by Hal Emerson
“Keep moving where?” Leah asked. “What strategy have you and the generals been hatching in that huge circus of a tent? And why did it involve you running at a Daemon on a suicide mission?”
“I’m not involved in much strategy,” the Prince said bitterly. “You know I’ve never been good at that … point me at a target, and I’ll tell you the best way to achieve it. But the order of a campaign, those kind of details … they’re beyond me.”
Leah just looked at him for a moment, and then slowly her face softened, just the barest fraction. He looked away, smiling and nodding to another group of Kindred who were passing him, looks of awe on their faces. Once they were gone, he turned back to her and spoke before he could stop himself.
“I need you,” he said honestly, with candid sincerity. “I need you and Tomaz both. You’re the brains, he’s the wisdom, I’m just the detail in between. I can’t do all three jobs … I can try, but I know this won’t go well. It’s always been this way, no matter how many lessons Rikard and Geofred tried to beat into my head … I do tactics, not strategy.”
“What’s the difference?” She asked, looking confused.
“I can tell you, after reading the supply list over just the one time, how many sword, spears, arrows, and other weapons we have at out immediate disposal,” he said. “I know how long each of those quantities will last. I know how long we could put siege to a fortress. I know how long it would take for our army to cross given terrain, I know how the best place for us to face an Imperial army would be in wooded hills, and given a specific setting and terrain, I know how to completely crush an enemy force. I know how to both defend and attack a fixed position. I know how many troops we have in what capacity, and I know how long they can last before we’ll need to fall back in retreat.
“That,” he said, “is tactics. But I am terrible at choosing the field of battle. I don’t know which objective is the most important – do we secure our supply lines or do we devote troops to a heavy march hoping to shock the first army we come upon? Do we invade north, or do we divide our forces? Is the element of surprise worth giving up if we take the time to secure a fortified position? That’s strategy, and I’m no general, I never have been. I’m just a – a –”
“Battle Commander,” she said slowly.
He looked at her, and saw that she hadn’t said the title with any kind of heat to it – if anything, she had said it as if it were some kind of honor not usually bestowed.
“That might be more useful than a General, given the right circumstances,” she mused, eyes now far off in the distance, thinking. His heart lurched into a faster rhythm, beating quickly. He stayed silent, watching her, barely daring to hope that she might share a plan with him. But then her eyes focused on the present again, and she shook her head, dismissing whatever she’d just thought of as foolishness.
“Leah,” the Prince said quickly. “There’s an answer here that I’m not seeing. Perci wants to go to Tibour, and Oleander is supporting him. Ishmael says nothing, Spader just makes quips, and the other generals are next to useless, they’re scared to death of invading the Empire and can only think of safe ways to retreat.”
“Why don’t you want to go to Tibour?” Leah asked quietly, her eyes suddenly studying him very closely.
“None of the details work out!” He said, exasperated. They were still at the edge of camp, and though the crowd was gone, he worried suddenly that they would be overheard. He motioned with his head toward the camp, and Leah, taking the Prince’s lead, began to walk with him into the long rows of tents. She didn’t walk easily next to him, but instead seemed to withdraw, walking further away from him than she’d used to. Well, at least she was walking in the same direction.
“What details?” Leah asked, continuing the conversation.
“Tibour is a veritable desert,” the Prince said, rattling off facts, “it’s total area is hundreds of square miles, stretching nearly half the length of the Empire, and none of it is arable, meaning there are no crops, just weed-grass for miles and miles on end, which bleeds into desert. What food there is is grown in the city itself, and the population is carefully controlled by Dysuna so that there is just enough for all the Commons with no extra left over. The palace itself is near impregnable – we’ll lose at least three battalions worth of men sitting outside the damn thing waiting –”
“So it’s a colossal waste of our resources, and likely a death trap,” Leah summed up quickly.
The Prince felt a huge swell of relief and sudden vindication.
“Exactly! I just don’t know where else to go! North makes sense, but only because that’s the only other choice we have right now. I keep coming at this from every angle, and the only thing I’m sure of is that there is no possible way to make an invasion work if we strike Tibour first.”
“Then abandon it,” Leah said abruptly. “Go somewhere else.”
“Where else would we go?” The Prince asked, watching her closely. Her eyes were looking off into the distance again, and he held his breath. It looked as though she was examining the landscape, but he knew that she was somewhere else entirely, somewhere deep inside her mind, looking at maps, calculating, piecing things together.
“East is out, that’s just swamp and coastline until we get farther north … South is retreat, but the mountains are no use to us as ambush sights, they’re too spread out and the Empire can hold us there as they go through the pass … the north is hemmed in by Tyne on the east coast and Formaux on the west, though …”
She stopped speaking, and a look passed over her face that made the Prince’s mouth go strangely dry; he knew that look. It was the same look she’d had the first time he’d met her, when she’d launched the plan that had ended with him, her and Tomaz crossing the Empire in a successful two-month-long journey back to the lands of the Kindred.
