“With what army?” scoffed Tyndal. “These are the last of Korbal’s great goblins. At least for a while.”
“There are plenty of things you can do without an army,” I lectured. “Karakush is a wily sorcerer, by all accounts. He managed to find a way to send me a message without his master discovering it. He could prove a formidable foe without fielding a horde. Indeed, I think we’ve proven just how hard it can be to send a horde against Vanador. I count on him finding another way to strike at us.”
“I’m glad you finally got someone to field your counterintelligence, then,” Astyral said. “Jannik seems like a good fellow, and he’s good at his job. Incredible voice, too. But is he up to the task of stopping an infiltrator? I would think a mage would be better at that.”
“He can hire magi, as needed. But Jannik understands people in uncanny ways. That’s a better talent than rajira, right now. He’ll do fine,” I assured.
“Karakush has many strongholds, according to Gurkarl,” Tyndal informed us. “And he has taken a very keen interest in human slaves. Talking to them, not working them to death.”
“May the gods save us from an intelligent enemy,” I said, shaking my head. “Yes, we’ve already seen the results of his interest. I shudder to think of what else he’s plotting.”
“Or a devious one,” Astyral agreed. “Try to give it a few months before you start the next war, Minalan,” he advised. “I need a rest, after this.”
We stopped briefly at dusk for a quick meal and to rest the horses, and then we proceeded more carefully in the darkness. We could see gurvani all around us, fleeing the battle in groups of five or ten, heading east and studiously avoiding us. We kept pickets and wards up for four hours while we napped, then got underway again after midnight. We encountered the escaping goblins just after dawn. We kept our distance, as we rode around the southern side of the mob.
For a mob it was. There was no organization, no formation. The survivors of the battle looked angry and frightened, and many had wounds from their struggle. Armor and shields had been discarded in their attempt to flee, and many were missing weapons. Thousands of gurvani and about a score of surviving trolls churned and surged in a rough circle as they tried to get organized. Whatever help or assistance Korbal had sent was not readily apparent. They had no baggage train, no rations and no leadership to speak of.
So, they chanted. I don’t know why – perhaps religious reasons, or to achieve some sense of order, or perhaps they just were seeking solace for their loss on the battlefield. But their chanting gave them spirit. They were turning their fear into rage. They saw us, at a distance, but sent no one to intercept us.
We picketed the horses and watched for hours. Four times that day a pair of giant falcons would fly over the band, making slow circles around it while the Sky Riders made observations. I kept in contact with Terleman, who was trying to handle the aftermath of the battle, and I reported what we saw to him.
Late in the day, when many of the maragorku had settled down to sleep in whatever shade they could find, a sense of order came over the horde, we noted. In fact, as we watched with magesight, a cluster of Enshadowed emerged from the crowd, surrounding a Nemovort.
We did not know which one it was; but the pale-skinned human body that contained it was tall and ungainly, covered in tattoos of sorcerous sigils. Around him were three red-eyed draugen, the first I’d really seen in this campaign, apparently to enforce the Nemovort’s rule. They did so almost as soon as they emerged when the undead lord commanded his minions to tear apart three gurvani with whom he apparently took issue. After that, it appeared that any talk of rebellion and desertion from the goblins would be similarly met, and the horde started to organize itself.
It was fascinating, in a way, to watch our foe try to put themselves back together again with intimidation, threats and acts of violence. The Nemovort seemed to be neither warrior nor sorcerer, but he commanded great respect among the gurvani, both normal and great goblins. Even the trolls seemed to be more attentive.
He proved even more popular when he produced rations and supplies from another portal, including more weaponry. It tumbled out of a four-foot wide arcane aperture that I’d come to associate with the molopor under the former Boval castle. Korbal was being generous to his defeated goblins. It looked like he was starting to take lessons for how we used magic to supply ourselves.
As darkness fell, we retreated a bit and made camp in a wood out of sight of the goblins. We were all getting worried, because it was clear that the gurvani would be ready to march, soon, and every word we got from Terleman or the others was a bad one.
