Shadow Games tbc-5

by Glen Charles Cook

  “I don’t see where you’re going.” “Shifter noticed that they’d stopped extending the levee but they were still stockpiling materials. Then he figured it out. They’re going to dam the river, partially. Just enough to divert water into the flood plain so they can drop the level at the Ghoja ford sooner than we expect.”

  I thought about it. It was a cunning bit of business, and entirely practical. The Company had done a trick or two with rivers in its time. All it had to do was give them a day. If they got across unchallenged we were sunk. “The sneaky bastards. Can we get there in time?”

  “Maybe. Even probably, considering you didn’t wait to leave Taglios. But at the rate we’re going it’ll be just barely in time and we’ll be worn out From fighting the mud.”

  “Have they started damming yet?”

  “They start that this morning, Shifter says. It should take them two days to get the fill in and one more to divert enough water.”

  “Will it affect Numa?”

  “Not for a week. The water will keep dropping there for now. Shifter’s guess is they’ll cross at Numa the day before they do at Ghoja.”

  We looked at each other. She saw what I saw. The Shadowmasters had robbed us of what we had in mind for the night before Ghoja. “Damn them!”

  “I know. This mud being what it is, I’ll have to leave today to get there in time. I probably won’t get back to Ghoja. Use Sindawe in our place. That town is a waste, anyway.”

  “I’ll have to move faster, somehow.”

  “Abandon the wagons.”

  “But...”

  “Leave the engineers and quartermasters behind. Let them make the best time they can. I’ll leave them the elephants. They’re no good to me anyway. Have each man carry a little extra. Whatever is most practical. Even the wagons might get there in time if they skip stopping at Vejagehdya.”

  “You’re right. Let’s get at it.” I gathered my people and explained what we were going to do. An hour later I watched Lady and the cavalry file away to the southeast. Mogaba’s grumbling infantrymen, each carrying an extra fifteen pounds, started slogging toward Ghoja.

  Even the old warlord carried a load.

  I was glad I had had the luck or foresight to send out the bulk of the stuff several days early.

  I walked with the rest of them. My horse was carrying two hundred pounds of junk and looking humiliated by the experience. One-Eye grumbled along beside me. He had Frogface out scouting for lines of advance where the earth would least resist our passage.

  I kept one eye on Lady. I felt hollow, empty. We’d both come to think of the night before the Ghoja battle as the night. And now that would not be.

  I suspected it would never be. There would always be something to stand in the way. Maybe there were gods who frowned on our admitting and consummating what we felt inside.

  A pox on them and all their illegitimate children.

  Someday, damnit. Someday.

  But what then? Then we would have to give up a lot of pretense. Then we’d have to face some things, decide some things, examine the possibilities and implications of some commitments.

  I did not spend a lot of time thinking about saving Taglios that day.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Before Ghoja

  Take some ground and sog it real good, all the way down to the earth’s core. Bake it under a warm sun a few days. What do you get?

  Bugs.

  They rose in clouds as I slithered to the crest overlooking the Ghoja ford. The mosquitoes wanted to feed. The smaller guys just wanted to pitch camp in my nose.

  The grass had grown since last time. It was two feet tall now. I slid my sword forward and parted it. Mogaba, Sindawe, Ochiba, Goblin, and One-Eye did the same. “Big mob over there,” One-Eye said.

  We had known that beforehand. We could smell their campfires. My own troops were eating cold. If those guys over there didn’t know we were here yet, I wasn’t going to yell and let them in on it.

  Mob was an operative word. That bunch was undisciplined and disorderly, camped in a sprawl that began at the fortress gate and stretched back south along the road.

  “What you think, Mogaba?”

  “Unless that’s show to fool us we have a chance. If we keep them that side of the crest.” He inched forward, looked at the ground. “You’re sure you want me on the left?”

  “I’m assuming your legion is more ready. Put Ochiba’s on the right up the steeper ground. The natural tendency of an attack would be to push the direction that looks easiest.”