“We go for Banelyn,” she said.
She looked at him and, for the first time in what felt like years, she smiled.
“Okay,” he said immediately.
A beat of time passed, and what she’d said sunk in.
“Wait … really?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Think about it – we pass Tibour, cut deep into the heart of the Empire, and upset the economic center of the nation. Spring has just arrived, crops are low from winter storage – we weaken the entire Empire by disrupting trade, we manage to gain a stronghold nestled in the Elmist mountain range that extends for miles both north and south and into which we can easily retreat for ambush if necessary, we –”
“What about Dysuna?” Asked the Prince.
“She’s waiting for us in Tibour, right?”
“It looks that way – we’re being led right toward her.”
“Then if we go now for Banelyn, there is nothing stopping us. You just cleared a Daemon out of the path that will take us to the Imperial Road – we can make it to Banelyn via that road in two weeks with a forced march.”
She fell silent and they stood looking at each other for a long moment, both breathing heavily. And then, as one, they took off running through the camp, heading for the War Council.
“Oy!” Roared the voice of Tomaz, his huge shape coming toward them. “What’s all this about you killing a Daemon without me?”
“Great story,” Leah said, “he’ll tell it later. Come with us.”
“Right,” Tomaz rumbled, not even the least perturbed by Leah’s abrupt words. “Where are we going?”
“The circus,” she said.
“Command tent,” the Prince amended.
“Same thing,” Leah and Tomaz said together.
“Your disrespect for proper authority cofounds me.”
“If it was really proper,” Leah noted, “you wouldn’t have had to come to me for battle planning.”
“The point remains,” the Prince said, obstinate.
“Well I hope you change your mind,” she said, “we’re going to have to argue and browbeat some of the Generals into following this plan
, I can almost guarantee that. All right, here we are.”
They were outside the command tent. How they’d arrive there so quickly, the Prince really couldn’t say; time seemed to be slipping and starting around him due to the lives he’d absorbed. He took a deep breath, readying himself for the confrontation about to take place.
“Well,” she said, “shall we?”
“Shouldn’t we fill in Tomaz?” He asked.
The giant leaned forward and rumbled quickly: “Revised battle plans, they won’t like it, you two are back on speaking terms. Did I miss anything?”
“I guess not,” admitted the Prince.
“Then what’re we waiting for?”
“A miracle,” he sighed.
“You’ve got us,” rumbled the giant, now calmly munching on an apple he’d gotten from somewhere. “Hasn’t that been enough so far?”
They ducked into the tent, and saw that the generals were still gathered, and they were once again discussing the plans to invade Tibour. They turned to look at him and froze, looks of fear and awe crossing their faces. Henri Perci stood at the back of the tent, and looked to be the only one who didn’t care about what had just happened.
“Well,” the Prince said, “glad to know I’m such an integral part of the process.”
“You’re back,” Henri Perci said, sounding less than thrilled.
“And he brought friends!” Rumbled Tomaz cheerfully.
“What are the two of you doing here?” Elder Ishmael asked. The Prince turned to see him, Elder Spader, and Elder Keri enter the tent, all looking flushed. Keri gave him a quick up and down, and while she seemed content with that for now, her look implied he would get a thorough going-over once the meeting was done. The Prince swallowed nervously and focused instead on Ishmael, who was regarding Tomaz and Leah with a disapproving eye. The Prince realized that, as head of the Rangers and Rogues, they technically reported to him before they did the Prince. He desperately hoped the Elder didn’t command them to leave before they laid out the plan.
“The princeling told us you’re having some disputes over campaign strategy,” said Leah.
“He is the Prince of the Veil, and you will treat him with respect,” said Commander Wyck, the General in command of the infantry forces.
“Right,” Leah said, “the princeling of the Veil asked us for help. We’re here to tell you what to do.”
“By the Light, you need to learn tact woman,” the Prince sighed wearily. “What she means to say is that she’s helped me see an opportunity that I hadn’t considered. We shouldn’t be going for Tibour – we should attack Banelyn.”
There was a small moment of silence.
“First he kills a Daemon, now he wants to take Banelyn,” Spader said. “This is the most fun I’ve had in sixty-nine years.”
And then everyone in the command tent was speaking at once. Henri Perci was spouting off about the honor of a clean battle versus a gimmick that would lead to a massacre, Oleander was talking about the high unlikelihood of success, and Commander Wyck was going off about, of all things, Leah not using the proper title of address for the Prince.
But Elders Spader, Keri and Ishmael didn’t speak a word; they went immediately to the map table and began examining the charts and papers laid out before them. One by one they began nodding to each other.
