Nathaniel frowned. "Reckon I might have to learn some letters to do that myself."
"It's not something you will enjoy."
"Don't expect it is. Needs doing." Nathaniel sighed. "Part of my responsibility to my men."
"Your men?" Forest smiled. "Strike me, but I never thought I'd hear you utter those words."
"Ain't saying they come easy, but I reckon you know that. And you knowed this was a-coming when you made me an officer."
"I might have at that." The Major rested his living hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "I knew you would make a good officer."
"Not sure your trust is entirely placed right." Nathaniel glanced back toward the wharf. "Truth be told, when they was charging, fear took a mighty hold of me. I could have run."
"But you didn't."
"No, sir."
"Do you know why you didn't?"
"Got it narrowed down to being too ornery or just a damned fool."
Forest laughed, an incongruous sound in the fort, but no less a welcome one. "You didn't run because, if you did, your men would have run and died. Their only chance was to stand and fight. And they would do that for you, because of their trust in you. You didn't betray that trust. As an officer, you can never do that. Your men will die and, even if you survive, you'll be dead inside."
Nathaniel glanced down. "I reckon I need to do some more thinking on that, but thank you, sir."
"You're more than welcome, Captain." Forest nodded solemnly. "And you might as well rejoice. The Mystrian Rangers have defeated a larger Ryngian force and put a lie to the story of Villerupt."
"I reckon that's true." Nathaniel smiled for a moment, then his brows arrowed together. "Occurs to me now that didn't nobody tell us what we was supposed to do once we took this place."
"That's because we weren't supposed to take it." Forest's eyes narrowed. "Colonel Boucher told me that he'd had word from Kebeton that a hundred fifty men were on their way to capture his fort. He refused to believe because the very idea was outrageous. I think he's still waiting for the rest of our force to come out of the woods."
"I reckon his being warned means Deathridge wanted us dead."
"Or Rivendell, or their enemies." Forest shook his head. "Perhaps they didn't want us dead, just out of the way."
"And being here accomplishes that, don't it?"
"It does." The Major stared out to the east. "If we cut back the woods and use the lumber to give this place a back wall, we could hang on to it for a good long time. And absent other orders, that's as good a plan as any."
Chapter Sixty-Three
August 1, 1764
La Fortresse du Morte
Anvil Lake, Mystria
P rince Vlad read Rivendell's brief note again, then looked at the Lieutenant who had delivered it. "Lord Rivendell is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed? And yet he has summoned my Colonel Daunt to his meeting?"
The Lieutenant, a slender young man who had developed none of an adult's angles to his body or face, shook his head. "I do not know what the message said, Highness. I was told to give it to you and report back to Lord Rivendell immediately."
"You'll wait here." Vlad stalked from his tent. "Count von Metternin Captain Strake! To me immediately!"
The Prince ground his teeth. Rivendell had consistently played the fool, but his conduct in the last forty-eight hours had gone beyond the pale. On July thirtieth Rivendell had sent the Laureate an invitation to dine in his headquarters in honor of Tharyngia's Liberation Day. Rivendell had even ordered Blackoak's band to practice the Ryngian anthem.
Du Malphias declined regretfully, citing a need to celebrate with his men, but extended an invitation for the officers from the other evening's festivities to join him in his fort. Rivendell and his command staff accepted. Bumble did not. Prince Vlad offered Count von Metternin in his place, but du Malphias' envoy had politely declined.
I knew nothing good would come of that dinner. He half-hoped du Malphias would poison the Norillians. Prince Vlad would then take command, retire and build Fort Hope solidly. He'd add a smaller fort atop the hills on either side, thereby guaranteeing control of the high ground.
The Tharyngians had celebrated enthusiastically, firing off cannons. Chemicals added to the brimstone produced bright red and green flames. Ryngian mortars launched fused charges that exploded in the air, providing dazzling displays of light. Ever courteous, the Ryngians aimed the mortars over the lake, so no errant charge could explode among the besieging army.
The Mystrians had worked day and night digging trenches and moving their cannon forward. They'd gotten to within eight hundred yards of the fort. They controlled the battlefield, but the glacises prevented them from hitting the walls. That would require them to be two hundred yards closer. Vlad imagined that du Malphias would use his cannon to discourage those efforts.
Owen found the Prince first. "Yes, Highness?"
"What do you know of Rivendell's doings?"
The younger man shook his head. "Not much. The diners started working yesterday after their hangovers eased. Everyone else was kept away. What has he done?"
"He's undone us all, I am sure." The Prince nodded as the Kessian joined them. "Come, gentlemen. Lord Rivendell requires a visit."
Von Metternin's eyes tightened. "Rivendell has taken du Malphias' bait?"
"I believe so." Vlad had been afraid of trickery ever since the invitation had been extended. Rivendell's contempt for du Malphias would blind him to whatever the Laureate sought to hide.
The Norillian commander assumed du Malphias was every bit the gentleman he was. Since Rivendell would never stoop to trickery, he assumed that du Malphias would likewise eschew deception. Rivendell and his subordinates would accept the Laureate's word that things were as they appeared to be. They would note things of interest within the fort, and think themselves far cleverer than their host for having gotten inside to take a look.
They just would never imagine that what they saw was exactly what du Malphias wanted them to see.
As they marched, Vlad glanced toward the fortress. In no time shot and shell would shred the green, grassy expanse between camps. It would destroy the men fighting their way across it. Though Prince Vlad had never witnessed warfare on this scale before, he'd read enough and talked to enough men, that he had no trouble imagining the bleeding ruin Rivendell's foolishness would foster.
"I cannot let Rivendell's folly kill men." Vlad stared at the soldier blocking the entrance to the tent. "Stand aside, soldier."
Stone-faced and silent, the man remained rigidly in place.
Owen slipped past him and slashed through the tent's wall with his Altashee obsidian knife. "This way, Highness."
Owen stepped aside as Vlad passed through the slit. He had never seen that level of resolution on the Prince's face before. Count von Metternin followed him, then Owen squeezed through. The tent had been divided into three parts, with the largest-Rivendell's headquarters-taking up nearly two-thirds. The smaller two areas were centered one around a bunk and the other a small dining table.
Langford abandoned the map table around which Rivendell and three other colonels had gathered, moving to intercept the Prince. "You should not be here, Highness."
Vlad stopped him with a glare. "Your saying that is precisely why I must be."
Rivendell's head came up. "Leave us, Highness. You, too, von Metternin. Colonel Langford, place Captain Strake under arrest."
"What deviltry are you up to, Johnny?"
"This is a military matter, Highness. I command you to leave."
The Prince hammered a fist on the table. Colonel Thornbury jumped back, giving Owen a glance at the map. Rivendell and his colonels had altered Owen's original survey map significantly. They'd placed a small sheet of paper over the central stone roundhouse and had drawn flowers and a tree upon it. The gun emplacements remained correctly positioned, but instead of four cannon at each, they'd only placed two. Beside the barracks buildings they'd made notes indicating that only battalions of the Platine Regiment were on station. Other notes indicated that a hundred civilians functioned as laborers.