Nothing but Tombs

by Tim Stead

  He rode forward again. Alwain would shout at him, but Haliman would propose the change to marching orders and sacrifice his careless scouts and then they would go forwards once more.

  In a way Haliman envied Tamarak. The young colonel had freedoms that were not available to Haliman. All he had left was his honour, and honour was loyalty and service.

  *

  They camped that night without incident. Alwain had ranted for close to an hour and the scouts had paid with their lives, but Haliman had doubled the guards and put outliers along the road. There would be no unpleasant surprises in the night if he could help it, and so it proved. He was surprised. Tamarak would have precious few chances to attack before Great Howe and a night attack would have been one of them.

  The camp roused and the column reformed in battle order. Haliman had questioned the officers that came from these domains and he knew he had just twenty-five miles to cover before they broke into open country, and Great Howe wasn’t much further. They would win free of the hills today.

  That meant Tamarak would attack some time before dusk.

  It was a guessing game. Haliman had stayed up half the night studying the lie of the land and had come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. Tamarak’s small force would attack and Haliman would lose men. Tamarak would probably engineer another cunning escape and Alwain would be angry again, and none of it mattered. Tonight they would be past it. Any attack on the plains beyond Great Howe would be suicidal. He could send a thousand men after Tamarak and there would be nowhere to hide. He would take the loss, minimise it if he could, but what mattered was getting out of these damned hills with the army intact.

  He decided to ride close to the front of the column. If Tamarak stayed true to form he would attack the infantry with cavalry, maximising his advantage, so Haliman would ride where he expected the attack. He would have reserves ready, men who were prepared to ride to his aid once the attack began.

  By midday nothing had happened. Every valley they passed had been deserted, every copse of trees empty. Even when they paused briefly to eat there was no attack. Haliman sat next to his horse and sent for a lieutenant from Great Howe. The man arrived with his lunch still in his hand.

  “Sir?”

  “Sit down, Lieutenant Karistan, eat.”

  The man sat and nibbled nervously at his bread.

  “What lies between here and Great Howe?” Haliman asked.

  “On the road? Well, Great Howe is lower, so it follows the river down through The Pinch, then out onto the plains. After that…”

  “The Pinch. Tell me about it.” Haliman hadn’t paid much attention to this section of their journey before, because there was nowhere the column could be ambushed.

  “It’s a bit like a gorge, I suppose. High sided, steep walls where the river’s cut its way back.”

  “And either side of The Pinch?”

  The man pulled a face. “Rough country, rocky hills, thin soils, a few sheep, no roads – it’s too broken.”

  That was it. That had to be it. Tamarak would be waiting up there above the road with his archers.

  “How can we send men up there?”

  “From here? I’m not sure. You’d have to go east a way. There’s a gorge running back from the road heading that way. You have to go round that. It’d take a day, I guess.”

  “But you don’t know the land that well?”

  “There’s nothing there, sir, just a few shepherds. No towns or villages for thirty miles.”

  Haliman took a bite of his own bread. He offered the lieutenant a cup of wine, which he accepted.

  So he really would have to take the losses. He could, in theory, stop the column here and send a powerful force around to try to catch Tamarak by surprise, but that would take time and Tamarak would know that something was up. Haliman doubted that he could surprise Fetherhill’s man. He would have scouts watching and if the column didn’t appear on schedule, he’d change his strategy.

  The young colonel had out thought him again.

  “Once we’re through The Pinch,” he asked, “can we turn back and get up there?”

  “Yes. But not the wagons. It’s a scramble up through broken rock.”

  That was enough, Haliman thought. If he was going to take losses in The Pinch then he’d make Tamarak pay for it.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. That’s all. But one last thing. Find Major Welgreen and send him to me.”

  The lieutenant saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Haliman sat sipping his wine, chewing on his bread, until Welgreen arrived. The Major wasn’t from Alwain’s regiment, but he was a Great Howe man. He’d know the land around here as well as any. He arrived on horseback in a scattering of dirt.

  “You sent for me, Colonel?”

  It was improper, Haliman knew. He should have asked Welgreen’s colonel, but that would take time and he didn’t have that much time.

  “I did. I’ve got a job for you, Major. How long would it take for you and five hundred horse to travel through The Pinch if you were in a hurry?”

  “An hour, maybe a little longer.”

  “Well, Major, I want you to do just that. There are a couple of hundred men waiting above The Pinch to shoot at us as we go through. They’ll shoot at you, but you’ll be by them faster than men on foot. When you get clear I want you to double back, climb up whatever side they’re on and engage them.”

  Welgreen smiled. “The same bastards that cut up our infantry, eh?”

  “The same. I’ll give you three hours, then we’ll follow you through, and Major?”

  “Yes?”

  “No quarter.”

  Welgreen nodded. The man was probably the best specialist cavalry commander in Alwain’s army. He would do the job. Haliman watched him mount up and ride off again. Now he would give the order. Three hours rest before they rode on. The men would be glad of it and Alwain would be angry again, but the explanation would calm him quickly enough. This was the right thing to do, the clever thing. He called an orderly over and sipped his wine, feeling quite pleased with himself.