We won’t be able to get more than a few hundred headed in your direction, he said, apologetically. Some of Azar’s knights and most of the Vorone Free Company, but that’s about all. The Gilmorans are screaming that we tricked them and that they want to go home, our people are exhausted, and the mercenaries are about to rebel because they weren’t paid to fight goblins. I’ll get it sorted out, but right now it’s in the chamber pot, he admitted.
A few hundred isn’t going to do it, Terl, I warned. There are still a lot of goblins here, maybe fifteen thousand. They’re ignoring us right now, but a few hundred more horses will just make us a threat.
Well, I have the Sky Riders, a wing of them, at least, he pointed out. The other two are doing scouting operations north and south of here, to identify any bands that escaped the battle. But they’re almost completely out of munitions. Would that help?
I suppose, I said, after a moment’s thought. It would at least give us more versatility. We could run away if they chased us, but it would be nice to have some reinforcements.
I’ll do what I can, he promised. If you could hold out for three or four more days—
We can’t. That is, we can, but the gurvani can’t. By then the goblins will be on the move. We’ve got to get to them before they do damage. How about Anguin’s Tower? Anybody there?
Not to speak of. They’re all here, Terleman said. Just be patient. We’ll get to them.
I wasn’t being patient.
I could appreciate the problems Terleman was having, but I was still worried. A lot of stragglers kept finding the horde, sometimes in ones or twos, sometimes by the company. More trolls stumbled out of the woods where they had fled. Someone found a drum and began the monotonous, constant rhythm that apparently signaled a rally. We watched all night long, in shifts, and our sense of foreboding only grew. These goblins were not going away. They were getting stronger.
By the next morning, another two thousand had joined them. Their morale had improved, with food and leadership, and they started guarding and patrolling their perimeter a lot more effectively. We watched them reorganize into units, that morning, and appoint new non-commissioned officers, officers and commanders. The Nemovort was highly efficient in his work, it appeared. By noon there was a bell erected to signal a change in the guard or something. A few tents and canopies went up. That’s about when the scant reinforcements arrived from Terleman.
“We were a little cautious of coming,” the leader of the Vorone Free Company told me, as his men began enlarging our camp. “Those godsdamned Gilmorans are giving Terl trouble. They lost almost eighteen hundred of their precious knights in the battle. And their crossbowmen are cowards. They want us to pay reparations for the ransoms they weren’t able to collect . . . on us,” he added with a chuckle. “Terl told them to go to the hell of their choice, of course. But he can’t send you more troops with the Gilmorans acting up.”
“I agree,” I sighed, heavily. “I knew there would be some risk in that strategy, but . . . All right, then, if we cannot muster the troops to attack, how else can we encourage those goblins to be elsewhere?”
“If we let them leave, we just have to face them again in a year,” Tyndal pointed out. “Hopefully, Korbal will open a portal and let them escape, instead of lingering around here. That’s the smart move,” he assured us.
As if he was prescient, o
ur observers saw several portals open up that afternoon at the edge of the gurvani encampment. They watched as more food was deposited, and then, to their horror, they watched as another portal opened. And began disgorging goblins from it.
These maragorku were even bigger than their fellows, thuggish brutes easily as large as a man and boasting thick muscles in their necks, shoulders, and arms. And they came by the scores. A dozen trolls added to their number through the next portal. Unlike most of Korbal’s Hulka Alon, these buggers were armored head to foot, and carried huge halberds.
“Just how long can they keep that thing open?” Tyndal asked, as we observed from a shady blind. “Those must be Korbal’s elite,” he suggested, “the ones he keeps around the Dark Vale to protect it and keep order.”
“That would make sense,” I agreed. “It would also indicate that he is, for the moment, running low on resources. But I suppose he figures that, as long as he has an army here, so far beyond the Penumbra, it’s easier to strengthen it and attack than it is to withdraw and try another day. Just as Terleman committed our reserves, he’s committing his.”
