War Maid's Choice

by David Weber

  Now Arsham found himself upon that throne he’d never sought, after all, with his mother restored to a place of honor in Navahk, and that could never have happened without Navahk’s defeat. More, he sat upon the throne of a Navahk more prosperous than it had ever dreamed of being, as a member of the Council of Princes Bahnak of Hurgrum had created as what was effectively the Royal Council of the Northern Confederation. He was far too intelligent to believe for a moment that he could ever have risen to such a position under other circumstances. Besides, unlike his father, Arsham’s word meant something, and he’d sworn fealty to Bahnak and the great charter Bahnak had drawn up for the Confederation. Whether it rankled or not, that was the end of the matter as far as his loyalty was concerned; if anyone could be confident of that, a champion of Tomanāk was that anyone.

  Sir Trianal Bowmaster sat to Hurthang’s left. Trianal was the only person at that table younger than Vaijon, yet he sat back comfortably, his expression and his body language equally relaxed among the presence of those who had once been his sworn enemies. He still hadn’t overcome quite all the attitudes his conservative mother had instilled in him as a child, but Tellian had been stretching his heir’s thought processes for the better part of ten years now, and it was starting to show. The thought amused Vaijon, particularly given the way his own thought processes had required a little “stretching” once upon a time. And how much more...vigorously that stretching had been achieved, for that matter.

  Sir Yarran Battlecrow sat at Trianal’s elbow. A grizzled, competent warrior who was now well into middle age (or possibly even a little further than that, although Vaijon wasn’t going to be foolish enough to suggest anything of the sort where he might hear of it), Yarran had been “loaned” to the expedition at Trianal’s request by Sir Festian Wrathson, Lord Warden of Glanharrow. The commander of Lord Festian’s scouts, Sir Yarran would perform the same function for Trianal, and the comfortable, confident relationship between him and his youthful overlord was easy to see.

  Gorsandahknarthas zoi’Felahkandarnas sat beside Sir Yarran, in a chair which was considerably higher than that of anyone else seated around the table. Gorsan wasn’t there as a member of the war council per se, but as the supervisor of the entire Derm Canal project, his interest in the summer campaign was obvious, and he had a better grasp than anyone else present of how well—and how readily—their troops could be kept in supply. The tall (for an Axeman, at any rate), black-haired human in well-worn mail seated beside Gorsan, on the other hand, was a member of the war council in good standing. Rianthus of Sindor was normally the commander of Kilthandahknarthas’ personal security force, but this summer the ex-major in the Royal and Imperial Mounted Infantry had been detailed to command the relatively small force of Dwarvenhame infantry which would provide close security for the dwarvish combat engineers who’d been attached to the field force.

  And then, finally, between Rianthus and Vaijon, there was the fellow who most definitely was not a member of the council of war, although no one was likely to mention that to him. Exactly how Tellian—or, for that matter, King Markhos—expected even a champion of Tomanāk to keep Prince Yurokhas out of the inevitable fighting was more than Vaijon was prepared to guess. He intended to do his best, but it wasn’t going to be a simple little task like, oh, slaying a demon or two.

  His lips twitched at the thought, and he gave himself a mental shake as all those other eyes looked back at him.

  “I thought we might begin,” he said, “by considering our logistics for the summer.”

  Yurgazh looked a little wary in the wake of that comment, but he wasn’t entirely alone in that. In fact, his weren’t even the wariest eyes present. Pre-Confederation Bloody Sword concepts of military logistics had been rudimentary, at best, yet Vaijon had come to the conclusion that they’d still been better developed than those of the their neighbors atop the Wind Plain. Sothōii who’d served with Axeman armies, like Sir Kelthys Lancebearer, another of Tellian’s cousins, tended to have a sounder appreciation than their fellows for the importance of forethought and organization when it came to supplying troops in the field, but even they were inclined to leave such matters up to their Axeman allies. For the most part, however, Sothōii armies were far more likely to improvise as they went along, with occasionally disastrous consequences. Fortunately, that was beginning to change—for this lot of Sothōii, at any rate—in the wake of the last couple of years’ campaigns. They’d discovered that keeping their troops well fed, well armed, and well supplied with fodder was a significant force multiplier, but they still had the look of someone expected to converse in a foreign language (and dreading it).