“SILENCE!” Tomaz roared, his voice cracking out at them like a whip of thunder. “This is the command tent of the Generals of the Kindred Army, not a group of fledgling infants just back from their first forest outing! Remember yourselves and where you are!”
Immediately, like chastised children, the Generals fell quiet and even Henri Perci looked slightly embarrassed at his outburst. It didn’t, however, prevent the tall warrior from speaking:
“Explain yourself,” he growled.
Spader cleared his throat at the back of the tent and pointedly raised an eyebrow.
“My Prince,” Perci finished, looking as if he’d rather have swallowed glass than utter those two words.
“Leah?” The Prince asked, extending a hand and praying with all that was left in him that she wouldn’t insult anyone too badly in the next few minutes.
“Gather around the maps,” she said, taking the floor and striding forward.
The Elders nodded and opened up a space for her, watching with interest. The Generals, from Herni Perci who looked outraged at this breach of protocol to Commander Wyck who looked as if he may be interested against his better wishes, said nothing. How could they? If this didn’t bother the Elders, how could they reasonably object before hearing her out?
“From what the Prince has told me,” Leah began, gesturing to the pages of notes in Henri Perci’s bold hand, “you’re trying to invade the Empire by going through Tibour.”
“It is the logical course,” said General Gates, one of the older, more conservative generals. The Prince had a feeling he was the perfect man for defending a fortified position, and was, in fact, one of the men who had engineered the defense at the Stand – but the problem was he treated every battle as if he was in a fortified position, which would be disastrous in the open field.
“If we take the city,” Gates continued, “then we have a position we can fortify and hold. From there, we can launch further attacks into the Empire, going both east and west as well as north.”
“And from Tibour,” Perci continued, “we can strike at Tyne, while our force is still fresh and the surprise is still new.”
“You think the Kindred will be fresh after a prolonged siege?” Leah asked, eyeing the man with, if it was possible, an even lower opinion than she’d already had. “The Prince of Wolves only has to sit in her desert palace and wait for us. We, on the other hand, will have marched for weeks by the time we arrive at her gates. No doubt once we do reach her palace, word will have been sent with one or more runners to the other Children, the Prince of Lions chief among them. The city will not fall without serious loss of life, or a long standing campaign that could take months.”
“You summoned me General?” Asked a voice behind them.
They turned and saw Autmaran striding into the tent in his customary red uniform, now complete with the battle armor of an army Commander.
“What are you doing here?” Henri Perci asked bluntly, only barely concealing the edge of his anger. Ever since Autmaran had succeeded in nominating the Prince to his office, Henri Perci had extended his hatred to the dark skinned Commander.
“General Dunhold sent for me,” he said, nodding to the final member of the council of Generals, a tall man with thick gray-black hair, thin as a blade, who was a master of battlefield tactics in his own right. Unfortunately, like the Prince, he was not intent on campaign planning and strategy, and had also called for a retreat to the mountains of Roarke, where his experience as an ambusher would be of most value.
“And why would he do that?” Perci said, shooting a venomous look at the General.
“Commander Autmaran has had the most current experience of us all fighting the Imperial forces in the field,” Dunhold said, bristling at the malice in Perci’s stare. “Between the retreat to the Stand, the Pass of Cartuom, and the aftermath of Roarke, I think he’s proven himself a valuable asset. It had seemed we were at an impasse – besides, he is now Commander of the Scouts, both light infantry and cavalry. I felt he should be involved.”
“It seems quite logical to me,” said Elder Spader, with his dry, sardonic tone of voice. He turned to Perci, mocking him with a simple look. “Unless you object to logic now. I wouldn’t put it past you, you object to everything else.”
“May I ask why Majors Leah and Tomaz are present?” Autmaran interrupted smoothly, coming into the tent and approaching the table, standing next to Commander Wyck.
“They are here at the invitation of the Prince of the Veil,” Ishmael said smoothly, quickly steering the conversation away from the more dangerous waters that Spader had headed it towards.
“We were just discussing a possi
ble alternative to the planned invasion of Tibour,” the Prince said, seamlessly following Ishmael and continuing the conversation, forestalling Perci once more from speaking.
“Invasion of Tibour?” Autmaran asked, looking around him. “I do not know if such an attack would be advisable.”
“Indeed,” Leah said, taking her cue, “which is why we should head for Banelyn; it is the most logical option.”
“Banelyn is the center of the Empire’s economy,” Autmaran said immediately, though Herni Perci looked so apoplectic at the continuous stream of conversation that the Prince was surprised he hadn’t exploded in sheer frustration. Autmaran, however, either didn’t notice or was pretending not to. He bent over the maps as he continued:
“It is also central to the Empire and away from any of their major forces.”