“Go to hell! That’s wicked stuff, Carl. Didn’t they use to put that in torpedo warheads?”
“You got it. We had a few near misses, eh Petto?”
“As you said most vocally on the first occasion, Carl, we nearly blew our goddamed asses off.” Petto’s expression was entirely neutral, but his belly was shaking with silent laughter.
“Way to go, Carl. That’s some fancy English you’ve been handing out.”
“Have your fun, Friedrick. You’ll get yours. Now, where the hell was I?” Carl frowned, raised a finger and nodded. “Anyway, what it boils down to is this thing in my hand. Stick a fuse in it and stand way back. Toward the end of our test schedule we had stumps flying every which way. The question is, do we introduce this stuff or not? How bad does the situation have to get before we use it? Do we use it now in defense of Rugen and contribute to the deaths of thousands later? Once you demonstrate something is possible, a lot of other folks will figure out how it was done. I’ve had some sleepless nights over this one, I can tell you.”
Moving on, they visited the infirmary Carl had set up. Rather than try to convert old hands set in their ways, he had recruited new staff and trained them in antiseptic technique. While touring the facility, Carl reverted to their former topic of conversation.
“It isn’t all bad, though. If I can find a vein of bituminous coal around here, we might be able to knock out some sulfa drugs.”
“That salve working out all right for you?”
“In spades. Only problem is finding the right mold this far north. I’ve got a crew out harvesting whatever there is. That’s when it gets hard. Even if they bring back bales of it I still have to find a way to isolate and extract the active ingredient. After that, coming up with a tablet won’t pose a problem. Now, developing an injectable form is going to be one tough job.”
Jeff smiled at the excited gleam in Carl’s eye. “Sounds like fun.”
Once outside they noticed that thunderheads had moved over the city. They weren’t dressed for rain and hustled home, chewing on the pros and cons of gun cotton as they went.
Dropping their mounts off at the stable, they hurried inside to the sound of thunder and the patter of raindrops. Entering the parlor, Jeff strode to the fireplace with outstretched hand.
“It is such a pleasure to see you again!”
Rengeld stood warming his hands over the fire. While his clothing was proper in every respect, it hung on his frame like a gunnysack. Thinner by twenty pounds or more, his eyes were sunken and highlighted by dark circles. Rengeld gripped Jeff’s hand with undiminished enthusiasm.
“Your presence is a gift from the gods, Jeffrey. Were you not standing here I would hardly credit it. Ethbar has related the gist of your winter’s journey, and I must tell you it far outpaces those described in legend. Yet you have returned to us with the promise of allies.”
“Let us pray the promise is fulfilled.”
“Never doubt what the gods ordain, Jeffrey. They will come.” Rengeld released Jeff’s hand to accept a cup of coffee. “This evening, may I relate the results of the scouting expedition?”
“Considering its purpose, I would be disappointed had you not offered.”
Rengeld waved them toward chairs but remained standing. “One detachment of troops was set the mission of enlisting recruits, and of them I will say no more. I led the larger body of scouts south for some days, meaning to keep rendezvous with agents returning from Astholf and Khorgan.
“It was a hard trip from what I see.”
“Nothing compared to your own, Jeffrey.”
“It was a long winter. Any evidence the Salchek are moving north?”
“No less than a full army from Khorgan.”
“It’s a shock to hear it, but not surprising. They want to consolidate their hold on Arvalia as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, before a defense can be organized.” Rengeld’s face was animated and his hands clasped and unclasped behind his back. “From what is known at this time, the army’s strength is judged to include four thousand Salchek in addition to three or four thousand troops conscripted in Khorgan. Traveling with the foot soldiers are, we estimate, one hundred of their two-wheeled fighting carts and four hundred light cavalry. Should they continue at the pace we observed, I judge they will arrive in no more than nine or ten weeks.”
The room was silent as they mentally juggled timetables and a host of other factors.
“What of the army’s supply train?”