  I wonder if they think there’s going to be a quiz after the meeting? Vaijon thought sardonically, reflecting on how Sir Charrow, his own mentor in Belhadan would have done just that to him. Then he scolded himself. Of course Sir Charrow would have! He was, after all, a knight of the Order of Tomanāk, and the Order believed in training its members thoroughly, which meant he’d been given the opportunity for a much sounder grounding in such matters than any of these officers—with the possible exception of Rianthus—ever could have gotten in the normal order of things.

  And you even paid attention to those lessons, didn’t, you Vaijon? he reflected.

  “Gorsan?” he invited out loud, and the engineer shrugged.

  “I’m sure Rianthus actually has a better appreciation of the nuts and bolts than I do,” the dwarf said, “but I can say the canal head is almost thirty leagues further east than it was at this point last year. That’s going to shorten how far we’ll have to haul supplies by wagon between Derm and the Hangnysti by ninety miles or so, and Prince Bahnak spent the winter building more barges here at Hurgrum. We’ll have almost twice the cargo capacity we had last year once we do get those supplies to the Hangnysti to barge them down to you. And that other project we discussed a few months ago”—he looked around the table—“is looking a lot more practical than I really thought it would.”

  Several of the others stirred slightly, eyebrows rising in expressions which ran the gamut from satisfaction to skepticism. Prince Yurokhas’ expression was firmly at the skeptical end of the spectrum, and Vaijon hid a smile as he saw it. For all the prince’s enthusiasm for the Derm Canal, he continued to cherish strong reservations about the practicality of Bahzell’s latest brainstorm. Not that Vaijon was even tempted to fault Yurokhas for his doubts, for the prince had never visited Dwarvenhame as Bahzell (and Vaijon, for that matter) had. As such, he had no real concept of the sheer tonnage of high-quality steel, not simply iron, Dwarvenhame’s water-powered blast furnaces and “convertors” could produce. Nor had he ever seen heavy wagonloads of ore, coal, limestone, coke, or manufactured goods moving along ribbons of steel rails. Given the far more limited—and vastly more expensive—quantities of iron Baron Yeraghor’s East Riding foundries and smithies produced, it was no wonder Yurokhas continued to consider the notion that anyone could possibly produce enough steel to lay a track of rails literally dozens of miles long across the terrain between the canal head and the Hangnysti more than a little ridiculous. And even assuming that was possible, no one accustomed to the Kingdom’s atrocious roads could be expected to grasp how much more efficient draft animals became when they hauled their loads along smooth steel rails instead of lurching laboriously from one mudhole to the next.

  Which is fair enough, Vaijon reflected. The dwarves hadn’t really considered the possibility of using rails anywhere except inside their mountains until Bahzell suggested it to them. He snorted silently in amusement. I guess it took someone who was too ignorant of all the reasons it wouldn’t work to come up with the idea in the first place! And I wonder what kind of effect it’s going to have on the entire Empire by the time Kilthan and the others are done with it?

  That was actually, he realized, a very good question. Even Axeman roads often left a bit to be desired, especially in winter weather or heavy rain. Dwarvenhame freight wagons were far better sprung and
more efficient than anyone else’s, yet according to Kilthan’s experts, a draft team could pull twice or even as much as three times the load in one of the “rail carts” than the same team could manage in even a dwarven wagon. That was why they used them to move the massive loads their foundries required, after all. So if Dwarvenhame truly did begin extending “rail ways”—or would they end up calling them “rail roads,” instead, Vaijon wondered?—alongside the existing Axeman high roads, what effect was that going to have on the Empire’s internal economy?

