Sovran at War (Kingslayer Book 2)

by Honor Raconteur

  Each stop took hours, sometimes half a day, before he could move on, and if thousands of peoples’ lives weren’t at stake, he would have chaffed at the delay. Still, no one else would be coming into this area; this wasn’t a task he could easily delegate to someone else, as it would take too much precious time to get a messenger back up here. At least Behnam had already cleared out the population to the north, leaving only this much for Darius to deal with. Stopping at every single village and town in Madani would have taken far too much time.

  The first empty town they reached actually brought a smile to Darius’s face. Finally, the clear line. Behnam had done his job well. Relieved, he picked up the pace and rode the rest of the way without stopping.

  Darius felt a decade older as Behnam’s camp finally came in sight. Was it because he’d spent the last several days arguing? Sleeping on cold ground with nothing more than blankets and a campfire to keep from freezing? Some combination of both? Relief threatened to overwhelm him at the idea of sleeping in a tent and having a hot meal even if arriving here meant they’d need to pull up stakes and start their ‘retreat’ soon.

  Sentries greeted him with sharp salutes as they all rode through. He dropped to the ground a little more heavily than he intended, then handed the reins over to Roshan. “See to the horses then rest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Roshan said gratefully, already trudging away.

  Bohme attached himself like a shadow as Darius ducked into Behnam’s tent, absently pushing the flaps a little wider as he strode through.

  At his entrance, Behnam looked up from his seat, setting a report or message aside. The man’s craggy features lit up in a smile. “You’re back. How did it go?”

  “Amazingly well, all considered.” Darius dropped into a seat next to him, enjoying the heat of the brazier against his skin and absently gesturing for Bohme to sit as well. The man had to be as dead on his feet as Darius. “We did run into a few scouting parties, or maybe they were stragglers, I’m not sure. They ambushed us a few times but their number was never enough to threaten us, not even with their berserker tendencies.”

  “Good, good. Did you really get Serrati to agree to all of your terms?” Behnam didn’t sound disbelieving, just astonished.

  “And then some. They suspected that the barbarians were actually operating under the Sovran’s orders—”

  Behnam winced. “Great gods, I was afraid they might.”

  “—so they were very relieved to hear that we were actually under attack ourselves,” Darius continued dryly. “So relieved that they are perfectly willing to push the barbarians our direction so I can deal with them.”

  Snorting, Behnam drawled, “Quite charitable of them.”

  “Isn’t it?” Darius agreed in a matching tone. “At any rate, they’re happy to get more citizens, no matter the source. Did you realize that out of all our volunteers, none of them were officers?”

  “Not until after you left,” Behnam admitted, chuckling. “How did that work out for you?”

  Darius knew very well that the only person he had to blame for that oversight was himself. He’d been in too much of a hurry to leave. Still, the man might pretend some sympathy. “I had to do two field promotions.”

  “What rank?”

  “Sergeants.”

  Behnam flapped a hand. “I’ll honor them, of course. Did they all come back with you?”

  “No, I left them doing the last bit of mop-up for me. I expect them here within nine days. How has it been here?”

  “Still the same pattern so far. They seem intent on raiding and pillaging every possible village in Madani first before moving on. We’ve had a few scouting parties, a few raiders coming to test our defenses, but nothing as major as what happened right before you left.”

  “No major losses, then?” Darius asked, relieved to hear this.

  Behnam shook his head. “Not really. We’ve lost only 326 on our side. Nearly a thousand on theirs, which I take as a miracle.”

  “So we can sit a little while longer, wait for our forces to regroup with us?”

  The first sign of worry creased the man’s brows together. “I don’t think we’ll still be here in nine days.”

  Darius sat up a little straighter, his spine vaguely protesting the movement. “What do you mean? Has something changed since our last communication?”

