“We would need a flanking force to cross here,” Regin gestured at the map, “to cover the raiding force. The enemy could not easily outflank us to the north, but we would need to pull the boats back east of the river, until they are needed to retrieve us following the raid.” As he spoke, a part of him, a large part of him, wished he were truly planning for a successful raid rather than the betrayal and death of the crown princess. He was good at strategic planning, and he enjoyed it. Oh, if circumstances were different! Regin almost wished he did not know the overwhelming strength of the enemy, so he could plan a bold raid in blissful ignorance of the awful, inevitable truth that Tarador was doomed. To go out in a blaze of glory, fighting alongside brave men and women of Tarador, fighting his country’s ancient enemy-
No. No, defeat was inevitable, he knew it in his heart. His action to betray the princess was not treason, he would be acting to salvage something recognizable from the destruction of Tarador. Regin Falco told himself he was acting out of patriotism, and after he sold that lie to himself, every step he took toward treason was easy.
“Duke Falco,” Magrane held up a hand to interrupt. “Your Grace, your insight is welcome and your proposed tactics are sound, but I fear this task is beyond the abilities of the Royal Army at the present time.” Crossing the river, conducting a large-scale raid and then safely retreating back across the river with the bulk of the raiding force intact would be a massive, complicated operation and Magrane’s head ached just to think of planning the details. “The enemy knows the vital importance of that supply dump, and has stationed substantial forces to guard it. At great risk to herself, Madame Chu,” he nodded respectfully to the wizard, “has gathered valuable information about the strength and disposition of enemy forces in that area. The enemy would have advantages of numbers, terrain and supply lines.”
Ariana grew increasingly unhappy and withdrawn as the commander of her Royal Army and the Duke of Burwyck province argued about raiding the enemy supply dump. For some reason she did not understand, Regin Falco insisted they had to take the risk of sending the Royal Army deep into Acedor, though everything she had heard about Regin was the man hated to take risks he could not control. Magrane remained steadfast and calm in pointing out the flaws in Duke Falco’s plan, and the discussion ended when Ariana declared she must meet with her chancellor. Kallron did need to talk about some boring matter of state that Ariana had been dreading, but anything had to be better than being caught between two men who knew what they were talking about and loved to argue.
“Madame Chu,” General Magrane whispered as they exited the royal tent, keeping his voice down to avoid Duke Falco overhearing him. “I wonder if you could spare a few minutes of your time to speak with me?”
“Now?” Wing asked, slightly dismayed. She had much wizard business to attend to, and military matters tended to bore her.
“Yes, now,” Magrane lowered his eyelids and tilted his head to indicate the matter was important and he needed to speak privately.
“Oh, certainly.”
In Magrane’s campaign tent, the floor of which was dirt and well-matted grass rather than the carpets of the royal tent, he unrolled a map identical to the one the princess had used.
Wing let out a heavy sigh. “General, did we not just spend an hour arguing uselessly about this subject?”
“The subject, yes, but the time was not wasted.” Magrane traced a finger along the map, circling the valley the enemy had used to store mountains of supplies. According to Wing who had ‘flown’ over the area while in the spirit world, crates and sacks of grain and any number of other items vital to support a vast military force were heaped up in piles under waterproof oilcloths, all down the valley floor. The location was well-positioned to supply the two major encampments to the northeast and southeast along the River Fasse. Roads fanned out from the valley both east and west, and Wing had seen a steady stream of wagons moving east along the roads, bringing yet more vital materials from within Acedor and from vassal states to the north and west who rendered tribute to the demon. “My argument against Duke Falco’s suggestion of a raid is based on the strength of the enemy around their base of supplies, but perhaps I was hasty. Could you get more current information about the area?” Magrane asked hopefully.
“No,” Wing shook her head. “I was barely able to escape with my life the first time, enemy wizards nearly trapped me within the spirit world there,” she shivered slightly recalling her fear at the time. “Now the enemy has cast spells to prevent anyone from viewing this whole region,” she swept her hand in a wide circle far from the target valley, “through magical means. They are the same spells we use to conceal our numbers and movements from the enemy.”