  “According to my latest messages from Silver Cavern, the first shipments of rails should be arriving at the canal head in a few more days,” Gorsan continued, “We’ve already surveyed the route, and I’ve had work gangs grading the worst stretches for the last couple of weeks.” He grimaced. “I can’t say I’m happy about having to divert work crews from the canal, but Prince Bahnak’s promised us additional manpower to make up for it, and I expect we can have the tracks down by, oh, the end of next month or the middle of the month after. Once we do, and coupled with the extra river barges, we’ll be able to keep your forces supplied a lot more easily, without the bottlenecks we had last year. And”—this time his grimace segued into a grin—“it’ll be a lot less expensive than it was last year, too!”

  “Well, Uncle Tellian will certainly be in favor of both of those,” Trianal remarked with an answering smile. Then his expression became more thoughtful. “On the other hand, I can’t help wondering. If this ‘rail way is going to be as efficient as it sounds like it is, are we wasting unnecessary effort building the canal in the first place?”

  “Oh, no, Milord!” Gorsan shook his head emphatically. “Draft teams can pull much heavier loads along rails, that’s true, but there’s really no comparison between how much freight we can can haul overland and how much we can manage using barges. A single barge can carry as much as three or four hundred tons of cargo at a time, and that’s a lot more than you could put into any rail cart! This is going to allow us to move larger quantities of supplies much more rapidly for your army, and it may well help a lot—on a smaller scale, at least—in places where even canals simply aren’t practical, but it’s nowhere close to being a substitute for this canal. Not with the amounts of freight we’re talking about moving once everything is finished and running properly.”

  “I see.” Trianal nodded.

  His voice was both satisfied and courteous, yet Vaijon’s mental ears pricked as something about the younger man’s tone registered. Then, as he glanced at the expressions of the others seated around the table, he felt an ungrudging sense of respect.

  He didn’t ask that for himself. He asked it for the others, to make sure no one else was going to start questioning exactly why we’re about to go out and get altogether too many of our people hurt or even killed this summer. I wonder if that was Tellian’s idea or he came up with it on his own? A year ago I’d’ve bet it was Tellian’s, but now...

  “And the new arbalests?” he inquired out loud, turning his attention to Rianthus after giving Trianal the very slightest of approving nods.

  “They should be arriving along with the first shipment of rails,” Rianthus answered. “And Kilthan tells me they’re considering a version for merely human archers, as well,” he added with a wry smile.

  A chorus of chuckles greeted that remark, and they were actually louder from the Sothōii side of the table than from the hradani side, Vaijon noted. That was good, although he rather doubted the Sothōii in general were going to be quite as cheerful about the new weapons as “his” Sothōii were. Given how much of the Sothōii cavalry’s invincibility depended upon the deadly accuracy and speed of their mounted archers, it would have been unreasonable to expect them to happily greet the notion of infantry missile troops whose weapons were not only longer ranged and harder hitting than their own bows but fired far more rapidly than anyone else’s crossbows—even medium crossbows, far less arbalests—possibly could, to boot.

  The very idea was going to deeply offend the more hidebound of the Sothōii traditionalists (and right offhand, Vaijon couldn’t think of anyone who could possibly be more hidebound than a Sothōii traditionalist), and the thought that those weapons were going to be in the hands of hradani was only going to make it worse. Of course, if they’d been paying attention for the last, oh, twenty years or so, they would have realized Prince Bahnak’s Horse Stealers were already fielding heavy crossbowmen with preposterous rates of fire. But the new arbalests Silver Cavern had designed expressly for Bahnak (and for which they had charged him a pretty copper, Vaijon knew) had heavier pulls than even a Horse Stealer’s arm could span with a simple goat’s foot. Their built-in, integral cocking levers were geared and cammed to provide their users with a heavy mechanical advantage, which allowed for a pull many times as powerful as any bow’s could possibly be. Not to mention the fact that once spanned, an arbalest could be held that way far longer than any archer could hold a fully drawn bow, which gave the crossbowman time to aim carefully. Indeed, one of Kilthan’s artisans had actually figured out how to fit them with sights for even greater accuracy.

