Lavant grimaced. "Perhaps, but good planning and a strong investment in the future have been most instrumental. Our deeds favor the Merchant's Friend, and she favors our path."
Darvin wanted to laugh at the high priest, for it was so plain to him that the pudgy man, in his arrogance and stubborn belief in the goddess he worshiped, could not share credit elsewhere, especially not with another divine force. The assassin held his tongue, though, for he saw little benefit in riling up his accomplice, though the pleasure it would give him was tempting.
"I have to go," he said instead, handing the parchment back to Lavant. "I have a mercenary pest to catch, and you have a position within the temple to fill."
"Remember," Lavant cautioned, "don't underestimate her."
"Not on your life," Darvin replied. "I did once already. It won't happen again."
"How many are with us?" Vambran asked, closing his eyes and lying back, resting his head against the rocks where he sat. He could hear the tiredness in his voice, the devastation, and he knew he needed to fight through that, to put a strong, decisive face on for the rest of the men. It was hard, though, not knowing what happened to Kovrim.
"Twenty-three, sir," Horial reported. He stood near where Vambran was resting, on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the beach where the handful of Crescents had made it to shore. "Blangarl and Tholis are in need of healing, but the rest are in fine shape, if a little tired."
"Twenty-three," Vambran repeated. "We lost nearly half," he lamented, feeling defeated. "So many."
He sat there for a long moment, wondering how many were still out there somewhere, lost, and how many had died.
Or perhaps had gone to some mysterious place deep beneath the waves, he thought wistfully.
Either way, Vambran doubted he would see them again. He let the sorrow of that notion course through him, grieving for every single one of the men and women he would never speak to, would never fight alongside again. Then he sighed and sat up, opening his eyes once more and turning toward Horial. "You have a full accounting of each one missing?" he asked solemnly.
The sergeant nodded. "Adyan is making a list right now," he said. "I'll have him give you a report when he's finished."
Vambran nodded. "How are we doing on supplies?" he asked, changing the subject. Better to deal with what we can control and stop worrying about what we can't, he told himself.
"Thin," Horial replied. "Most of the troops have some sort of weapon, but we are short on bolts, and four are unarmed other than with a personal blade such as a dagger or something similar. Other than that, we've got very little. Almost no one was carrying a pack when the attack occurred, so most of our provisions sank."
Marvelous, Vambran thought silently. "Food?" he asked.
Horial shook his head. "Almost none," he replied. "Foraging shouldn't be a problem, but hunting might be troublesome, with the shortage of ammunition. Of course, some of the men are pretty handy with a sling, so they figure they can make do that way. I've got them gathering stones from the beach right now. Otherwise, we may have to rely on Waukeen's bounty."
Vambran nodded. "If it comes to that, I'll be prepared for the castings. Do we have much of an idea where we are?"
Horial opened his mouth to reply, but a shout from down on the beach cut him off. Both men rose up to peer down onto the sandy shore and saw several Crescents pointing and running. Vambran turned in the direction to which the soldiers' attention had been drawn and spotted a number of mounted figures riding along beyond the perimeter of the beach, near the edge of the forest, coming toward them. They were armed with bows and crossbows, and most of them wore livery of white with some sort of black or possibly silver insignia on it. They were too far away for Vambran to make it out clearly. The figures were strung out, in a long and loose line, and they seemed to be moving warily in the direction of the Crescents' position.
"Scouts," Vambran said as his sergeant began to scramble down the rocks toward the sand below. "Get the men to form up, Horial. Quickly! Double wing formation, backs to these rocks!"
The sergeant scampered down off the outcropping, moving away from Vambran. As he reached the flats of the beach, Horial began shouting orders to the milling soldiers.
Vambran stayed behind, using the superior vantage point to keep watching the scouts maneuver.
Already, Vambran could see more figures in the distance, an orderly column of soldiers marching in his direction from farther along the beach. There were a lot of them, and Vambran found himself wishing he still held his spyglass, so he could get a better look, but like so much else, the lieutenant had lost it among the waves of the Reach during the ship battle.
On impulse, Vambran turned and clambered over a few jagged projections until he was in position to peer in the opposite direction. As he feared, the mercenary officer spotted another group of troops moving toward him from that direction. Again, mounted soldiers led the way, moving in a line right along the edge of the forest. They were light cavalry, the lieutenant realized, strung out to dissuade the Crescents from making a break for the trees, holding Vambran and his troops in place so they could be caught between the two groups of infantry marching from either side.
Damn! They knew we were here, he reasoned, furious at himself for not sending scouts of his own out sooner. Then Vambran's eyes narrowed in suspicion. They knew we were here because they're serving the same curs who sent the pirates against us. The lieutenant's sudden insight made his stomach churn.
No time for worrying about that now, he thought, turning and rapidly working his way back across the rocky point so he could join his men. We're going to get slaughtered if we don't get out of this trap.
Once down on the sand, Vambran sprinted toward the formation he had ordered, which he saw was already formed up. Men armed only with blades were positioned in the middle in a single tight rank, while those with crossbows took up spots on either flank, spaced out a bit more. With only twenty-three men, the formation was pitifully small.
When he joined his soldiers, Vambran knew what they had to do, and he didn't hesitate for a moment. "Crescents!" he said, running into a position in front of his troops, turning his back to the enemy for a moment and facing the remains of his company. "We're pinned between two larger forces, coming from either direction." Vambran gestured both ways along the beach. "This is a lawless land where anyone you meet is an enemy until proven otherwise. Their intentions are clear, and there are too few of us to stand and fight. Once again, I must ask you to retreat from the battle, though I know it leaves a foul taste in your mouths to do so." There was some muted rumbling among the men and women formed up in front of Vambran, but he held up his hand for silence.
"We'll make a break for the trees," he said, pointing behind himself. "Keep together as much as you can because we're going to have to plow through their skirmish line to get to the woods. They are mounted, but they are strung out enough that we ought to be able to punch a hole through them and melt into the forest. Once there, we can use the cover to our advantage and convince these bastards to go find easier pickings elsewhere." A handful of encouraging shouts issued forth, but most of the twenty-three were subdued, silent.
Knowing that delaying any longer would cost them opportunity, Vambran wasted no more time. He nodded to Horial, who issued the order for the troops to begin moving forward. Initially the Crescents moved in a smooth, cohesive block, with the center portion remaining in a straight line and the flanks, the crossbowmen, trailing out to either side, so that the whole formation appeared to be something of a blunt-nosed wedge, moving right toward the thin line of skirmishers.