  Mogaba grunted.

  “If they push either one of you much without pushing the other, they open themselves up to heavier enfilading and quartering fire. If the artillery gets here, I’m going to plant some here and the rest down on that little hump there. Have them going both ways. Long as the hinge holds.” The join between legions would be at the road that split the field. “Should be good hunting for archers and javelins, too.”

  Mogaba grumbled, “Plans are mayflies when the steel begins to sing.”

  I rolled onto my side, looked at him directly. “Will the Nar stand fast?”

  His cheek twitched. He knew what I meant.

  Except for the thing on the river, which was a whole different show, Mogaba’s men had seen no real combat. I hadn’t found out till recently. Their ancestors had gotten Gea-Xle and its neighbors so tamed they just had to make noises to keep things in line. These Nar still believed they were the best that ever was, but that had not been proven on a field of blood.

  “They will stand,” Mogaba said. “Can they do anything else? If terror turns their spines to water? They have made their brags.”

  “Right.” Men will do damnfool things just because they said they would.

  What about the rest of my mob? Most were veterans though few had been into this kind of thing. They had handled themselves on the river. But you can’t be sure what a man will do till he does it. I was not sure of myself. I have been in and out of battles all my life, but I have seen old veterans crack.

  And I’d never been a general. Never had to make decisions sure to cost lives. Did I have the inner toughness it takes to send men to sure death to achieve greater goals?

  I was as new to my role as the greenest Taglian soldier.

  Ochiba grunted. I parted the grass.

  A dozen men approached the ford on the south side. Well-dressed men. The enemy captains? “One-Eye. Time for Frogface to do a little eavesdropping.”

  “Check.” He slithered away.

  Goblin gave me a bland look that concealed intense irritation. One-Eye got to keep his toy and he didn’t. I was playing favorites. Children. What difference that that snake had damned near killed me?

  Frogface came back.

  They were coming in the morning. Early. They expected no resistance. They were gloating about what they were going to do to Taglios.

  I had the word spread.

  Wasn’t nobody going to get much sleep tonight.

  Was my little army overprepared? I saw plenty of the anxiety that comes before the hour of blood, but also an eagerness unusual in virgins. Those Taglians knew the odds were long. So how come they were confident in the face of probable disaster?

  I realized I did not understand their culture well enough.

  Dip into the old trick bag, Croaker. Play the captain game. I went walking through the camp, attended by crows as always, speaking to a man here, a man there, listening to an anecdote about a favorite wife or toddler. It was the first time many had seen me up close.

  I tried not to think about Lady. So naturally she would not get out of my mind.

  They were coming tomorrow at Ghoja. That meant they had crossed at Numa today. She might be fighting right now. Or it might be over. She might be dead. Three thousand enemy soldiers might be racing to get behind me.

  Late that afternoon the wagons began arriving. Sindawe came in from Vejagedhya. My spirits rose. I would get to try my little trick after all.


  Stragglers kept coming in all night.

  If we lost the fight the train was gone. There would be no getting it out in all that mud.

  One-Eye kept Frogface flitting across the river. To little purpose. The enemy strategy was: cross that river. Nothing beyond it. Don’t worry about the mules, just load that wagon.

  After nightfall I went up and sat in the damp grass and watched the fires burn on the other side. Maybe I dozed some, off and on. Whenever I glanced up I noticed that the stars had wheeled along...

  I wakened to a presence. A coldness. A dread. I heard nothing, saw nothing, smelled nothing. But I knew it was there. I whispered, “Shifter?”

  A great bulk settled beside me. I amazed myself. I was not afraid. This was one of the two greatest surviving sorcerers in the world, one of the Ten Who Were Taken who had made the Lady’s empire all but invincible, a monster terrible and mad. But I was not afraid.

  I even noticed that he did not smell as bad as he used to. Must be in love.

  He said, “They come with the light.”

