Death-Bringer

by Patrick Tilley

  But this part of the plan had also misfired. As the D’Troit war council hastily rejigged their general plan of attack a breathless messenger despatched by the San’Louis arrived from the lines. In the mist-shrouded pre-dawn twilight the cooking fires of the She-Kargo faction had been seen burning with shadowy figures seated or sleeping beside them. At the boundary between the M’Waukee lines and the San’Louis and the C’Natti and San’Paul, everything had seemed perfectly normal. It was only some time after the last of the warriors slipped away to join their companions on the sand-bar that the ruse was uncovered.

  The lines occupied by the She-Kargo faction were empty. The seated figures were made of hooded cloaks hung on a framework of sticks, the sleepers were rolled straw mats stuffed with grass. Everything of value, all the trade goods and chattels brought by the She-Kargo, M’Waukee and San’Paul delegations had been quietly carried away by baggage-handlers during the night. But they had not vanished without trace. An examination of the ground revealed tracks leading away from the campsite towards the western shore of the lagoon.

  Even though they were doomed to fail, the She-Kargo’s efforts to avoid defeat were impressive. Prime-Cut unrolled the map given to him by one of the Iron Masters’ agents on Lake Mi-Shiga and after a few minutes’ intensive study the enemy’s intentions became abundantly clear. If forced to give ground, the main force of the She-Kargo would retreat across the shallow channel onto the upper sand-bar in an attempt to seek refuge on the higher ground beyond. The steep bluffs would form a good line of defence against a frontal assault but it could be quickly turned from the west. Prime-Cut also discerned the tactic underlying the midnight retreat of the baggage trains along the western side of the lagoon. The She-Kargo faction were obviously reluctant to abandon their valuable merchandise but, more importantly, they intended to put a considerable body of men across the first fording point on the river estuary and hold the northern shore to prevent a pursuing force from crossing over and blocking the exit from the upper sandbar.

  Further examination of the map revealed a second fording point across the estuary, some three miles further west. This would provide an alternative route if the first was denied to them. There was also another point from which an attack could be launched: a spur of land on the western shore of the lagoon came to within four hundred paces of the channel separating the upper and lower sandbar. If bowmen were stationed on the point of the spur they could fire into the left flank of the retreating column while the advancing D’Troit cut their way through from the rear.

  At the urging of Prime-Cut and Judas-Priest the war council quickly agreed to split its forces. The D’Troit delegations would remain on the beach ready to move along the sandbar against the main force of She-Kargo and M’Waukee warriors. The C’Natti would despatch a strong force of bowmen onto the spur; the remainder of its warriors would follow the route taken by the fleeing baggage trains and its escort – believed to be the weakling San’Paul stiffened by elements from the two stronger bloodlines. The C’Natti warriors were to destroy everything in their path, seize the first fording point then wheel right onto the upper sandbar, trapping what was left of the She-Kargo and M’Waukee.

  Result – total annihilation.

  Prime-Cut rubbed his hands jubilantly as the runners departed with the movement orders – orders that were to be put into effect immediately.

  Easier said than done. As the She-Kargo faction had already discovered, organizing the movement of thousands of combatants and their assembly into coherent formations is extremely difficult without a proper chain of command – especially when the orders are conveyed down the line by word of mouth. And it was an even bigger problem for the D’Troit faction because they had three times as many warriors to deal with.

  All of which meant that the orders to the C’Natti to leave the beach and move off along the western side of the lagoon took some while to get through to the various delegations. The cloying mist slowed the process even further and the planned manoeuvre almost fell apart when several groups of warriors, anxious to get into the fray, rushed off – mostly in the wrong direction – without waiting to hear what exactly it was they were required to do.

  Prime-Cut cursed and fretted at the delay and silently berated himself for making what he now realized was a serious tactical blunder. The enlarged D’Troit and C’Natti delegations had appeared at the trading post too soon. Instead of arriving over the two previous days, the extra delegates and ‘journey-men’ should have delayed their appearance – joining their clansmen in the hours just before dawn.

