had not heard about Doralin’s misfortune,” frowned General Chen. “How did it happen, and why do you think the Khadorans would not try the same thing?”
“The Sakovans attacked his fleet with hundreds of small ships,” answered the premer. “The small boats had some type of deadly harpoons that pierced the hulls of Doralin’s ships. Each ship that went down cost a thousand men. As for that happening to us, Khadora really has only one port on this coast, and that is Raven’s Point. Not only are there not a hundred ships in Raven’s Point, there are none with weapons attached to them. Besides, I have instructed the ship captains to sink any vessel approaching the fleet. Doralin’s people thought they were fishing boats and let them get too close.”
“You were wise to hide this from the men,” replied General Chen. “While our armies have the courage to face death in battle, sitting here exposed would have terrified them if they had known what had happened to Doralin. Your decision to go ahead with the attack makes perfect sense now.”
“Do not spread word of this until we make landfall, Chen,” warned the premer. “I have only shared this with you because I value your advice. You are the finest general in the Motangan army.”
* * *
The Khadoran bursar was finely attired in silk garments of the white and black colors of the Devon clan. He perused the merchandise only at the most expensive stalls in the marketplace of Khadoratung, and he did so at a leisurely pace. So it was of no surprise that the bursar would end up at the stall of an exclusive merchant situated in the middle of the last row. The merchant, Wendal, immediately sized up the bursar and watched with interest as the man approached.
“Good day to you,” greeted Wendal. “Looking for something in particular?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” nodded the bursar as he placed a large pouch on the table.
The jingle of gold was unmistakable to the merchant as the pouch hit the table. Wendal smiled broadly.
“What do you require?” Wendal asked.
“I am interest in BaGrec,” smiled he bursar.
“The finest artisan to have ever lived,” nodded Wendal. “His pieces are in great demand since he died. What piece are you looking for?”
“The three-legged horse sculpture,” smiled the bursar.
The merchant’s eyes immediately shifted left and right as he scanned the walkways around his stall. He deftly reached out and snared the pouch of gold. He hefted it as if to measure its worth before tucking it under his tunic.
“What would you like to know?” Wendal asked softly.
“Anything and everything about the coming invasion,” declared the bursar. “I am particularly curious about the recent buildings going up around the city.”
“It seems that Sakovan citizens are being relocated here,” replied Wendal. “Many have already arrived, but I understand that thousands are coming in the near future. Whole Sakovan cities are being emptied of the women and children.”
“What of the men?” asked the bursar.
“Only old men are arriving,” answered Wendal. “The fit have remained behind to fight the invaders.”
“And why are Khadoran soldiers working on the buildings?” prompted the bursar. “Where are the laborers?”
“They are far to the east,” replied Wendal. “They are building great trenches.”
“Trenches?” frowned the bursar. “Where and what for?”
“BaGrec’s works have become very expensive these days,” smiled Wendal. “They are in great demand.”
The bursar frowned heavily, but he placed another pouch on the table, which was immediately swept away by Wendal.
“The trenches are a feat that will be spoken about for years to come,” smiled Wendal. “They stretch for many leagues and are designed to impede the advance of the invaders. It is said that a man cannot jump them for they are too wide, but a horse can leap them easily.”
“Where exactly are they located?” asked the bursar.
“There are three that I know of,” replied the merchant. “They are concentric rings between the coast and the Khadora and Lituk Rivers. It is said that they run from the Kalatung Mountains clear to the Fortung Mountains.”
“What about roads across them?” asked the bursar. “Surely they have made places where wagons can pass over the trenches? Many estates would be isolated without some type of bridge.”
“There are three,” nodded the merchant, “but they will be destroyed if the enemy gets close. There is one near each end of the arc and one in the middle. An enemy that seized one of those bridges could entirely defeat the purpose of the trenches. It would be a shame to see such work go to waste.”
“What of the defenses at Raven’s Point?” asked the bursar.
“Those defense plans have been kept well guarded,” frowned Wendal, “but there have been observations that offer clues to what might happen. Of course, if there is an invasion, the value of BaGrec’s works will soar in value.”
“Enough,” the bursar said in a threatening tone as he placed another pouch of gold on the table.
Wendal smiled broadly as he swept the pouch away. “Thousands of mages are reported to be along the coast,” declared the merchant. “Practically every mage in Khadora is out there. The armies of the Imperial Valley are also on the move. Reports speak about traveling far to the east, but not all the way to the coast.”
“Held in reserve to defend a retreat?” frowned the bursar.
“I am not a military man,” shrugged Wendal, “but that would be my guess. It is curious that these troops are traveling so far, and yet the frontier troops have not been ordered to move at all. Especially since many of them are much closer to Raven’s Point.”