“Then, unless we somehow discover the enemy has inexplicably left their major source of supply unguarded, we lack the strength to attack there. As I argued with Duke Falco, I- Damn, but that man is nearly as knowledgeable about military tactics as I am, and he is damned accustomed to getting his way in everything! As we argued, I recalled something I learned while studying maps of Acedor when I was a mere foot soldier. This valley where the enemy has stored their supplies, it is dry now but it used to be a riverbed, did it not?”
It was Wing’s turn to tilt her head. “General, I am from Ching-Do, half a world away from here. Why are you asking me about this?”
“I thought master wizards knew everything,” he replied with a wink.
“That is a great exaggeration,” she had to laugh. “However, in this case, I do know about the history of this area,” she rolled her eyes without meaning to. Lord Mwazo took his reputation as chief lore master of the Wizards Council seriously, and that included endlessly lecturing his travel companions on matters of Acedor both important and trivial. The subject raised by Magrane was something Wing had mentally categorized as trivial, and she could not imagine why the commander of the Tarador Royal Army cared about such an unimportant matter. “Yes, the river you call Lillefasse used to flow through that valley, until roughly four hundred years ago. The river flowed through a gap, here, no, here,” she jabbed a finger at the map. “There was a quake that caused a landslide, both sides of the gap fell in to block it. The river backed up to create this lake, but before it rose to the top of the dam, it found a new outflow down to the Fasse, here,” she pointed to the northeast corner of the lake. “Lord Mwazo told me the landslide was partly caused by the demon having cut or burned away all the tree cover in the area, just as the demon has despoiled and poisoned most of Acedor.”
“Yes, yes,” Magrane did not need a lecture in proper land management techniques. “the Lillefasse now flows out through this channel to the northeast, but if the dam were breached?”
“It would resume its old channel, down to the southeast,” Wing now understood why the general was interested in odd events in the history of Acedor. “General, the lake behind that dam is perhaps one hundred feet deep. Breaching that dam would cause a wave that would flood the valley below and sweep away much of the enemy’s supplies.”
“Yes it would,” Magrane grinned and Wing was reminded of the predatory smile of a wolf on the hunt.
She considered the map. The lake was far enough north of the enemy’s main camps that the Royal Army could cross the River Fasse unopposed, and march along the ‘new’ channel of the Lillefasse. A retreat could be conducted down the suddenly-dry channel to the northeast of what used to be a lake. Mountain ridges running west to east across the area would slow the enemy’s ability to counterattack, leaving at least a possibility of the Royal Army getting back across the Fasse without a major engagement. “You have a plan to breach the dam? I assume your plan does not involve ten thousand men with shovels.”
“My plan is to ask a master wizard for a plan.”
“What?” Wing’s face turned pale. “General Magrane, this is not a simple trick you are asking for.”
“I know that. I also know wizards pulled down the Gates of the Mountains, and I would not have thought that pos
sible until I saw it happen.”
Wing cringed. Why did people not blessed with magical abilities think wizardry was so simple? “Collapsing the Gates was barely possible, even for Paedris, and he is not with us.”
“Paedris told me to have full faith in your power, and he also told me that you should have faith in your own power.”
“That is easy for him to say!”
“Madame Chu, I am not asking you to move a million tons of rock and soil by yourself. For now, I am only requesting you to look at the problem, to study it.”
“Hmm,” she sniffed unhappily. “You mean you wish me to examine the area through the spirit world.”
“Can you do that?” Magrane asked in an even tone, not getting his hopes up yet.
“It may be possible,” she closed her eyes to think. The dam was well north of the area covered by the spell cast by dark wizards, but that did not mean there were no other magical hazards around the dam. She would not only need to get in and out, she would need to do so without the enemy ever knowing she had any interest in the dam or the lake behind it. The enemy was not stupid, not stupid at all, the demon would instantly understand why a wizard of Tarador wished to inspect that lake and the vulnerable dam there.