  Had they done that, the She-Kargo faction would, as always, have outnumbered the D’Troit. His verbal attack on Mr Snow might have caused them some disquiet but they would not have felt threatened. Secure in their strength, they would have gone to bed, slept soundly – and woken up to find themselves hopelessly outnumbered, with no time to make a coordinated plan to defend themselves.

  On the other hand …

  Prime-Cut angrily drove these last-minute regrets from his mind. What was done was done. The battle would be harder but that would only make the winning of it more worthwhile. Death, if it was to have any meaning, should be a memorable occasion.

  As dawn broke the situation changed rapidly. The warming rays of the rising sun burnt away the blanket of mist revealing the disposition of the opposing forces along the shore. And as the sun lifted clear of the eastern horizon, the wheel-boats of the Iron Masters came into view. But this time, the flotilla consisted of five vessels instead of the usual three.

  Mr Snow and the other wordsmiths heading the She-Kargo faction did not know that the two extra wheel-boats had been leased by the Ko-Nikka and Se-Iko families. To them, the approaching vessels meant only one thing; the Yama-Shita had come back in strength – and that spelled trouble.

  Steaming in V-formation, with smoke belching from their twin funnels, the five wheel-boats headed towards the trading post, their stern-mounted paddles churning the blue sun-struck water into wide swirling ribbons of green and white foam. The relentless thump-thump-thump of their engines, the boom-pound-boom of the revolving blades plunging into the water which then cascaded noisily and by the ton off the rising blades, merged into one endless barrage of sound, a continuous roll of thunder that reached out across the vast expanse of the lake, striking terror in the hearts of those who stood watching and waiting on the shore.

  Sky and earth-thunder were sounds which triggered a primal fear within a Mute’s soul. Within the folk-memory of their race, passed down through the generations like their warped genetic code, it recalled the terror inspired by the unbearable brilliance of The War of a Thousand Suns when the earth and sky was riven by fire.

  Oshio Shinoda, supreme commander of the punitive expedition despatched by the Yama-Shita family, stood on the bridge of the leading vessel next to its captain, Kato Yukinagi. Both men had polished brass telescopes trained on the approaching shore.

  On their rear starboard quarter was the boat crewed by the Ko-Nikka. The Se-Iko boat lay to port. These, in turn, were flanked by the two other boats belonging to the Yama-Shita. Their commanders also had telescopes trained on the crowded shore, and outside the wheel-house of each ship stood a flag-officer and his men, ready to relay messages to and from the expedition’s commander.

  On its last visit to the trading post, Yukinagi’s vessel – its huge black superstructure relieved with red and gold trim – had carried Domain-Lord Hirohito and Clearwater to their secret meeting with Mr Snow. This time, the elegantly appointed stateroom occupied by the late lamented domain-lord had been left empty, a shrine to his memory, with flowers and various other prayer offerings placed before the dais on which he sat when giving audience. And it would remain so until his death had been well and truly avenged.

  With the aid of his powerful spyglass, Samurai-General Shinoda was just able to identify the different bloodlines. The She-Kargo, and M’Waukee were grouped together on the right hand side of the beach. The D’Troit and Sa
n’Louis were ranged in the centre and to his left. Normally, the Mutes gathered in one huge throng in front of the trading post, but now, the centre of gravity had shifted noticeably to the right, with the She-Kargo and M’Waukee spread out quite thinly along the lower sand-bar.

  This was not what Shinoda had expected to find. The plan had been for the She-Kargo to be separated from the M’Waukee and sandwiched between the C’Natti and D’Troit. But there was no sign of the C’Natti, or for that matter, the San’Paul. Something must have happened to cause the original plan to go awry. Something drastic – like the She-Kargo discovering what lay in store for them. If that was so, then the vital element of surprise had been lost.