  “Our plans are working a little better than anticipated. The Ninth Tower sent a message saying they’ve heard interesting reports from the last of the Landersi forces. They’re escorting the remaining refugees into Serrati and they’ve sent a report that barbarians have been chasing them. Not actively, fortunately, but still nipping at the heels. They’ve seen the barbs en-masse moving south. Serrati also sent a message via the towers that they’ve seen more and more action over the past few days. That was this morning.”

  Darius frowned. The Ninth Tower wasn’t that far out, perhaps a two day ride on a courier horse. “Then they’ll be here rather sooner rather than later. How big of a force?”

  “We still don’t have an exact number to work off of. My guess? Not truly large, not something that I think they’d attack us with, but we weren’t expecting anyone this far south yet at all. How many others are coming in that we don’t know about? Evacuating everyone is all well and good but it means we have no spies in the area, no reports on their movements except what the towers can see and report.”

  “I know, it’s an unfortunate drawback but I can’t do much about it.” Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Darius thought about this for another moment. “Is the Ninth Tower the only one to report anything?”

  “No, I did get a report from your two commanders. Ramin sent a report from the north that evacuations are going well in his area and he’s picking off Roran raiding parties as he finds them.”

  Darius knew Ramin was in the northwest area of Madani and nodded in understanding. “No word from him of a major group moving through?”

  “Not a word, which does make me wonder.” Behnam scratched a three day old beard and shrugged. “Commander Navid stated that he hopes to have successfully pushed the barbarians in our direction within the next few days. He seemed quite confident he’ll manage it. Doesn’t strike me as the type to exaggerate, that one.”

  “No, never,” Darius confirmed. “If he felt confident enough to send that message, it’s as good as done.”

  Behnam continued, “None of the barbs could get anywhere near Arape’s borders. Navid asked for permission to send some of the Night Raiders behind them, set fire to the carts they’re lugging, and I granted him permission.”

  “Good call,” Darius approved. Doing just that wouldn’t make it seem like herding, but it would whip the barbarians up into a little more of a frenzy. “What about the Baiji?”

  “Arrived three days after you left and have been remarkably helpful. They were the ones I sent out to evacuate everyone and have been kind enough to use their own horses to move people as necessary.”

  Darius blinked, more than taken aback at this. The Baiji only used mules or oxen to pull a cart with, never their horses. For them to do so meant that they truly felt committed to help people. “I am astonished.”

  “So was I. Your friend Tunheim left a letter for you. It’s in your tent.”

  Making a mental note to read that later, Darius dipped his head to acknowledge it. “They haven’t been making camp here, have they?”

  “No, no, that would defeat the purpose later.” Behnam studied him from the corner of his eye. “Bresalier. I know we need to start our staged retreat soon, but I’m not sure of the timing on this.”

  “Frankly, nor am I,” Darius admitted, more than a little sourly. “We don’t have a confirmed number of how many barbarians are coming, or their movements, only that three major groups are heading our direction. You’ve sent requests for sightings and information northward?”

  “I have, this morning. Still waiting on an answer.”

  Darius grunted, irritated enough that he
had to force himself not to growl. “I have never been able to decide which is worse. No intel or bad intel.”

  Behnam snorted, perfectly empathic. “I hear you. I’m personally inclined toward bad intel, because it makes you cocky, and comes as a worse surprise when the rug is yanked out from underneath you. At least with no intel you’re braced for things to go wrong.”

  “True.” Darius let his head fall back on his shoulders, staring sightlessly upward at the pitched canvas roof above him. “We can’t afford to engage, not really, with a major force. You say that the first group to reach us isn’t very large. How large?”

  “A confirmed thousand.”

  “Easily trounced, then.” Darius weighed out factors, debating with himself. “I think we can stay put and deal with them. Our position isn’t bad here, certainly not enough to warrant retreat against a thousand troops.”

  “Stay and fight that group, then retreat?” Behnam rubbed at his jaw with an open hand, eyes narrowing in thought. “And not retreat far, just enough to make it seem as if we lost something here, that they forced us back.”