“Time is critical,” Magrane said unnecessarily.
Wing sighed, for she was already tired. “I will make the attempt tonight, for whatever it is worth. I make no promises, General!” She warned with a finger wagging to the old soldier.
Magrane made a short bow. “I promise not to question if you tell me it cannot be done. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Stop dreaming up more things for me to do?”
The general had to chuckle at that. “I will consider your request. “Thank you.”
She paused at the tent flap. “General, why did you not mention the idea of breaching the dam and flooding that valley, when we were with the princess and Duke Falco?”
“Two reasons,” Magrane paused to soothe his parched throat with a tumbler of water. “Our Regent is wise beyond her years, but she can be excitable, and I do not wish her to become,” he made a sour face, “enthused about a plan until I am certain it is practical. We do not have time to waste on plans that will never come to fruition.”
Wing nodded agreement, the general was very sensible and knew how to handle his princess. “And the other reason?”
“I do not trust Regin Falco. Madame Chu, if we proceed as we discussed, I wish no one other than the princess and a few wizards to know of our true intentions. Everyone else may believe a fairy tale about a simple raid into Acedor to cut supply lines, or something like that.”
“You do not trust him? Why? Even the princess seeks his counsel.”
“I do not trust him for any reason other than that he is a Falco,” Magrane made a cutting motion with one hand, declaring the matter closed. “The Falcos have for centuries been entirely focused on one goal; overthrowing the Trehaymes and putting a Falco on the throne of Tarador.”
“Yes,” Wing replied slowly, “Duke Falco has a plan to do that, and that plan requires Ariana living to become queen, marry Regin’s son and produce an heir. He must also ensure there is a Tarador for Ariana to rule. I do not see his motivation could be against Ariana, or Tarador.”
“On the face of it, that is true.” Magrane agreed that Regin Falco, by all appearances, would benefit most through protecting the crown princess. But, there was something Magrane found odd, off, disturbing about the duke of Burwyck. Particularly recently, the duke sometimes had a faraway expression on his face when he thought no one was looking, and more than once Magrane had caught Falco looking at the princess with pure hatred. People who knew Regin best agreed something about him had changed recently, the Duke was different, that he did surprising things, actions that were out of character. A man who could not be trusted had become unpredictable, and that alarmed General Magrane. “Madame Chu, nothing is ever as it seems with this particular Duke Falco. I knew his father, he was a first-class schemer. Regin is far more clever, devious and dangerous. Humor an old man, please, and accept that we will not tell Regin Falco of our true plans. I will think of a suitable cover story for our raid, if needed.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At the crest of the ridge, Raddick’s party was rewarded by the welcome sight of flatter ground, which drew a quiet, weary cheer from the soldiers. The land ahead of them was a wide, broad saddle between two ridges, and covered mostly with forest. Without a pause, Raddick lead the party between the trees which at first were clustered closely together and the ground littered with moss-covered logs. Going single-file, the party did the best they could to conceal their tracks, but moss slipped off rocks and logs when stepped on, and in many places there was no way between the trees without snapping dry branches. When they came to a stream, everyone drank as much as they wished and filled their water flasks quickly, with Raddick striding up the streambed where the trees did not form a barrier. Soon the trees became more sparse and the party was able to move more quickly, spurred onward by the hunting cries of orcs behind them.
“What’s the plan now?” Bjorn asked as he caught up to Raddick.
“Plan?” Raddick replied with irritation. “I am not accustomed to questions from-”
“Yes, and I am not one of your soldiers, so, what is the plan? We well and truly have the orcs chasing us, so your promise to Renhelm is fulfilled. I assume you don’t intend to take us up to the Magross fortress. I was there once, it’s a formidable bastion, but the dwarves would likely insist we remain there, and overwintering in a dwarf fortress is no way to carry out your orders. You must have another plan. Is it too much to hope that you know this secret ravine leading back down to the valley?”
