Storms of Destiny

by A. C. Crispin

  Jezzil stood looking into the ravine. It was fairly deep and quite narrow, scarcely more than half a musket shot across.

  As he peered over the edge, he could see the blue thread of a stream at the bottom. The sides, as Eregard had said, were steep and rocky, studded with clumps of tough grass and twisted scrub oak. “See? I told you,” Eregard said. “Too steep to climb.”

  “I could climb it,” Jezzil said absently.

  Eregard gave him a look, half amused, half exasperated.

  “Oh, of that I have no doubt. You could probably turn invisible and fly up it, with all the wizard tricks Khith has been teaching you.”

  Jezzil felt his face grow warm. “I didn’t mean it like that.

  And I certainly can’t fly.” Abruptly, he grinned, seeing the humor in it. “If I could, that would make things much easier, wouldn’t it?”

  Eregard chuckled. “Without a doubt.” He looked back down at the precarious slope. “Well, I suppose I could climb it, too, given enough time and maybe some rope. But there’s no way it could be used to mount a flank attack.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Jezzil said, serious once more.

  “If you used knotted lanyard attached to embedded stakes to make guide ropes, and cut away the brush blocking the secure footholds, well …” He shrugged. “The Pen Jav Dal specialize in this kind of operation. When I was in the seminary, we were taught to scale fortress walls, rock cliffs, ice cliffs, and forest giants.” Squatting down, he tossed a fist-sized rock over the side. They could barely hear the splash it made. “How far does this ravine run?”

  Eregard looked west, toward Minoma. “In this direction, not too much farther. It gets shallower and shallower as it runs downhill, until there’s just the stream left. The stream joins into the Min River, which empties into the sea, north of Minoma.”

  “And heading east?”

  “It runs all the way up into the mountains, where it becomes a deep gorge,” Eregard pointed to the mountains before them.

  “Parallel to where the Chonao lines will be,” Jezzil said.

  “I suppose so,” Eregard said. “But the higher it gets, the deeper. Where it begins in the mountains it’s called Carsini Gorge. My father named it after old Duke Carsini, who commanded the Royal Fleet for decades. There’s a big wa-terfall at its head, though it mostly dries up in summer.”

  Jezzil stood up, gazing at the northern mountains. “This gorge … it can’t be crossed?”

  “Not unless you’re a goat,” Eregard said.

  Behind them one of the horses snorted. Jezzil turned back to Falar. “I’ve seen what I needed to see. Let’s look at the other side.”

  They rode back to their vantage point in the middle of the pass, near the road.

  “If there’s no crossing Carsini Gorge, then the mountains on the northern side of the pass are blocked,” Jezzil said.

  “What about to the south?” He turned in his saddle to look to

  his right. Falar shifted her weight beneath him, pawed restlessly for a moment, then quieted when he spoke a soft order.

  “There are trails all through those southern foothills that run parallel to the pass,” Eregard said. “Shepherds use the alpine fields for summer grazing, and some of the farmers terrace the land up there to grow ruta roots. Lots of trails.

  Most of them join together, eventually, and run down, past this point, where they come out of the forest into the western part of the pass”—Eregard turned around to point—“almost a mile back that way.”

  Jezzil nodded thoughtfully. “Noted. Could be a problem.”

  As they turned to ride back to Minoma, Eregard said, “Did anyone mention to you that there is to be a welcome home feast in my honor tonight?”

  “Princess Ulandra told us about it this morning when we broke our fast with her,” Jezzil replied. “She said you were with your father.”

  “Yes. Well, it won’t be very festive, because we’re all in mourning, but you should plan to attend,” Eregard said.

  “Pelanese chefs are rightly famous the world over.”

  “I will be there,” Jezzil said.

  They rode in silence for a while, then Jezzil spoke again.

  “Eregard, when last we spoke, the night before the Pride was taken, you said you were going to ask Thia to marry you. Did you?”

  He’d been watching Thia for days now, on the Sea Eagle and here in Pela, but she hadn’t seemed to act any different toward the Prince. And surely she would have if she’d agreed to be his wife, wouldn’t she? On the other hand, Jezzil had been shocked to discover that Thia had acting talents he’d never expected. Her “performance” before Barus had been memorable.

