"What about the cisterns?" Nasser asked. The army was thirsty.
"Empty," the scouts reported. Someone had broken off the flowstone valves, allowing all the water to drain from the storage tanks.
This was plainly the work of Eladamri and his rebels, but the mysterious state of the blockhouse was unsettling. Why were there no signs of a fight? Where were the dead or the wounded? They couldn't even find any bloodstains. How could a band of rebels, armed only with hand weapons, capture a well-defended blockhouse the army had visited only a few days earlier?
A smudge of dust on the horizon warned Nasser the foot column was on its way. Tharvello and some of the sergeants wanted to keep the troops away from Chireef, hide the strange fate of the garrison from the rank and file. Nasser would not allow it.
"Let everyone know," he said grimly. "This is what they can expect at rebel hands! Let them contemplate Chireef and fight harder to avoid their comrades' fate."
Each company marched past the empty blockhouse. Smashed valves and puddles at the foot of the wall made it clear there was no water for them. Word filtered through the ranks about the disappearance of the entire garrison, and a chill enveloped the already dispirited army.
Nasser ordered the march to continue until dusk. Though they were within a night's march of the Stronghold, the senior sergeant didn't want his dejected troops to arrive home in the middle of the night. He decided to camp one more night and march into the city by the full light of day. Nasser sent a percher ahead with this news. Not knowing where Crovax was, he addressed his message to Greven il-Vec.
He halted the army astride the main road from the Stronghold to Chireef, The tired men filed out of formation and dropped their packs in the dirt. Details were sent to gather tinder for campfires, and the communal pots were unpacked for dinner.
These mundane tasks occupied the army in the last hour of daylight. Nasser and his comrades were about to sit down when sentries reported an unknown light in the sky.
Nasser overturned his bowl in his haste to stand. He didn't have to go far before he spied what the sentries had seen: a bright golden light, low in the air and moving with considerable speed. It was approaching from the southwest, directly away from the Stronghold.
"Airship?" suggested Tharvello. "An enemy airship?" "I don't know. Alert the troops. If we're going to be attacked, the men must disperse."
Trumpets and perchers blared, and the soldiers gave up their meager meals to stand to arms. The aerial beacon was easily visible to all now as it maneuvered below the sluggish clouds. Anxious murmurs passed through the ranks.
The hum of aerial engines reached the soldiers. The first dim outline of the ship behind the light could just be made out. "It's a big one," Tharvello said. "Shut up," Nasser replied.
The gilded searchlight raked the grassy plain, right, left, ahead, and back. Some cavalry were caught in the beam, and the kerls pranced nervously when the light hit their weak eyes. Nasser raised his hand to alert the troops. At his signal they would scatter to avoid the airborne attack.
No missiles or bombs erupted from the airship. Instead, it slowed and began to descend. The searchlight swung down, highlighting the patch of ground where the ship would alight. In the reverse glow, Nasser recognized the long prow, the jutting boarding mandible. "It's Predator!"
The Rathi troops let out a concerted shout of relief, and hundreds rushed forward to greet the landing vessel. Predator dropped to within a few feet of the ground and hovered. Lamps blazed fore and aft, and against the light Nasser could see crew members scurrying about on deck.
A rope ladder unrolled to the ground, but the first man off the ship didn't use it. Greven il-Vec jumped from the deck, landing lightly. He stooped to clear the overhanging bulk of the airship, standing erect once he saw the Corps of Sergeants drawn up to greet him.
"Dread Lord!" Nasser said, over the throb of the hovering ship's engines. "It's good to see you!"
"Is this all that remains of the force?" Greven said sternly, surveying the men clustered around Predator.
Taken aback, Nasser recovered his professional demeanor and replied, "It is, Dread Lord."
"Where's Crovax?"
Nasser looked Greven in the eye. "He's not here, sir. We haven't seen him since this morning."
"What?" Greven thundered. Every man present, veteran or recruit, flinched. "Where is your commanding officer?"
Nasser explained how Crovax vanished when the strange explosion demolished his hut. He expected a further display of temper, but instead the giant warrior seemed pleased to hear of Crovax's unexpected departure.
"Gone, is he? His chance to be evincar is gone, too." Greven noticed the press of soldiers around him and snarled. "Do you men have nothing better to do than stand here, gawking like a bunch of hungry moggs?"
The relieved soldiers returned to their campfires. Greven ordered Predator aloft to watch for trouble while he remained on the ground. He wanted to hear a full account of the battle with the rebels. Then he announced he would personally lead the remnants of the Skyshroud Expedition into the Stronghold.
Greven got the whole story from Nasser and the sergeants. They blamed the wind and fire for their debacle and confirmed that Eladamri had Vec and Dal allies in the fight.
Greven listened to every word. His inhumanly hard features were a mask to the assembled sergeants. As Greven sat there, thinking yet saying nothing, one by one the sergeants slipped away to catch a bit of sleep. Nasser was the last to go.
"If there's nothing else, Dread Lord, I'll say good night." Greven gazed at the dying campfire. Nasser saluted curtly and disappeared into the outer darkness.
He hadn't gone ten yards before Tharvello grabbed him from behind.
"What is it?" said Nasser.
"You heard Greven back there. This means the end of Crovax, doesn't it?"
"Such decisions occur far above my head."
"Come now, you and I took up Crovax's mantle gladly, thinking it would advance us in the army and get us out from under that bastard Greven's thumb. Well, Crovax botched it! We should make amends to Greven."
"You talk like a soft-handed courtier," Nasser said. "I'll not sell my loyalty at the first sign of adversity."
Tharvello grinned. "So you're staying with Crovax?"
"I serve Rath, not any one man. If you think Crovax is finished, you're badly mistaken. Defeat or no defeat, he'll be back stronger than ever. Mark what I say."
Nasser left him.
Tharvello opened his hauberk and pulled out the percher he'd hidden underneath. Perchers remembered the last words spoken in their presence.
Your words are marked, Tharvello thought, stroking the winged creature.
CHAPTER 11
Ertai strolled down a vacant corridor, a long scroll in one hand, a hunk of soft bread in the other. The end of the scroll dragged on the floor as he went, munching his snack. He stepped out into the main corridor just as Dorian il-Dal came barreling along. They went down in a tangle, the scroll entwining around them both as they struggled to free themselves.
"Be still, will you?" Ertai said. "You'll tear the scroll!"
"Help! I've no time for this foolishness! Ugh! Where is the emissary, young man?" Ertai slid out of the tangle. "I haven't seen her." "I must find her! She must be told about this terrible thing!" "What terrible thing?"
Dorian tried to shuck the coils of parchment and untangle his legs from Ertai's. "The hostages! The hostages have disappeared!"