  *

  Tamarak took a half step closer to the edge and peered down at the empty road beneath. Their vantage point was not ideal. He was a moderately competent archer himself, and it was difficult to aim down at the road without risking a fall. The problem was that the slope wasn’t steep enough. It had a convex shape that would allow men to pass by unseen if they stayed close to the near wall. He really needed men on both sides of the road, but it was too late for that now.

  “Maybe they won’t notice.” Ingris said.

  “They’ll notice,” Tamarak turned and looked back at his men. They were taking it easy in among the rocks that dominated this landscape.

  Rocks.

  He remembered Tilian Henn and the battle for Berrit Bay. Henn had used a rock to smash a superior Seth Yarra force. This was quite different, of course, but a rock could be a useful weapon. And he had plenty of rocks.

  “Ingris, see how many rocks we can pile up along the edge of the cliff – things about the size of a man’s head, things you can throw that might kill a man, or even a horse.’

  Ingris grinned. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  Rocks were perfect. If you threw a rock it curved downwards towards the ground, following that convex slope. You could easily strike at men sheltering on the near side of the road. He watched Ingris rouse the men, and they set about their new task with enthusiasm. He would make use of as much of the cliff line as he could. He had a mile or two and could roll his ambush along the tops as the column passed.

  But he was still troubled by the open country ahead. The river was no help. That turned east and made its way to Avilian’s central plains before turning south. There was another north-south road out that way, and Alwain could have taken that – would have if he hadn’t been set on taking Fetherhill back. The two roads came together about ten miles north of Great Howe at a village called Littlebridge.

  He had his escape route plan
ned, too. He expected retribution, so he would ride east, try to make that other road and then double back to Littlebridge and follow Alwain’s column, looking for opportunities to harass them. At some point, probably after Red Hill he would try to ride past them and re-join Fane at Raven Down. That was as much of a plan as he had.

  He walked the line of the road, looking down from time to time. He had men watching the road to the south, so he’d be warned well in advance, but he liked to know every inch of it, to understand what his enemy would see. He’d inspected it on the way south, but from up here it looked different, not like a trap at all. In fact it looked like a pretty place to ride, beside the river, in the shade of the alders that grew there.

  “Colonel, the scouts report dust further up the road. Alwain’s coming.”

  Tamarak jogged back to where his men were waiting, now with copious supplies of rocks at their feet. Many still had their bows in hand with arrows on the string, and that made sense. They needed to cover the width of the road. He leaned out and looked south.

  Whoever was coming was coming fast. Cavalry. Alwain was sending cavalry through, and they were coming at the gallop.

  “Ready!” he shouted. How many, though? By the size of the dust cloud and the building noise it was a good number – probably hundreds. This wasn’t the column, he realised. This was an attempt to get men through the gorge and out onto open land where they could attack Tamarak’s men.

  “Sir, look!”

  Ingris was pointing across the road to the high ground on the other side. Tamarak followed the line and saw a single figure standing at the edge of the cliff. It was a man, bearded, wearing a long, dark coat. His long, black hair was tied back, and he was looking across at Tamarak. He looked somehow insubstantial, like a figure seen through the heat rising from a fire. Tamarak felt a chill run up his spine. There was something very wrong about that lone figure, but the immediate problem called him back. The cavalry was only moments away. He could clearly see the leading horsemen. They were riding hard and looking up at the cliff where he stood.

  “Now!” he shouted.

  Rocks and arrows flew.

  On the road below it was carnage. Horses and men screamed. For all the dust Tamarak couldn’t see too well, but he could hear enough to know they were inflicting serious damage. He also knew it wouldn’t be enough. Most of these men would get through.

  The earth shook. Tamarak stumbled back from the edge, and in that he was lucky. About a dozen of his men fell forwards into the gorge. He lay flat, clinging to the ground as though it were a wild horse and the grass its mane. Around him he heard men cry out in fear.

  Tamarak had heard of such things, times when the earth itself shook, but not here, not in Avilian.

  “Lie flat!” he shouted, not knowing if anyone could hear him, or hearing, take heed. “Hold on!”

  It seemed to go on for an age. The air smelled of fire. It felt as though the ground itself was punching him. Several times his feet were thrown into the air and the grass tore in his fists, but he clung on.

  When it stopped, he lay there for a moment, not quite trusting the still earth. He rolled onto his side and looked. On the other side of the gorge the man was still standing there, still staring at him. He had not been moved by the rock’s convulsions. As Tamarak stared the man vanished, like a shadow in sunlight.

  He stood up and looked around him. Somehow, he connected the vanishing man with the unsteady ground and felt that they were safe now. He peered at the gorge.

  It was a gorge no longer. The floor of the valley had risen sixty feet and was now level with the sides. As far as Tamarak could see this had happened for a distance of over a hundred yards. Below him the river was swirling against this new, impenetrable barrier. It would soon become a lake, flooding the road southwards towards Alwain’s column. He ran forwards to the northern end of the new barrier and looked down.

  Alwain’s cavalry had survived. He could see them, hundreds strong, cantering away towards Great Howe. Now they would be hunting him.

  “Ingris!”

  “Sir!”

