‘They will not. We have to force them back to the city by beating them in the field. And we will only do that by out-thinking them. They’ve moved their magic from Aryndeneth, Hynd. Where to? Where will their next attack come? Will it be magical or just those fucking TaiGethen or more of those elf-cat things?’
The two of them walked out into the light and the village behind the temple, and Jeral knew he was right. The village was closed and tidy. The evacuation had been planned and executed perfectly.
‘But surely that is why we have to march as we currently do? Defensively.’
‘No! We should work out all their potential attack styles and have plans to combat them. Then we need to march as fast as we can because every day spent in this accursed place claims more lives, stamina and morale. And now food is running short too, isn’t it? As we are, we’ll be so weakened by the time we reach Katura, we might not even beat the little bastards.’
Jeral stared at Hynd and saw the light beginning to dawn.
‘Well we’d better get back quickly, hadn’t we?’ Hynd said.
‘Why?’
‘Because they’re about to leave the river and head inland.’
‘So they are,’ said Jeral. ‘Into the maw of the beast.’
Hynd walked with Jeral as he crossed the outer pickets. The army had stopped for the day and was camping along a minor tributary from which dozens of glorious fish were being pulled, having been stunned by a sound-wave casting. Fires were already burning and the smells of cooking were, for a change, not tainted by suspicion.
‘Still angry?’ he asked.
‘Still alive?’ said Jeral.
‘I urge caution,’ said Hynd.
Jeral shrugged. He’d been thinking about what he’d say all the way back. Caution wasn’t the primary feature of his planned conversation.
‘Why?’
‘Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news. The good news is that the generals are all in one place discussing tactics. Lockesh is with them too. The bad news is that they anticipate an encounter tomorrow and I don’t think they’ll much care about Aryndeneth right now. Maybe you should keep your counsel until we camp tomorrow night.’
‘Actually this sounds like the perfect opportunity. In fact keeping quiet now might cost us more lives, especially if we don’t change our tactics.’
‘And you know what the right tactics are, I suppose,’ said Hynd.
Jeral felt his anger flare up. ‘Well I tell you something, those idiots certainly don’t. What’s your problem? I’m not making you come with me.’
Hynd’s shoulders sagged. ‘It ought to be obvious. We’re friends, or I like to think we are, and I’ve watched you wind yourself up to a spitting fury ever since we left Aryndeneth. I’m with you, our generals are mismanaging this whole army, but getting yourself strung up on an insubordination charge isn’t going to help our cause, is it?’
‘Sorry, Mother, I’ll promise to try to stay calm.’
Hynd sighed. ‘It’ll have to do, I suppose.’
‘So it will.’ Jeral felt his tension ease just a little. ‘Look, I hear you, all right? But I need them to hear me.’
‘Well, Loreb apart, I think you have a certain standing among the rank and file tacticians.’
Jeral raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a compliment?’
‘Nearly.’
‘Right.’ Jeral looked about him. The rest of Dead Company was waiting for his word, every one of them angry, feeling isolated, betrayed and looking to him to improve their lot. ‘Let’s make this easy on ourselves. You lot, no violence but don’t let anyone stop me joining the meeting either, all right?’
Jeral led his men along the outer picket line, not wishing to draw unwanted attention to themselves. The meeting was being held right in the centre of the camp, inside a tent erected for the purpose. It was ringed with soldiers and mages, most drawn from Pindock’s personal company nicknamed the Yellow Guard. Aides were clustered outside the entrance and a table had been erected for some purpose that escaped Jeral.
Jeral motioned his men to back away and spread out while he strode ahead with Hynd at his shoulder. One of Killith’s aides nudged Ishtak and Jeral gave him a broad smile. Ishtak’s expression was less than welcoming. Jeral saw his lips move and his whole body tense.
‘Pleased to see me, Ishtak?’ said Jeral, finding the aide’s evident discomfort extremely gratifying. ‘Or just disappointed to see I’m still breathing?’
‘That rather depends. What do you want?’
‘Well, as you can see, we are surprisingly well given our latest mission. And as you know, to complete the mission I am required to deliver my report to my commanding officer. So, here I am. Show me in.’
Ishtak’s smile was thin to the point of vanishing. ‘I don’t think so, Captain. General Loreb is meeting the army leaders to prepare our tactics for the advance tomorrow. This is not the sort of company into which I am prepared to introduce you.’
‘My dear Ishtak — glad to see that bruise on your chin fading by the way — I have information which is vital to that discussion. I must have audience.’
Another aide leaned in and whispered in Ishtak’s ear. Ishtak nodded and an oily smile spread across his face. He moved aside.
‘Then please, Captain, do go in. The generals and principal mage will be delighted to hear more words of wisdom from the man who oversaw the poisoning of his own company.’
Jeral let his shoulder collide, hard, with Ishtak on his way into the pavilion. Inside, the smell of pipe smoke was nauseating. The generals were seated on a crude arrangement of fallen logs, a hastily drawn map on the ground in front of them. Both Pindock and Lockesh were puffing away on pipes stuffed with the most revolting of elven tobacco. Lockesh appeared bored to the point of distraction while Pindock was as nervous as Jeral would have expected.
Of Loreb and Killith he could see little. Both had their backs to him. He cleared his throat.
‘My generals and honoured Lord Mage, please forgive my intrusion.’
Loreb spat out whatever spirit he had been knocking back and jerked so violently Jeral thought he might slip from his log. He managed to regain his balance and turned, standing as he did.
‘I’ll forgive you nothing,’ he said. ‘Get out.’
‘No. Sir.’ Every head turned to watch him. ‘With respect, each of you needs to hear what I have learned. I have information that will save lives.’
‘Always so dramatic, Captain Jeral,’ said Pindock. ‘What do you say, Killith, shall we hear him?’
‘Never mind Killith,’ snapped Loreb. ‘Captain Jeral, you will excuse yourself or you will be escorted out under guard and brought up on charges.’
‘I’m sick of your posturing, you pissed old oaf,’ Jeral muttered under his breath.
‘I beg your pardon?’ demanded Loreb.
‘I’m so sorry. Let me repeat myself more clearly.’
‘Jeral!’ said Hynd.
‘Out!’ shouted Loreb.
‘No,’ said Jeral. ‘Sir.’
Loreb roared for the guards. Killith was shouting something incoherent and Pindock had already retreated across the pavilion. Then Lockesh spoke, his voice reaching into every mind and prompting mouths already open with accusations to slam shut.
‘Hynd,’ said Lockesh. ‘Saddling yourself with this troublemaker. Why?’
‘Because I believe he must be heard,’ said Hynd.
Jeral nodded his gratitude to Hynd. Lockesh was a tall man with heavy features and a powerful frame that would have served him well as a warrior. He stood. The generals seemed to shrivel in response. Jeral was pretty sure he’d cast some kind of spell to achieve that effect but it was hard to tell. He was a particularly skilled mage.
‘Then he shall be heard.’ Lockesh’s eyes fixed on Hynd. ‘And he had better have something civil and pertinent to say, or you will both pay for this interruption.’
‘No pressure, Captain,’ whispered Hynd.
Jeral shrugged. ‘Aryndeneth was empty, General Loreb. The Sharps had gone long before we got there.’