  He turned in his saddle, watching Eregard, waiting for his answer, and realized he was holding his breath. He forced himself to exhale.

  Eregard reached over and rearranged a wayward lock of his mount’s mane, not meeting Jezzil’s eyes. “Yes.”

  The Chonao searched Eregard’s face, realizing that Eregard didn’t look like a man who was happily affianced. Relief flooded him, followed immediately by a stab of guilt. Eregard was his friend. It was unworthy to feel joyful when his friend was obviously unhappy. But he couldn’t help himself.

  “She said no,” Eregard added after a long pause.

  “Oh,” Jezzil said. “Did you ask her why?”

  “I did,” the Prince said. “She told me she was very fond of me—that’s the word she used, fond—but that she couldn’t marry anyone because she had sworn to remain celibate.”

  Jezzil blinked. “But she’s not a priestess any more.”

  “I pointed that out. She said a vow was a vow. Frankly, she wasn’t making a lot of sense, but I could tell she was distressed by the subject, so I dropped it.” He shrugged. “She also pointed out that I’m not in love with her, that I love someone else. I’d have denied it,” his mouth twisted wryly, “but this was Thia I was talking to.”

  “You love someone else,” Jezzil said, making it a statement.

  He hadn’t given the matter a moment’s thought until now.

  The Prince shrugged, then gave Jezzil a sideways glance.

  “I try not to give myself away, but I guess anyone who knows me well can tell. I’d hoped that time would help, but the moment I saw Ulandra, there it was all over again. The only woman I love is the one I can never have.”

  He loves Ulandra? Jezzil nodded as though he’d known all along. “She’s very pretty.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Eregard said. “But I don’t dare treat her as other than a sister. If Salesin knew how I felt he’d use that knowledge against me. He enjoys playing games with people.

  One of the court gossips took me aside this morning and told me that Ulandra’s waiting women have said that she is often bruised, and that he goes out of his way to humiliate her.

  Curse my brother!” He straightened in his saddle, staring straight ahead, and his voice was low and bitter. “Last night I prayed that he’d be killed in the battle. My own brother!”

  “He hurts her? Why?” Jezzil asked. “She seems so quiet, such a good wife. Surely she hasn’t been unfaithful?”

  “Of course not,” Eregard said. “She’s a sweet, decent girl.

  But she hasn’t shown any signs of producing an heir to the throne. Knowing my brother, he would take that as a personal affront.”

  Eregard sighed. “It’s just as well Thia refused me. She’s as innocent as Ulandra, and even more inexperienced in courtly life. If she were to become my wife, she’d become a target for Salesin’s plots. Thia is intelligent, but she doesn’t know how to be devious.”

  “Is that all?” Jezzil said. Something in Eregard’s voice told him it wasn’t.

  “No,” the Prince admitted. “Something else happened …” He trailed off, staring straight ahead.

  “Between you and Thia?”

  “No,” Eregard said, a faint edge in his voice. “Nothing to do with Thia or Ulandra.” When Jezzil glanced at him curiously, he
added, curtly, “Nothing I can talk about, either.”

  “Oh,” Jezzil said.

  Eregard gave him an ironic look. “Curse it, why do things between men and women have to be so bedamned complicated?”

  “I don’t know,” Jezzil said. “I haven’t been around women long enough to be able to figure out how they think, what they want.”

  Eregard laughed hollowly. “Jezzil, my friend, welcome to the world. I haven’t yet met a man who has figured that out.”

  When they reached Minoma again, Eregard took Jezzil to the target range, where they both practiced using muskets with the newly rifled barrels that used the new, conical bullets. Jezzil was awed by the range and accuracy of the weapons. “Imagine every soldier of the line having one of these!” he marveled, stroking the weapon. “Able to fire as fast as a smoothbore, but with the range and accuracy of a rifle. My people have used rifles for hunting and assassin’s weapons, but we have nothing like these.”

  “They say the royal gunsmithing shops have been working for months, producing them,” Eregard said. “Almost all of the military here at home is equipped with them.”