  Ingris looked in one piece. He had a scrape across his forehead that was oozing blood, but he was ignoring it.

  “Get the men to their horses. We have to get out of here.”

  Ingris ran off. Tamarak stepped out onto the newly risen land. It was bizarre. This had been the floor of the gorge minutes before. He could see the river bed, still slick with mud and weed, a single doomed fish writhing in the sudden surprise of air.

  The man had been a god-mage. There was no other explanation. But why had he done this? To stop Alwain? No. To turn Alwain back?

  Tamarak knew that Cain Arbak was following Alwain, hoping to trap him at Raven Down. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Alwain would have to turn south, and he would meet Arbak coming north.

  He ran towards his gathering men. Ingris saw him coming.

  “Sir, we’ve lost about half the horses.”

  More trouble. “Give me a count, Lieutenant. How many men, how many horses?”

  It took a couple of minutes. Tamarak spent the time thinking. Now was the time for hard decisions. He had to let Fane know what had happened, and he had to warn Arbak somehow. He also had to get his men away from here as quickly as possible.

  “Two hundred and forty-eight men, sir,” Ingris said. “One hundred and ninety-three horses, but we might be able to find the others. They’ll probably stick together.”

  “Pick forty men,” Tamarak said. “Twenty to ride north for Raven Down, but by the easterly road. Twenty to ride south and find General Arbak. All of them to carry a simple message. Alwain is turning south.”

  “And the rest of us?”

  “Detail forty more men to look for the horses. They have one hour. After that we’re riding. Those men without mounts will climb down to the road and head north, meet us a Littlebridge.”

  “On foot, sir?”

  “Alwain’s cavalry is coming after us, Ingris. They outnumber us and they’re better soldiers. We need to be somewhere else.”

  *

  An hour later they were mounted and riding. Tamarak calculated he had two hours on Alwain’s men. His messengers were already on their way, well ahead and riding the best horses, making a good speed.

  The lake in the gorge had swollen impressively in the hour they’d waited. It had stretched back out of sight by the time they left and must have been twenty feet deep at the new cliff face.

  They had found some of the horses, but Tamarak had been forced to abandon thirty of his men to make their way to Littlebridge on foot. Even on horseback Tamarak suspected the rest of them would be caught by Alwain’s men sooner or later. He preferred later, but kept his eyes open for a good defensive position along the way. There were plenty of possibilities, but the scattered rocks of this back country were too open. If they stopped to fight here, they would be cut to pieces.

  They rode up and down slopes, skirted hills, flowed through fields of rocks like a river, and all the time Tamarak kept his eye on the sun. It was his clock and his compass. He needed it to set behind him, and he needed to know when it would set. They were leaving a trail that any fool could follow by daylight, and after dark it would be too dangerous to ride fast. But there should be a moon tonight, and that would be enough for them to keep going at a walk. He wanted to reach the road by dawn. That at least would be a harder surface to read.

  He would change their direction after dark, too, and hope that if Alwain’s cavalry followed him they would overshoot his tracks in the night and be forced to backtrack. It was a faint hope. Over two hundred horses left tracks that could be followed even by moonlight.

  But if the enemy stopped for the night, what then? In the morning they would be rested and the tracks would be clear. His men would be exhausted but twenty miles further ahead. There was no right answer. He just had to gamble and trust to luck.

  *

  Haliman walked his horse into the water until it washed at his boots
. He could not begin to imagine what had happened to the road ahead, but it was plain as oat porridge that it was now impassable. Even as he sat there staring at the dirty water it crept another few inches along the ground. The road ahead must be flooded well above the height of a mounted man.

  Could Tamarak have done this? Were Haliman’s five hundred men drowned somewhere up ahead?

  “Well, that’s fucked,” Alwain said. “We have to turn back.”

  Haliman had an urge to say something sarcastic about stating the unspeakably obvious, but he forced it down.

  “A quake,” he said. “We all felt it. The earth shook. It must have caused part of the gorge to collapse, dammed the river.” His uncertainty crept into his voice. Even Haliman could hear it.

  “These plans of yours,” Alwain said. “They don’t seem to be working out that well.”

  “Nothing wrong with the plan,” Haliman said.

  “And yet here we are,” Alwain said. He rode off signalling to the column to reverse order, leaving Haliman staring down the flooded road. It couldn’t be an accident. Nobody was that unlucky. But he couldn’t explain it.

  He turned his horse and ploughed free of the swirling water. They would have to go south as far as Fetherhill and then turn east to find the open road north. He still found it difficult to understand why the castle had been abandoned. By all accounts there were enough men to fully occupy every fortress they’d taken. Alwain would have had to take each one in turn at a significant price.

  He rode up the column. It was reversing in good order. The van riding up the road and the soldiers standing aside as it passed, attaching themselves in order so that the column coiled through itself and emerged at its southern end in the same marching order.

  This would be a perfect time for an attack, Haliman realised. A small cavalry charge now would throw the cramped column into confusion. An orderly response would be difficult. He looked up at the hills around them but there was no sign of Tamarak.

  Perhaps his men had made it through The Pinch and attacked Tamarak. He hoped so.