“An interesting question, my friend. We counted less than two hundred wains and a smaller number of pack animals. The point of your question?”
Jeff carefully reviewed his reasoning. Rengeld was not a man to tolerate sloppy thinking. “As you are aware, I am familiar with lands the Salchek must cross to achieve investiture of Rugen. An amazing and wonderful land, but one woefully lacking in the usual sources of food for an army on the march. There are no cities to plunder along the way, no farms to strip of livestock. Although large herds of grazing animals roam the prairie, they are often difficult to locate. I am sure the Salchek know of these animals, but I doubt they would risk their army on the hope of finding them.”
“And what does this suggest to you?”
The narrow-eyed way Rengeld was staring at him made Jeff pause to think it through one more time. “It is my thought that much damage and great delay would result if the Salchek supply train were disabled or destroyed. It is said that an army does not long march on an empty stomach. While no expert in this matter, the size of the supply train you recount seems adequate to feed such an army for only a short period.”
“I find no fault with your reasoning, but come. Let us try conclusions.”
“And so I shall. Tales of Salchek arrogance abound, and I believe they are correct. Certainly they have encountered no meaningful resistance to date, and did not during their last invasion until encountering the yellow-hairs. It is my judgment they anticipate quick reduction of Rugen. With that accomplished, the problem of food disappears.”
“A man after my own heart.” Rengeld bowed grandly to Jeff. “Your assessment further persuades me. Yes! That is where opportunity beckons! I have most carefully weighed the Salchek Army’s food requirements, and conclude they will have little remaining upon arrival at these walls. Now to the manner of exploiting Salchek arrogance. Shall we consider it?”
Ethbar put his foot down and insisted they eat a decent meal. Rengeld was nodding off before he finished. Ethbar sent him to get some rest, leaving the three remaining to toss ideas around for the balance of the evening.
What emerged by the time they called it quits for the night was the urgent necessity of mounting a southern campaign. That night after thinking about it a long time, Jeff shaved off his beard and folded away the last of his winter clothing.
Rengeld strode into the dining room during breakfast and presented his plan of attack. Jeff agreed that a force of 200 cavalry would suit their purpose. They would move fast, wreck havoc, and be gone. The forest spur where Jeff and Carl had met with the combined Alarai mind would provide concealment until the time to strike. Throughout the discussion, Jeff struggled with a personal dilemma.
The Salchek were on the way. That meant he had to return to the moot grounds within several weeks and get the Alemanni started south. Yet several ideas had been taking shape since the previous evening that would demand his presence in the expeditionary force. What to do, he thought. There has to be a way to work this out.
That afternoon, Jeff spent several hours in the hilltop park that had given him his first overview of Rugen. It was the perfect location to ponder his north versus south dilemma. Someone had planted flowers in neat beds and the fragrance helped to settle his mind. To the west, a rain squall swept over part of the city while bright sunshine warmed the rest. As he watched, a perfect rainbow formed.
Gaereth could probably handle the Alemanni situation, Jeff thought while admiring the colors in the rainbow, but where was he
? Had Gaereth arrived at the moot grounds? Jeff left the park late in the day resolved to take action that had been put off too long.
Having communicated his intent to Balko, they sat facing each other on the floor of their room. Joining minds with Balko, Jeff shot their combined carrier wave north. They were getting tired when Jeff caught a tendril of thought that seemed alien and familiar at the same time. His mind boiling with conflicting emotion, Jeff focused the carrier wave.
“Gaereth?” He received an impression of startled excitement.
“Jeffrey? Where do you seek from?”
Memories of their first meeting in a forest unknown light years away and years in the past immediately came to mind. He didn’t know anything about Gaereth. Could he really be his grandfather? If so, why had Gaereth left him to die in the snowfields?
“My wolf-brother and I are in Rugen. Matters are coming to a boil so fast that things might come apart.”