  They were big enough (and heavy enough) to constitute two-man weapons for anyone but a hradani, and they still couldn’t match a horse archer’s rate of fire. A trained Sothōii could fire as many as fifteen aimed shafts in a minute, whereas even a Horse Stealer with one of the new arbalests could manage no more than six. But hradani crossbowmen were foot archers, and trained marksmen firing from their own feet were always going to be more accurate than even the most highly skilled mounted archer firing from the back of a moving horse.

  On the other hand, human crossbowmen aren’t going to be able to handle the weight of pull our lads can, even with the new design, Vaijon thought cheerfully. There is a limit to how much mechanical advantage you can give any cocking lever if you’re going to span the thing with a single pull! I doubt any of Trianal’s fellows are going to complain about having that kind of fire support against the ghouls, though.

  “Actually,” Rianthus continued with a sly smile, “one of Kilthan’s bright young engineers claims to have come up with a still better idea. He thinks he may be able to design an arbalest that can be loaded with more than one quarrel at a time.”

  “Of course he can!” Trianal snorted. “No doubt they’ll be able to fire five or six with each shot!”

  “Oh, no!” Rianthus looked at him with becoming solemnity. “That would be wasteful, Milord! What they’re talking about is just an arrangement that would automatically put another quarrel onto the string every time the arbalest is spanned without the archer having to individually load it.”

  “Ah, that’s much better!”

  Trianal rolled his eyes, and Sir Yarran smiled under his mustache and shook his head. Vaijon chuckled as well, although given what he’d seen out of the dwarves, he was less confident than the Sothōii that Rianthus was simply pulling their legs.

  “Even without the new, magical, multishot arbalest,” he said dryly, “I think the ghouls are going to be exceedingly unhappy when they run into several hundred quarrels at a time.”

  “That they will, Sir Vaijon,” Sir Yarran said with undisguised satisfaction. Unlike the other Sothōii sitting around the table, he’d personally experienced Horse Stealer arbalests from the receiving end, and he hadn’t enjoyed it a bit. The others lacked that particular target’s-eye insight, but he and Trianal had both seen it from the firing side in the previous campaigns into the Ghoul Moor. “And I hope no one will take this wrongly, but it occurs to me that there’s no one in this whole wide world I’d sooner see unhappy.”

  “Oh, I don’t think anyone’s going to argue with you about that, Sir Yarran,” Yurgazh said. He and Yarran had met for the first time less than a week earlier, yet it was obvious they were kindred spirits in many ways. Now, as he smiled nastily at the Sothōii scout, much of his earlier stiffness vanished. “Myself, I was born and raised in Tralth.” His smile remained, but his eyes turned much grimmer.
“We had more experience than I like to remember with ghouls—aye, and trolls, come to that—spilling across our frontier.” He shook his head. “There’s more than a few Bloody Swords who think burning the entire Ghoul Moor to the ground is a wonderful idea, canal routes or no canal routes!”

  “I think we can all agree with that, General,” Prince Yurokhas said. Yurgazh looked at him, and the prince shrugged. “We may have the river between us and the Ghoul Moor proper, but we’ve lost more horses and cattle—and children—to them than any of us like to remember, either.” He shook his head, his expression as grim as Yurgazh’s eyes. “I don’t think there’s a single Sothōii, however...ambivalent he may be about your Confederation, who won’t lift a mug in Hurgrum’s direction the day the last ghoul’s head goes up on a pike somewhere.”

  “Aye?” Prince Arsham’s deep voice was rough edged, even a little rasping, from too many orders on too many battlefields. He gazed at the brother of the Sothōii king for several thoughtful seconds, then smiled slowly. “Good,” he said. “To speak honestly, Your Highness, there are times I’m less confident than Prince Bahnak about how all of this is likely to work out in the end, but it’s good to know there’s at least one thing we can all agree to.”

  “There are those on top of the Wind Plain who undoubtedly cherish even more doubts than you do, Your Highness.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in Yurokhas’ voice as he returned the honorific to Arsham. “And that doesn’t even consider the ones who’re actively opposed to everything your people and Baron Tellian are trying to accomplish here.”