  Samurai-General Shinoda consulted the map spread out on the navigator’s table and conferred with the wheel-boat’s captain, Kato Yukinagi. The channel separating the upper and lower sand-bars was now a shallow fording point. It would slow down any force retreating towards the northern shore but it would not prevent them from doing so. Using the powerful spyglass mounted on a gleaming brass pillar outside the wheel-house, he slowly scanned the long upper sand-bar that ran away to starboard. It was completely deserted, but when he focused on the escarpment that dominated the northern shore he glimpsed figures moving about on top. Figures that seemed to be trying to conceal their presence.

  After Captain Yukinagi had taken a look through the spyglass and confirmed his suspicions, Shinoda made a careful survey of the escarpment and spotted several lines of men – they could only be Mutes – hauling baggage up the steep slope west of the sand-bar. Their distance from his ship made it impossible to tell which group they belonged to but they had no reason to be there. If they had come to trade, they should be on the beach. On the other hand, if they intended to join those already on top and cover the retreat of the She-Kargo they were heading in the right direction.

  Shinoda was only guessing at their intentions. The distant figures might be the missing C’Natti moving to cut off the She-Kargo but in that case why were they humping back packs? He could not afford to take any chances. After the sinking of the wheel-boat on Lake Mi-shiga, everyone in the expedition knew that further failure would not be tolerated. As a precautionary measure he decided to land some of his men onto the upper sandbar to seal off this possible escape route. He conferred briefly with Captain Yukinagi, the Flag Officer was summoned, and the appropriate signal was sent to the starboard flank-boat.

  On the shore, Rolling-Stone, Mack-Truck and Blue-Thunder saw the wheel-boat detach itself from the flotilla and angle away to their left. They didn’t need to be master-tacticians to understand the reason for the move. It was as obvious as it was unexpected.

  The plan hatched by Mr Snow and the war council called for the She-Kargo faction to give ground as soon as the D’Troit began to stoke up the present atmosphere to the point where the two sides came to blows. But while exchanging the usual swaggering taunts with the warriors on the She-Kargo right flank, the D’Troit front-liners had kept the situation below boiling point. The She-Kargo had to begin their withdrawal before the wheel-boat got into position but was denied the reason for doing so!

  The D’Troit, having come to a similar conclusion as to the Iron Master’s strategy, had quickly issued instructions to their warriors to cool it, thereby forcing the She-Kargo into making the first move.

  The leading delegates of the She-Kargo faction who formed the top echelon of the hastily-formed chain of command on the sand-bar put their heads together.

  ‘Treacherous toads!’ exclaimed Rolling-Stone. ‘Yesterday they tried to blame us for everything, and now they’re trying to force us into a position where we have to attack them!’

  ‘We don’t have to pick a fight,’ said Wind-Walker, a M’Waukee wordsmith from the Clan T’Maso. ‘We could just withdraw.’

  Black-Sabbath, paramount warrior of one of the biggest of the She-Kargo clans reacted angrily. ‘The Clan K’Rella has never backed away from any of these jackals from the D’Troit and is not about to do so now!’

  Several other members of the war council expressed the same view with equal force.

  ‘We’re not running away from a fight!’ exclaimed Wind-Walker. ‘We’re running into one! Do you think the D’Troit are just going to stand there and watch us fade away? They’ll be right on our heels with the sharp iron out!’

  Mack-Truck said: ‘If we’re going to move, we’d better do it now.’ He pointed to the huge straggling pack of C’Natti warriors heading around the western side of the lagoon. ‘We have to get to the north shore before they cross the river. Otherwise we’re done for.’

  ‘We’ll also be done for if we don’t get across the channel onto the upper sandbar before that wheel-boat reaches us,’ grunted Rolling-Stone.

  They all looked at the boat. Dark-Star, a M’Waukee summoner who had been given the task of aiding the ‘strategic withdrawal’ asked the question that was in everyone’s minds: ‘Can we outrun it?’

  ‘Not if we stand here arguing,’ said Rolling-Stone. ‘I propose we move. En masse. Now. All those in favour?’

  The motion was carried by eleven to four.

  Rolling-Stone turned to Dark-Star. ‘Besides yourself, how many summoners do we have who can raise stones?’

  ‘I know of at least thirty. There could be more.’