The connection had grown stronger, and Gaereth’s thoughts were clear as a bell. Excitement bubbled at the surface, but underneath lay something else laden with power and a span of time that Jeff could not comprehend.
“I am close on arrival at the moot grounds. Will we meet there?”
Although Gaereth seemed at ease with the connection, Jeff and Balko were straining to hold their end open. Submerging his doubts to attend to business before he lost it, Jeff filled Gaereth in on recent events and his dilemma.
“…And there you have it. I really need to go with the cavalry, but that leaves the Alemanni situation uncovered. If you would start them south and keep watch over things along the way, it would be a great relief. My darkest fear is that some minor quarrel will lead to a general conflict and rupture the alliance. They are an unruly and quarrelsome lot.”
Jeff and Balko were suddenly bathed in a glow of good humor. “Indeed they are. I will be happy to do what I may to keep these wild men of the North in good spirits, and their murderous tendencies in check. I will seek your mind at this time on the morrow. Good rest to you, Jeffrey and Balko.”
As good as his word, Jeff and Balko picked up Gaereth’s questing thought pattern the next evening.
“All is well at the moot, Jeffrey. Halric reports some two thousand souls present at this time. We will begin moving south within the week. May I trust that a camp will be prepared for our arrival?”
“A camp is being set up west of the road about two hours ride north of Rugen. Are you well enough provisioned for the trek south?”
“As you Americans say, no problem. To occupy the energies of our Alemanni brethren, I’ll organize hunting competitions to feed the troops. They can test each other’s mettle by the game tally rather than in camp by breaking heads.”
Jeff couldn’t help chuckling at that sally. When Gaereth continued, the carrier wave of his thoughts was serious.
“I’m looking forward to greeting you in person. I have much to apologize for.”
Gaereth signed off before Jeff could respond.
The expedition planned on leaving in no more than a week, and Jeff had to scramble. Concerned that the Alemanni camp would indeed be ready, he also had to spend considerable time with Imogo and Ethbar smoothing out details.
The expeditionary force assembled early one morning well outside the city. The troopers had been roused before daybreak. To preserve secrecy they had been told nothing of the mission. Like any military organization on the move, they exchanged excited rumors and some close guesses. None doubted that war was at hand.
Rengeld gave the order to march and his captain and lieutenants moved the troops out in column, packhorses bringing up the rear. Jeff rode parallel to the column. The sight and sounds of 200 cavalry trotting in formation accompanied by the occasional drum roll was exhilarating. Bright unit pennons, the creak and clinking of saddle and harness: no amount of book study could have prepared him for the impact.
Cynic particularly liked the drums and invariably shifted into a high-stepping gait at each passage.
“It appears you are happy to be on the road again, horse-brother.”
“It is time to be at the enemy. I am content.”
Balko was unreservedly enthusiastic about the opportunities for mayhem that were soon to present themselves. His only complaint was the slow pace of the troop. That complaint supplied Jeff with a solution to the last part of the plan he had been considering.
They had no reserves to fall back on if things went to hell, as things almost always did in battle. Their slash and burn strategy by its very nature ruled out such provision. Jeff thought he had the solution, and Balko’s impatience might be a key factor in bringing his plan to the operational phase.
“Wolf-brother, do you sense ‘Balthazar’s’ pack?”
“While it is in our mind that they hunt in our direction, this one cannot hear their voice.”
“That has also been our conclusion. We sense that our wolf-brother moves south to provide assistance in battles to come. Can his pack be found and brought to us? Time grows short before we engage the enemy.”
The various time demands were complex, requiring a good deal of consultation.
“I believe we might succeed if I were to move quickly and catch their minds, wolf-brother.”
“I agree. There is sufficient time remaining but none to waste. This will be your task. It promises to be a difficult run.”
“I anticipate it greatly.”
Balko’s only reservation was that he didn’t want to wind up so far afield that he missed the action. Reassuring him there was enough time and Salchek to spare, Jeff double-checked to make sure they were using the same timetable. When he was satisfied, they bid each other farewell and Balko streaked for the forest. Although he felt optimistic, Jeff decided not to report Balko’s mission until it was certain that Balthazar’s pack could be located in time.