“I don’t know it,” Raddick admitted. “I’ve heard rumors about a secret path up the mountain, a series of caverns and ravines the dwarves have connected with tunnels, but Renhelm wouldn’t give me even a hint.”
“I thought as much,” Bjorn stumbled over a log and Raddick steadied him from falling.
Raddick lowered his voice, relieved to have someone to unburden himself to. Bjorn Jihnsson had long experience in combat, and though he had served in the King’s Guard instead of the Royal Army, Raddick considered the man a soldier. “The truth is, I am not certain where to go next. I am not familiar with these mountains, and the orcs are pursuing us closer than I expected. If we can lose them in these woods,” he looked behind them with a frown at the trampled underbrush, broken branches, boot prints clearly outlined in mud and moss scraped off fallen logs.
“Unlikely,” Bjorn declared.
“Aye. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Not really, not anything useful, except that if we keep climbing straight up this mountain, we risk coming to a cliff we can’t climb.”
“So, left or right?”
“Left is west, toward Acedor,” Bjorn noted with a frown.
“The border is a considerable distance westward,” Raddick replied. “But I don’t like that idea. When we get up there,” he pointed through the trees to an area where the continuous forest gave way to patchy groves of trees in an open rock field, “we stick to rock where we won’t leave tracks, and we turn east.”
“You’ve been in worse spots, surely?” Bjorn asked with a ghoulish grin.
“Worse for me?” Raddick mused. “Many times. Several, at least,” he thought back, remembering moments in his life he had been almost as terrified as he was then. “Never with the future of Tarador depending on me succeeding.”
“True,” Bjorn agreed. Even when he had the sacred duty to protect the life of Tarador’s king, the existence of the kingdom had never rested on the outcome. Bjorn knew that, for he had failed, King Adric Trehayme had died in battle, and still Tarador continued.
By what Raddick judged was two hours later, he began to hope they may have escaped the orcs. By walking on mostly flat rock without stepping on shrubs or muddy ground, they party had not left obvious tracks to lead the orc
s eastward.
“Not that way,” Koren spoke suddenly, having remained mostly quiet after he answered Lem’s uncomfortable questions.
“Why?” Raddick asked in surprise. “You know these mountains?”
“No, I, I have a feeling about it.”
The hair stood up on the back of Bjorn’s neck and he came to a halt. “Is this a feeling from the spirits?”
“I don’t know. I told you, the spirits don’t talk to me. They don’t tell me anything at all. Not directly.”
“This feeling you have, it is like when you feel when to release a bowstring?”
“Sort of. Yes. Only this feels like we should not go that way, up there. It feels wrong.”
“Captain,” Bjorn said quietly, “if our young wizard has a bad feeling about-”
“I agree,” Raddick did not need additional persuasion. “We go-”
“Look!” Thomas shouted, pointing up the mountainside.
Orcs. A party of orcs had come into view on the horizon, walking along a ridge crest. As the Royal Army soldiers watched fearfully, more and more orcs became visible. Many, many more orcs.
“How did they get ahead of us?” Thomas asked in a whisper.
“They didn’t,” Lem declared. “Those are not the orcs chasing us. That’s no hunting party. That’s an army. Two hundred?” He looked toward Raddick. “Or more?”
“Yes, damn it,” the captain swore. “They must already have been on the mountain above us last night,” he speculated with a chill creeping up his spine.
“I think they don’t see us yet,” Lem slowly stepped behind a tree trunk, peering around the rough bark up at the orcs.
“They will soon,” Thomas looked around. “They’re coming down here, and we can’t stay in this little grove of trees. And we still have that hunting party tracking us.” As he spoke, there was a howl from above, an orc standing with hands cupped around its mouth, crying out to the winds. That cry was answered by a muffled howl from down the mountain behind them.
Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3) Page 28