  “I think that would work best for our purposes, don’t you? And by that time we’ll need the Baiji to retreat back toward the city, clearing out the south and evacuating people as they go. I’d rather have them closer on hand anyway, just in case.”

  “I do agree.” Behnam shot him that sideways look again, weighing, studying, considering. “Do you really think that we’ll be able to herd three main forces and all of the little straggling groups together in order to fight them in one battle?”

  Blowing out a breath, Darius responded wearily, “Now, that is the question, isn’t it?”

  Tunheim’s letter made Darius smile, however briefly. The man gave salutations, dire threats if anything happened to Sohrab, and then promised that he would get the people clear before any more fell victim to the ravages of war. Darius had a feeling that before all of this was over, he’d have to leave Sohrab in Tunheim’s hands for two seasons, not one.

  Neither Darius nor Behnam had all that much they could do except send messages out and make backup plans. He did coordinate with Kaveh often, being the only commander still in camp. Darius sent for paint, then spread the word through the camp about the success his other soldiers had with painting cats on their shields. Some were dubious (more than dubious) but others had been with Darius before when fighting alongside the barbarians. They knew precisely how superstitious that lot could be and one or two piped up, vouching that the fear of cats was truth. Kaveh especially advocated this, telling only a slightly exaggerated account of how well it worked in the Niotan-Sovran War. After that, the word spread, and within two days more than a few hundred shields sported cat-like figures. Some, of course, better drawn than others, but he wasn’t about to question it.

  Darius woke up the next morning, intent on finding more paint for the rest of the shields, as they had gotten very low last night, when a cry went up from the sentries.

  “ENEMY APPROACHING! FORMATION! FORMATION!”

  Swearing, Darius jammed his feet into his boots, grabbed jacket and sword, and dove outside of his tent. In the madness, he could find neither Kaveh nor Roshan, but Bohme appeared at his side like magic, already filling him in with terse sentences, “The thoushand barbarians, shir. Command Kaveh already forming up front line. Shaw General Behnam heading to front ash well.”

  “Do I have time to saddle Sohrab?”

  “Wouldn’t push it, shir,” Bohme denied with a curt shake of the head.

  Sands, he didn’t like that answer. But he needed the height of being on the stallion and his men needed to be able to find him quickly, which they could only do if he sat astride the white warhorse. Swearing, he made quickly for where Sohrab stood tethered. He put the bridle into his mouth, Sohrab eagerly taking the bit as he sensed that he might be able to kick people in his near future (Bloodthirsty? Or just wanting more apples?). Darius tangled one hand with the stallion’s mane, kicked off strongly from the ground, and got on bareback. Fortunately Sohrab had enough padding around his spine that it didn’t dig into Darius’s buttocks. It would be uncomfortable riding this way for long, and keeping his seat if Sohrab tried any acrobatics would be impossible, but for this battle he didn’t expect they’d be doing any fighting themselves.

  Bohme had to move at a fast jog to keep up, staying close to Sohrab as they weaved around tents and soldiers alike, making for the front, aiming for the area right behind the spiked wall.

  The morning dew hadn’t burned off quite yet, and fires still burned as cooks worked to feed people. Darius had slept in a little this morning, trying to recover from his mad jaunt, but he regretted that now. Dropping the reins, he guided Sohrab with his knees as he pulled on his uniform jacket, but let the sword rest across his thighs, not trying to put it on. Taking the reins up again, he stopped at Behnam’s side, returning Kaveh’s salute as the commander joined them.

  “Morning, gentlemen,” Darius greeted laconically.

  “And a fine morning it is,” Behnam returned just as drolly. Turning to his left side, he bellowed, “Fenton!”

  “All good, sir!” a tall, gangly looking man in commander’s stripes called back.

  Grunting, Behnam said to Darius, “Last battle I fought with barbarians, they didn’t do any sort of head-on clash, but tried to overpower a section and then went around the defenses.”