The troop rounded the southern extremity of the forest spur three weeks after leaving Rugen. Turning north, they penetrated far enough to ensure a safe base camp. Two veteran scouts attached to the cavalry troop left at once to locate the Salchek Army.
The scouts returned several days later than expected. Jeff looked them over with a bemused expression. Dressed in buckskin from head to toe, Taget and Harko reminded Jeff of nothing so much as a pair of mountain men from America’s past. All they lacked were Kentucky long rifles to make the picture complete. Their speech was also different. While of the North, it was so full of contractions and novel idiosyncrasies that at times it was hard to follow. Jeff had not encountered the dialect before and wondered if it was a natural result of long periods alone in the woods.
He had queried Rengeld on the way south, but had learned little about the men’s origins. Taget and Harko had simply drifted in from somewhere to the west several years ago and signed on. Although an odd couple, Rengeld made it clear he had come to trust them without reservation.
Shifting from foot to foot in front of Rengeld and Jeff, Taget eyed Rengeld with some trepidation.
“Sir, I’m purty shor yer not gone ta like this one bit. Thar ain’t one army out thar, they’s two. Me an’ Harko near run inta a bunch’a sojers comin’ from the southeast what warn’t supposed ta be thar. Looks ta me they’s comin’ from Astholf, sir.
“I sent Harko ta sorter keep a eye on the army from Khorgan whilst I figgered out how many they was. I counted around a thousand sojers on foot, city folk from the look of ‘em. Mebbe two hunnerd what was mounted. They was another hunnerd or so a them Salchek runnin’ things.”
“Two armies.” Rengeld looked down and studied the ground for some time. He nodded. “I should not be surprised.”
Jeff retrieved a sheet of parchment from his saddlebags and held it out to the scouts along with a piece of charcoal.
“It would be of great assistance if you could draw how close the armies are to each other, and where they are.”
The scouts muttered together before Taget pushed Harko to the forefront.
As the drawing took shap
e it became clear to Jeff that the armies were likely to rendezvous about eight miles south of the forest spur, with the smaller force from Astholf falling in behind. He couldn’t stop a grimace, and thought, Bloody supply train is going to wind up protected by two armies. It’ll be like pissing up a rope to attack that setup.
Dismissing the scouts, Rengeld invited Jeff to join him for a stroll in the woods. “It is possible that our plans were discovered,” Rengeld mused. “More likely, however, is the simple fact that the force at Astholf was not well scouted. That will be looked into upon our return. We are now confronted with a difficult tactical problem.”
“There is little doubt about that.”
Rengeld pointed a twig at the supply train, which was situated at the rear of the main army. “I judge the two forces will merge some distance south and a tithe west of our location within no more than a day. By this evening, they may well be in sight of one another. The combined force will then continue north.”
“If we attack the supply train tonight,” Jeff observed, “the Astholf force will be in position to flatten us against the Khorgan Army. Yet, if we wait until the armies join they will roll us up from both flanks in a matter of minutes. The risks are extreme.”
“Extreme and unacceptable unless our force be traded for the supply train. Such a decision at the beginning of a long campaign would be foolhardy.”
“I agree. However there is another option I have been considering that might improve the odds considerably. What if a blocking force attacked the Astholf column before they joined up?”
“Why, then, our original plan is sound. But tell me, Jeffrey,” Rengeld said with frustrated sarcasm, “will you divide our small force and thus risk defeat of each inadequate part, or conjure spirits to assist us in this worthy cause?”
Jeff wasn’t stung at all by Rengelds’s comment. In fact, it was hard to keep an inner smile from showing on his face at such an apt description of a wolf pack.
“The latter option is appealing and does have great merit. I have worked with my companion for some days to achieve this desirable state of affairs.”
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 40