But almost all of us will get through as long as the snow holds off, Rendle told himself. He feared the cold more than anything else.
General Thewor, as he had since the invasion began, stayed close to Rendle, just waiting for him to make a mistake. Rendle could feel him, like bad luck, hovering behind him, but paid him scant attention.
“We have been lucky,” the general said.
Rendle knew that, but was not going to let the comment go that easily. “We made our own luck, General. We moved when the time was right.”
The general snorted but said nothing more. He knew he should have had command of this expedition—his cavalry made up more than half the riders!—but understood why Salokan had given it to this aging, petty mercenary. As long as they intended to ride through Chett territory, Rendle was still necessary; but the moment Lynan was in their hands and they were safely back in Haxus, or that part of Hume controlled by Salokan, Thewor himself would personally supervise Rendle’s execution.
“Your men are slowing us down,” Rendle said, pointing to a gaggle of uniformed riders who were trailing at the end of the column.
“They are not used to the cold,” Thewor said defensively.
“The truth is they are not used to such hard work,” Rendle said. “There is a great deal of difference between parade ground riding and real campaigning.”
Thewor tried unsuccessfully not to blush. He shouted an order and an adjutant rode back to the stragglers to hurry them along.
“Two more days, General. Keep them together for just two more days, then we hit the Oceans of Grass.”
“They will get there.”
Rendle grunted, but did not argue. He spurred his horse to catch up with the main column, and Thewor stayed as close behind as his shadow.
For a moment Salokan’s eyes brimmed with tears. He thought it was caused by the majesty of the event, the serried ranks of his spearmen—dressed so finely in their sky blue tunics—marching in attack column across the border with Hume. There was no one there to attack, of course—his cavalry was four leagues away sweeping up any resistance and screening the movement of his army—but it was a great morale builder for the rest of the army waiting their turn to invade Grenda Lear. An hour later the colonels and majors would shout the command for the regiments to fall into marching order and the spears would be raised, the column spread out, and the rate slowed down to sixty paces a minute.
Salokan, for all his emotions, was far more pragmatic than most of his opponents gave him credit for. Except Rendle, he remembered. Rendle understood him the way the a frog understands the kingfisher: with respect, true knowledge, and a little fear. He wiped away the tears, knowing he would spill none for those who would die or be wounded over the next few weeks, and tried not to feel hypocritical about it.
We are all instruments of the state, he silently told the soldiers. We all have our part to play for the good of Haxus, to wipe away with a brilliant victory the disgrace of our fathers ‘ defeat at the hands of Grenda Lear.
Soldiers with darker blue tunics were now marching past him. They were conscripts largely, and would not last long if Grenda Lear had a chance to put its regulars into the field. But they were good for holding a line or digging and then occupying a siege trench; and if they were lucky, most of them would survive long enough to become veterans.
Twenty regiments of spear marched by him that morning, then ten of sword and shield, and finally his cavalry, full panoplied in fancy gear none of the troopers would ever think of using in real combat. And another five thousand light infantry had already fanned ahead to secure bridges and fords. Nearly thirty thousand soldiers in all. Not a bad-sized force with which to start an invasion of a kingdom several times bigger than his own.
But the enemy are spread out, he reminded himself, and unprepared.
Besides, if Rendle did his part, he would soon have another four thousand cavalry and Prince Lynan Rosetheme, a symbol Salokan would use to best effect. As well, he had ten thousand regular infantry and cavalry in reserve and encamped near his capital, though he hoped never to have the need to call on them. This war would depend on speed and luck. If things went well, he would soon control all of Hume. He would then add a sizable merchant fleet to his own, possess new grazing lands, and control access to the Algonka Pass. Perhaps he could even fortify the pass and control it outright. Imagine the tithes and taxes from that. His mind did some quick and not too fanciful calculations. He liked the numbers that rolled around in his mind. With that kind of money, he could double the size of his army and come close to matching Grenda Lear soldier for soldier.
And with Prince Lynan in my hands, perhaps I could force Chandra into an alliance. I could guarantee Tomar’s independence from Kendra. He would like that, I think. Then I would match Grenda Lear in every respect.
But only if this first stage worked, he reminded himself.
He knew it best to remain pragmatic; if worse came to worst, he must know the time to retreat back to Hume to lick his wounds and wait for another opportunity.
Just now, however, having watched his wonderful army march past in all their glory and untested courage, it was hard to be pragmatic.
More tears came to his eyes, and this time he did not bother to wipe them away.
Prado’s forces were moving slower than he liked. There was no problem with his cavalry, but the five hundred Arran archers were not used to marching long hours over alien territory and in winter. He had made sure they were all properly equipped for the cold, but the short days, the gray skies, and the melting snow all took their toll of morale. He knew the hardest part was still to come—the climb over the Algonka Pass, where altitude would add to their misery—but once in the Oceans of Grass things would improve, so he hurried them mercilessly. His troops hated him for it now, but would thank him later on. His captains—Freyma and Sal—knew from their own experience what he was doing and supported him completely, as did the older mercenaries who had gone through the Slaver War, so it could have been worse.
His scouts were already at the base of the Ufero Mountains, and so far there was no sign of any Chett movement. The threat of war had forced him to throw out his initial plan to raid into Haxus itself, but there was no reason why he could still not force Lynan and his protectors into action by raiding the Strangers’ Sooq. If he could return to Kendra with Lynan’s corpse, he would be a made man; Areava might even let him keep his force intact for action against Haxus at a later date. Whatever, he could not go after Ren-dle this spring as he had hoped, but maybe in the summer or spring of the following year.
Prado was eating his evening meal of thick vegetable soup when Freyma, looking excited, interrupted him.
“News from the pass?” he asked.
Freyma shook his head. “One of Charion’s border riders stopped by to get a fresh horse. Salokan has made his move.”
Prado did not hide his surprise. “Already? Any sign of Rendle?”
“No, not that the rider could tell. He only saw light cavalry, and they were dressed in Haxus colors. He said they were screening.”
“So Salokan’s infantry can’t be far behind.”
“That’s the rider’s guess. He only waited for a new mount to be ready and then was off again.”
Prado put down his bowl. “We don’t want to get in Salokan’s way.” He stood up and buckled on his sword belt. “As soon as the evening meal is finished, we set off again. I want to be at the pass in two days.”
Freyma nodded; Prado knew as well as he that the troops would not like it, but they would like it less if they found themselves overwhelmed by an army from Haxus.