  “I know.”

  “They have no sorcery at all. Only the strength of arms. You might conquer.”

  “I was sort of hoping I would. You going to chip in?” Silence for some time. Then, “I will contribute only in small ways. I do not wish to be noticed by the Shadow-masters. Yet.” I thought about what little things he could do that might mean a lot.

  We had started to get some traffic nearby, Taglians lugging fifty-pound sacks of charcoal to the foreslope.

  Of course. “How are you with fog? Can you conjure me up a little?” “Weather is not my strength. Maybe a small patch if there’s reason. Explain.” “Be real handy to have a chunk that would lie along the river and reach maybe two hundred feet up this slope. Bottled this side of the creek over there. Just so those guys would have to come through it.” I told him about my trick.

  He liked it. He chuckled, a small sound that wanted to roar like a volcano. “Man, you were always sneaky, cold-blooded, cruel bastards, smarter than you looked. I like it. I’ll try. It should draw no attention and the results may be amusing.”

  “Thank you.”

  I was speaking to the air. Or maybe a nearby crow. Shifter had gone without a sound.

  I sat there and tormented myself, trying to think of something more I might have done, trying not to think of Lady, trying to excuse myself the dying. The soldiers crossing the ridge made very little noise.

  Later, I became aware of a few tendrils of mist forming. Good.

  There was a bit of rose in the east. Stars were dying. Behind me, Mogaba and the Nar were wakening the men. Across the river, enemy sergeants did the same. A little more light and I could see the artillery batteries ready to be wheeled into position. They had arrived, but so far only one wagon loaded with missiles.

  Shifter had managed a mist, though not all I wanted. Fifteen feet deep at the ford, two hundred fifty yards toward me, not quite reaching the band of charcoal, ten feet wide, that the men had laid out in the night, on an arc from the riverbank in the east around to the bank of the creek.

  Time to go give the final pep talk. I slithered off the crest, turned... And there was Lady.

  She looked like hell but she was grinning.

  “You made it.”

  “Just got here.” She grabbed my hand in hers.

  “You won.”

  “Barely.” She sat down and told me. “The Shadar did good. Pushed them back across twice. But not the third try. It broke up into a brawl and chase before we could get into it. When we did, the Shadowmasters’ men formed up and held out almost all day.”

  “Any survivors?”

  “A few. But they didn’t get back across. I put some men over right away, caught them off guard, and took their fortress. Afterward I sent Jah on across.” She smiled. “I gave him a hundred men to scout and told him your orders were to circle around behind them here. He could be in position this afternoon if he pushes.”

  “He take heavy losses?”

  “Eight hundred to a thousand.”

  “He’s dead if we blow it here.”

  She smiled. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it? Politically speaking.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. I still had trouble thinking that way.

  She said, “I sent a messenger to Theri telling the Gunni to seize the crossing. Another is headed for Vehdna-Bota.”

  “You have the mercy of a spider.”

  “Yes. It’s almost time. You’d better get dressed.”

  “Dressed?”

  “Showmanship. Remember?”

  We headed for camp. I asked, “You bring any of your men with you?”

  “Some. More will straggle in.”

  “Good. I won’t have to use Sindawe.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ghoja

  I felt like a fool in the getup Lady put on me. A real Ten Who Were Taken costume, baroque black armor with little threads of bloody light slithering over it. Made me look about nine feet tall when I was up on one of those black stallions. The helmet was the worst. It had big black wings on the side, a tall gismo with fluffy black feathers on the crown, and what looked like fire burning behind the visor.

  One-Eye thought it would look intimidating as hell from a distance. Goblin figured my enemies would laugh themselves to death.

  Lady got into an outfit just as outrageous, black, grotesque helmet, fires.

  I sat there on my horse feeling weird. My people were ready. One-Eye sent Frogface to watch the enemy. Lady’s helpers brought shields and lances and swords. The shields had grim symbols on them, the lances matching pennons. She said, “I’ve created two nasties. With luck we can turn them into something with an image like the Taken. Their names are Widowmaker and Lifetaker. Which one do you want to be?”