“Well, they just keep coming,” Tyndal said, uneasily, as the great goblins streamed out of nowhere and joined in. Every new unit elicited a cheer from the goblins. And then another company of trolls began coming through, adding to their heavy infantry. These bore tree trunks topped with great rings of stone, or huge spears or axes. They wore little armor, but each bore a giant iron helm that enclosed their heads. “Bigger and bigger. They keep coming, Min! How many can come through in an hour?”
“We got four thousand through in about four hours,” I reminded him. “They have to be doing just as many. Depending on how many reserves he has, this could get a lot uglier. I’d better tell Terleman,” I said, shaking my head.
“If they get ready to march, Lendine is doomed. And Mostel Abbey,” he added, miserably. “They’ll go up the escarpment after the towers after that. And then to Vanador. And it looks like it’s going to take a bloody miracle to stop them!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bova’s Promise Fulfilled
“Blessings unlooked for are oft the brightest.”
Wilderlands Folk Saying
From the Collections of Jannik the Rysh
Our second night out in the fields scouting the goblin encampment was filled with anxiety, as hundreds more troops poured forth from the portal every hour. The horde was much more organized, now, with patrols and sentries, newly rearmed and resupplied. The Fell Hound riders were sent out in wider and wider patrols, headed north and east toward the hills.
They were in a difficult position. They had an army and a river behind them, cutting them off from mundane escape. Their new master had elected to continue the offensive, and Korbal seemed willing to pay the bill in soldiers and treasure. There was little doubt of their destination, when they began marching; only their route was open to question.
“Mostel Abbey,” Tyndal insisted, as we argued over the possibilities. “The pass on the far side of the hill is wide enough for their army and leads right to the abbey. Then on to Lendine, for a good sacking.”
“I think they’ll go more easterly,” Astyral predicted. “I got to know the territory quite well, around here, when I was the governor of Tudry. The passes there are more narrow, but they can cross the river directly above the falls. Then it’s straight north to Anguin’s Tower.”
“But is that what they want to take?” asked Tamonial. “You’re thinking about this as a human lord, not an Enshadowed. They care not for loot or simple destruction. The Necromancer has put forth his best to achieve a goal. If they cannot reduce Megelin, then they will raze what towers they can, but only in passing. Their real goal can only be Vanador, the seat of your power. If they follow the Danz, they can take Anguin’s Tower and use it as a base with which to invade Vanador through its unprotected southern lands.”
“They’re protected,” I argued. “Just . . . not by a lot of castles. But your point is taken, Tamonial. They could either take a slow strategy and capture the tower for their own use, or they could raze it and march north immediately, when the bulk of our forces are still encamped on the Wildwater. Either way, it appears Anguin’s Tower is going to be a target.”
“Do you think you could talk sense into the Gilmorans?” Tyndal asked, skeptically. “If they were to deploy quickly, we could catch them before they made it to the escarpment.”
“They don’t sound as if they’re being reasonable,” agreed Astyral. “I actually spoke to one of my mundane cousins, when we were in camp. Sir Amonel of Denton. Kind of a dull fellow, but a good swordsman and reputably honest. He told me that the men were promised great rewards and ransoms, if they rode north. They’re bitter that they had to really fight. And that they don’t have the opportunity for real loot. They discovered that the goblins don’t really carry a lot of coin or expensive gilt armor or fat purses full of silver into battle.”
“Money? This is about money?” Tyndal sneered. “How much do they want to go fight goblins, like real men? They damn sure didn’t do that when their own lands were endangered!” he added, bitterly. Tyndal still held a grudge about the Gilmoran failure at the Poros. He’d spent time in Gilmora, in Astyral’s own barony, after the invasion, and seen the devastation that the Gilmoran knights had caused by their cowardice and incompetence.
“I’ll speak to Terleman about offering them a bribe,” I said, realizing that my protégé had a point. If a few thousand ounces of gold would purchase their lances, I had that much in my study. “But consider what kind of force will be required to contend with that – newly strengthened – army.”