  ‘Good. Pick nine of the best and spread yourselves out so as we’ve got the full width of the sand-bar covered. Position yourselves two hundred paces behind the front rank. The signal to withdraw will be three blasts on the buffalo horns – repeated twice. When you hear that, the front line will fall back towards you, and as they reach you –’

  ‘We hit the beach …’

  ‘With everything you’ve got. Raise a wall of shit that will slow them down and give us a head start.’ Rolling-Stone patted Dark-Star on the shoulder. ‘Take a group of your own clansmen to guard you and as soon as you’ve got lift-off, pull back but keep the magic flowing for as long as you can. Our second line will cover you.’

  Dark-Star eyed the old mute sceptically. ‘What with?’

  Rolling-Stone gave him a comradely slap on the back. ‘Have faith, brother. Talisman looks after his own.’

  Yeahhh. Tell me something new …

  When Rolling-Stone called for the bull-horns to be sounded, the diverted wheel-boat was about four miles from the mouth of the channel between the sand-bars.

  The eerie sound drifted across the water to reach the ear of Samurai-Major Akido Mitsunari and Captain Umigami. Mitsunari was the commander of the military force now assembled on the through-deck below: a combined force of cavalry and infantry, ready to charge down the gangways as soon as the boat reached the shore. Umigami was Master of the vessel but when carrying troops he was obliged by tradition, to follow the orders of their commander. As in ancient Japan, the army took precedence over the navy. Umigami, an officer in the merchant marine, ranked even lower in the pecking order.

  Mitsunari swept his powerful spyglass over the thousands of Mutes that seemed to be milling about aimlessly along the lower sand-bar. Although vastly outnumbered, his tiny force would make mince-meat of them. No discipline! he lamented inwardly. No organization!

  As this judgement passed through his mind, the lines of She-Kargo warriors positioned nearest to the D’Troit wilted then fell back rapidly, opening up a wide gap between the opposing factions. The open stretch of beach erupted with explosive force and an instant later Mitsunari became aware of a high keening sound.

  Through his spyglass he saw sand, stones, grass and gravel being sucked up into moving funnels of air which then snaked forward at great speed into the leading ranks of the She-Kargo. Dust devils! A stream of mini-tornadoes that scythed through the advancing troops, knocking men off their feet with a vicious hail of rocks and stones and momentarily blinding others with whirling clouds of sand.

  It was amazing. Mitsunari had never seen anything like it before. And during the two or three minutes this barrage lasted, the entire She-Kargo army ha
d turned tail and was running towards the channel that separated the two sand-bars.

  The next sound Mitsunari heard was an angry roar from seventy thousand throats as the massed delegations of the D’Troit launched themselves in pursuit.

  Like his commander, Oshio Shinoda, Mitsunari would have dearly loved to know the battle plan of the D’Troit. The chain of agents stationed in the outlands who had acted on behalf of the Yama-Shita family in setting up this ‘arrangement’ had tried to persuade the D’Troit to accept the help of a small team of advisors – including a flag signal unit which could have maintained contact with the advancing flotilla.

  The idiot monkey-faced chieftains who led the D’Troit had spurned this offer, giving as an excuse the difficulty of concealing Iron-Masters among their own ranks. The discovery of such individuals by their rivals would, they claimed, have brought an immediate charge of collaborating with the enemy – a charge the D’Troit intended to make against the She-Kargo.

  As a result, Oshio Shinoda, his junior force commanders and the boat-captains had no way of knowing the on-shore situation beyond what they could see through their telescopes. And under the strict policy of non-belligerence imposed by the Toh-Yota shogunate – to which they were obliged to adhere because of the unwelcome presence of the wheel-boats crewed by the Ko-Nikka and Se-Iko – they could not lawfully intervene until they had run the boats ashore and had received a formal request for assistance!

  Responding to Mitsunari’s request for more speed, the wheel-boat captain sent the traditional signal to the sweating stokers in the engine room. Off his rear port quarter, smoke belched from the funnels of the rest of the flotilla as they responded to a similar order from Oshio Shinoda.