  I closed my visor. “Widowmaker.”

  She fish-eyed me a good ten seconds before she told somebody to hand me my stuff. I took all my old familiar hardware along, too.

  Frogface popped up. “Get ready, chief. They’re about to hit the water.”

  “Right. Spread the word.”

  I glanced right. I glanced left. Everyone and everything was ready. I had done all I could. It was in the hands of the gods or the jaws of fate.

  Frogface was down in the mist when the enemy hit the water. He popped back. I gave a signal. A hundred drums started pounding. Lady and I crossed the ridgeline. I guess we made a good show. Over in the fortress people scurried around and pointed.

  I drew the sword Lady had given me, gestured for them to turn back. They did not. I would not have in their place. But I’ll bet they were damned uneasy. I advanced down the hill and touched that burning blade to the charcoal strip.

  Flame ripped across the slope. It burned out in twenty seconds but left the charcoal glowing. I got back quickly. The fumes were powerful.

  Frogface popped up. “They’re pouring across now, chief.”

  I could not yet see them through the mists. “Tell them to stop the drums.”

  Instant silence. Then the clangor of troops in the mist. And their cursing and coughing in the sulphur-laden air. Frogface returned. I told him, “Tell Mogaba to bring them over.”

  The drums started talking again. “March them in a straight line,” I muttered. “That’s all I ask, Mogaba. March them in a straight line.”

  They came. I dared not look to see how they were doing. But they passed me soon enough. And they were holding formation.

  They assumed positions across the slope from the creek, then down to the river on the left, with the hinge between legions at the road. Perfection.

  The enemy began coming out of the mist, swirling it, staggering, disordered, coughing furiously, cursing. They

  encountered the barrier of charcoal and did not know what to do.

  I gestured with my sword. Missiles flew.

  It looked like pure unreasoning panic had seized the fortress. The enemy captains saw they had walked into it and did not know how
to respond. They chased their tails and fussed and did not do anything.

  Their soldiers just kept coming, not knowing what they were walking into until they came out of the mist and found themselves stopped by the charcoal.

  The mist began to drift off downriver. Shifter could not hold it any longer. But a little had been enough.

  They had some competent sergeants on the other side. They began bringing up water and cutting paths through the coals with trenching tools. They began getting their men into ragged formations, behind their shields, safer from arrows and javelins. I signalled again. The wheeled ballistae opened up.

  Daring the enemy’s worst, Mogaba and Ochiba rode back and forth in front of their men, exhorting them to stand fast, to maintain the integrity of their line.

  My role was cruel, now. I could do nothing but sit there with the breeze playing around me, being symbolic. They got aisles cleared through the charcoal and rushed through. A lot got dead for their trouble. The ballistae ran out of missiles and withdrew, but arrows and javelins continued to rain on those coming up from the ford, taking a terrible toll.

  More and more pressure all along the line. But the legions did not bend, and gave as good as they got. Their lungs were not burned raw by sulphur gasses.

  Over half the enemy had crossed the river. A third of those had fallen. The captains in the fortress remained indecisive.

  The Shadowmasters’ troops kept coming across. A furious desperation began to animate them. Eighty percent over. Ninety percent. The Taglians began to give a

  step here and there. I remained frozen, an iron symbol. “Frogface,” I muttered into my helmet, “I need you now.”

  The imp materialized, perched on my mount’s neck. “What you need, chief?” I filled him up with orders I wanted relayed to Murgen, to Otto and Hagpp, to Sindawe, to damned near everybody I could think of. Some ordered next steps of the plan, some involved innovations.

  The morning had been remarkably crow-free. Now that changed. Two monsters, damned near as big as chickens, settled on my shoulders. They were nobody’s imagination. I felt their weight. Others saw them. Lady turned to look at them.