“They gained by five thousand, by my count,” Tamonial said. “And another three hundred trolls. All superior troops. That is a sizable addition to their army.”
“But who is leading them?” I wondered. “Which of the Nemovorti has Korbal sent to clean up Shakathet’s mess? That might be telling. I wish we knew more about them,” I confessed.
“Does it matter?” Tyndal asked. “We need to strike, Master. Strike, and strike hard.”
“Dire will dawn the day when Caswallon rides forth to contend with such evil!” Caswallon said, as he returned from a scouting mission. He had been steadfast in our pursuit of the horde, volunteering to lead patrols and observation missions. He seemed just as eager for a fight as he had every step from the battle. He, alone, didn’t seem weary from the effort.
“Strike with what?” I replied. “We’ve three hundred, here. Good warmagi, excellent mercenaries, but three hundred is an annoyance, as potent as we are. I don’t think we can be decisive. Even if I use the deeper powers of the Magolith, which I am highly reluctant to do. The Sky Riders cannot destroy an army of that size from the air. We are low on our munitions,” I explained. “We took the very last the bouleuterion had time to complete. It will take time to make more.”
“We must use steel and spark, if we have no recourse to constructs,” mused Caswallon. “Only by the righteous strength of our arms and the cunning of our spells can we prevail! But whatever stratagems you need prepare, do so anon; for I come bearing news: the dark foe marches, with the determination of those whose souls are driven by the very demons of hell!”
“Well why didn’t you say so when you arrived?” sniffed Astyral, in frustration.
“You were conversing,” Caswallon answered, puzzled. “I was waiting for an opportunity to speak. It would be rude to interrupt.”
“Marching where?” I demanded. “What direction?”
“Due east, with all the—”
“Break camp!” I ordered, interrupting what was no doubt an intriguing and inspiring description of goblins marching in a straight line. Because I don’t mind being rude. “Break camp! Let’s prepare to shadow them, for now,” I ordered. “If we can’t stop them, then at least we can spy on them and ensure they don’t do anything rash. Until the real army gets here.”
***
What followed was
one of the most professional military missions I’ve ever been on. It was entirely due to Tyndal’s command and the expert skills of the Vorone Free Company, most of whom had been with the storied 3rd Commando. Veterans all, they obeyed with precision, operated with superior ability, and covered a tremendous amount of ground in a short period of time. As special operations go, it was nearly flawless.
In following the resurgent horde, we ended up working with all three wings of Sky Riders, which was interesting. Late on that first day of watchful pursuit, we came to a hill where we stopped, briefly, for luncheon. Our patrolling pair of Sky Riders elected to join us, as the gurvani had stopped in the heat of the day. As it happened, it was the Anas Yartharel wing who was escorting us that day. The meal with the two riders was enlightening.
They told us of how Ithalia had come to the camps and refuges of the Tera Alon, among whom she was held in high esteem. There, she had quietly sought the most adventurous of those who admired the humani enough to imitate them. Ithalia spoke of a new adventure, one requiring incredible bravery and skill. She made the plea so passionately that she was flooded with recruits. The forty who now flew overhead were culled from twice that number of applicants.
The birds, too, I saw, were different from the Mindens Raptor and Silver Headed Raptors that the humani Mewstowers had cultivated. Their birds were slightly larger than our wings’ birds, and were reddish, with a darker brown hood of feathers, and a sleeker look. They looked elegantly savage and decidedly predatory.
Most of their Sky Riders were content to ride in their original Alka Alon forms, explaining that they did not want to overburden their mounts with the larger bodies while on campaign. They assured me that they were still very capable of battle in the air, in that form, even as they returned to their Tera Alon forms during luncheon as a courtesy. But I did notice that there were more female than male riders, for some reason. Having lunch in the field with two insanely beautiful, nearly naked, giggly Tera Alon women was an unexpected pleasure.
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