  “These weapons will make the traditional Chonao cavalry charge impossible,” Jezzil mused. “Kerezau will probably try to compensate for that by using flank attacks. He’s a master strategist, and he’s trained his leaders well.”

  “Speaking of leaders,” Eregard said, glancing at the westering Sun, “it is almost time for the strategy briefing my brother mentioned. We are both expected to attend.”

  The briefing was held on the top floor of the officers’ barracks. Eregard and Jezzil, still escorted by the silent guardsmen, climbed the stairs and went into the large room. It was long, with a fireplace at one end. A portrait of Agivir, wearing full military regalia, hung over the mantel. Maps of every Pelanese province and colony, plus the surrounding lands, covered the walls, interspersed with portraits of famous Pelanese military heroes. A long, long battered table stood in the center of the room, with quills and parchment placed before each seat. Eregard indicated a seat, and Jezzil sat down, just as the Prince was surrounded by well-wishers.

  As Eregard exchanged greetings with the officers who crowded around him, Prince Salesin entered the room. The Crown Prince glanced over at his brother and the assembled officers, obviously not pleased by the attention his younger brother was receiving. He strode to the front of the room, then cleared his throat loudly.

  The officers quickly dispersed, bowing to the Crown Prince as they scattered to their seats. Jezzil studied Salesin covertly, noticing that the Crown Prince was in full, formal uniform, ceremonial sword at his side. This was in contrast to Eregard and most of the other officers, who wore field uniform.

  Salesin made a show of looking at the ornate clock that hung on the wall. The appointed time for the meeting had arrived. Eregard’s brother began pacing the room, moving like a large, feral animal. Jezzil was reminded of the moorland cats that preyed upon Chonao herds. After a few moments of pacing, the Crown Prince halted, then addressed Eregard with a scowl. “Where, pray tell, is our father, brother? Must I once again assume his duty?”

  Eregard flushed, but before he could reply, the door to the meeting room opened and a servant hurried in. Bowing

  hastily to Salesin, he said, “His Majesty bids you begin without him, Your Highness.”

  “Where is he?” Salesin snapped.

  The servant was too well schooled to react, but Jezzil, trained to watch an enemy’s reactions minutely, saw him tense. He bowed again. “He is meeting with the bishop about the Queen’s lying-in-state and funeral. He bade me tell you that he will come if he can.”

  Salesin’s eyes narrowed and he nodded curtly, waving dismissal. “Very well. Once again it falls to me to lead our country in my father’s absence.”

  Jezzil glanced at Eregard, seeing the Prince’s eyes narrow with anger.

  Salesin strode to the ornate head chair, then stood behind it, his hands grasping the golden crown that adorned the back.

  Addressing the assembled officers, he began. “Intelligence reports indicate that the Meptalith fleet carrying the Chonao forces has regrouped after the storm that dispersed them. Reports from Captain Stroma of the RNS Sea Eagle and other naval commanders indicate that the storm claimed several dozen ships. Even so, nearly four hundred vessels have made port on our northern shore. This morning we received a carrier hawk with a message from Prince Adranan, who is leading a scouting mission in the North. Gen has fallen to the enemy.”

  A soft murmur of consternation ran through the room.

  “Prince Adranan estimates the troop strength of Kerezau’s force to be approximately twenty thousand infantry and nearly nine thousand cavalry.”

  The Pelanese are outnumbered, Jezzil realized. His tour today had indicated that Pela’s infantry numbered about fifteen thousand and no more than three thousand cavalry.

  Salesin went on to summarize recent events: Eregard’s return, a mention of which provinces had sent troops, reports from naval vessels that had engaged and sunk several of the Redai’s troop transports that had been blown off course by the storm. He concluded by introducing Jezzil as a Chonao “consultant” familiar with the enemy’s battle tactics.

  As one man, the high-ranking officers seated around the table turned to look at Jezzil. It was all he could do not to drop his eyes and sink down in his seat under the force of their regard. Eregard looked at him and nodded encouragingly, and that helped.

  As the meeting progressed, Jezzil’s mind was busy, filing away facts and figures. As many as three hundred fifty Chonao ships confirmed. That’s a large force they landed.