  “It’s one of the few tactics they use,” Darius responded, grimacing. “Likely because it normally works. You take the left, I’ll take the right?”

  “Agreed.” Behnam intended to say more but in that moment the first wave of barbarians came into view, cresting over the low hill and coming down into the slight depression at a run. Some mounted, some not, all yelling that strange high pitched cry that echoed over and over, sounding eerie and unearthly, like a deranged priest summoning a demon.

  Darius could see no details from this distance and yet he sensed that this lot didn’t have the same keen edge of desperation as the other barbarians he’d encountered had. Of course, this lot had just gone straight through Landersi, and the pillage in that country had no doubt been ripe. They were better fed than their compatriots, which made them cocky and even more dangerous than usual. Swearing to himself, he turned to his commander. “Kaveh, make sure the men with the cat shields are in front. We need to slow that advance.”

  “Sir!” Kaveh snapped out a salute before jogging toward the front line, a stone’s throw away.

  Not for the first time, Darius dearly wished Navid and Ramin weren’t out in different directions. He could use another commander to handle the right flank, just in case the barbarians went that direction, trying to get around the wall of shields and pikes. Nothing to be done for that now.

  A shiver danced across his skin, and he absently wished for a heavier jacket in this morning air. At least without the saddle he had direct access to Sohrab’s heat, keeping his legs and backside nice and warm. Darius narrowed his eyes and gave it another few minutes before the first clash. Daring to look away, he glanced around for Roshan, and found the boy closing fast on his right side with Tolk on his heels. “Roshan, Tolk. Go to the right and keep an eye on our rear. The barbarians are famous for their ambushing tactics.”

  Nodding, they both immediately turned on their heels and ran back the way they’d come.

  Focusing on the front again, he watched as the first barbarians paused, sizing up first the spiked wall, and then the pikemen. The spikes had been staggered to prevent a forward charge en masse. The pikemen, in turn, positioned themselves in front of those openings to immediately skewer anyone foolhardy enough to slip through the spikes. The wind ripped through, a constant wave of sound, whistling through the grass. They were outmatched, that was blatantly obvious to every man standing here, and yet they didn’t seem to be deterred. A raucous cry went up from all of them, building up in strength as each barbarian raised his voice, weapons shaking above their head. Darius swore to himself silently as they di
d so. Part of their berserker mentality involved psyching each other up, egging each other on, and if they screamed battle cries like this, they would not be backing down.

  Both generals retreated a little, coming back toward the center, which offered slightly higher ground and a good vantage to see the battle with. They would need to watch from here to know what commands to give as the battle played out.

  With a continuous cry, the barbarians ran forward, their maces and cudgels swinging, trying to knock the pikes aside so they could close in. Every commander near the front yelled in near unison to hold the line, don’t falter, hold the line! Normally the barbarians would ram directly in the shields, using their horses to bodily force their way in, but this time they shied to a stop before they could make direct contact with them.

  Behnam, sitting aside his own warhorse next to Darius, spluttered, “They really do avoid contact with the cat shields!”

  Cackling gleefully like a mad crone, Darius cupped his mouth with both hands and boomed out, “CAT SHIELDS FORWARD!”

  Choking, Behnam struggled not to laugh. “I bet you never thought you would say that.”

  Darius shrugged. “There’s a lot of things I never thought I’d say that I end up saying ad nauseum. ‘Don’t chew on the horse’ for example.”

  Giving him an odd look, Behnam asked slowly, “Who would chew on a horse?”

  “My daughter. She’s obsessed with getting her mouth on Sohrab’s tail. I have no idea why.” Fortunately, Sohrab was terrified of her and went perfectly still whenever the baby came anywhere within sight.

  “Babies chew on everything,” Behnam stated with an understanding nod.

  “Understatement of the century, my friend.” Darius didn’t take his eyes off the battling men during this good natured back and forth. He hissed out a breath in frustration. “The shields are slowing them down, but not by much.”