  Ten thousand cavalry, twenty thousand infantry …

  The Pelanese were significantly outnumbered. But they have those guns with the rifled barrels. They can shoot more than twice as far as an ordinary musket … will that even the odds?

  He watched as Salesin unrolled a map of Ombal Pass, showing the surrounding foothills and mountains. As Eregard had guessed, the Pelanese forces would be divided into three brigades of infantry, with cavalry held back, along with the infantry reserves. Each brigade would be under the command of one of the royals, Salesin declared. Crown Prince Salesin would command the left flank, King Agivir the center, and Prince Adranan the right flank.

  The King has not shared his decision with his heir, then, Jezzil thought, remembering what Eregard had told him earlier. I will ask to ride with Eregard, he decided. His fighting skills are not what they should be, though they have improved. I will guard his back. Perhaps Talis will ride with me. From what he’d seen of the Pelanese army, women were a minority of the force, but they did serve. Most female Pelanese soldiers were ex-mercenaries, specialists in artillery, sharpshooting, scouting, or intelligence gathering.

  Talis would qualify.

  He listened as Salesin summarized the battle plan, the number of cannon, how much ammunition, how many reserves would be held back, information that could mean victory or defeat. Pela might be outnumbered, but they definitely had the advantage when it came to munitions.

  As Salesin finished his summary, the Crown Prince glanced over at Jezzil, fixing his dark gaze on the Chonao.

  “And at this time, I would like to ask our Chonao consultant if he has comments to make on our battle plan?”

  Jezzil froze for a second, then when Eregard nudged him, he rose to his feet and bowed. “Your Highness, only two. If I may?” he indicated the map of Ombal Pass, and the Prince nodded permission for him to approach.

  Stepping up to the map, Jezzil pointed to the foothills on the southern side of the pass. “Your Highness, flank attacks from unexpected quarters are one of Kerezau’s most favored strategies. Prince Eregard tells me that there are trails throughout these foothills that would allow a company led by a cohort of the Pen Jav Dal—Kerezau’s reconnaissance, infiltration, and assassination experts—to bypass your army and attack your southern flank. I would recommend that you station several companies here,�
�� he touched the map, “to block any such attack. This in addition to blocking all of the trails wide enough to admit a mounted force by means of deadfalls, abatis, and the like.”

  Salesin nodded. “Our engineers are in those foothills as we speak, creating exactly those obstacles you mention, plus others.”

  “And you will station a reserve force to prevent any flank attack?”

  Salesin’s eyes narrowed. “With the trails blocked, there will be no need to deploy soldiers to guard a few sheep trails.”

  Jezzil opened his mouth to protest, only to trail off as Salesin’s features hardened. He nodded instead. “Of course, Your Highness. As to my other concern …” He hesitated, determined to choose his words carefully.

  “Yes?” Salesin was clearly growing impatient.

  “This ravine here,” Jezzil said, pointing to it. “It concerns me. It is deep enough that a regiment of Chonao could make their way down it in relative secrecy, even in the heat of battle. Then, if that force scaled the sides of the gully behind your front lines, it would be another way for the enemy to flank you.”

  Salesin waved a hand dismissively. “Obviously, you have not seen that ravine. It is far too steep to be scaled by any significant amount of troops.”

  Jezzil wet his lips, remembering long days—and nights— spent in training from boyhood. Climbing that ravine and anchoring rope guidelines so infantry could go up the side would be child’s play for the Silent Ones. Seeing Salesin’s expression, he realized he would be wise to say no more.

  But he found himself speaking anyway. “Your Highness, the Pen Jav Dal are trained in climbing. Securing posts and attaching rope guidelines that would enable troops to scale this ravine quickly, in great numbers, is part of their training.”

  “I have heard of these so-called Silent Ones,” Salesin said, smiling slightly, as if Jezzil were a child that had tried to take part in an adult conversation. “They are regarded with superstitious terror by their own countrymen, which doubtless acts to their advantage. Tales abound of them being able to fly, vanish like ghosts, or walk up walls like flies in summer. But we are talking real battle here, not tales to dominate peasants and children. Thank you for your concern. I shall consider what you have said.”