"You could do that. Or we could stop the Tauren from ever getting here."
Dante sputtered with laughter. "How do you intend to do that? Break the island in half?"
"Kind of the opposite. To reach Spearpoint, you called up a bridge of red-hot rock. What do you suppose would happen if you dumped that stuff on the Taurish army instead?"
"I can't do that anywhere. Most of the land isn't alive like that." Dante's eyes widened. "But the Dreaming Peaks are filled with hot springs. There must be melted rock there, too."
"Think we can make it there in two days?"
Dante moved to the door. "Grab your things. And make sure your sandals are tight. We've got a lot of running in our future."
Winden bent for her pack. "Two days might not be enough time to reach the Peaks."
"That's why you're staying here. Gather as many warriors as you can and lead them toward the Peaks. If we don't make it in time, we'll fight the enemy for every inch of the jungle."
She nodded. "Go. I'll see you there."
Dante grabbed his pack and his sword, belting it on as he strode through the sunny morning. Blays fell in beside him. As soon as Dante had his sword on, he broke into a jog. The path out of town was all uphill, but at least there was shade. At first he didn't think he'd last five minutes, let alone forty-odd miles of uneven ground, but he soon fell into a rhythm.
"Two thousand troops," Blays said, breath huffing lightly with each step. "That's a lot of men. Like two thousand of them."
"They always exaggerate the initial numbers. I wouldn't be surprised if it was fifteen hundred. Maybe even a thousand."
"And how many do you think the Kandeans can muster? Two hundred? Three, tops?"
"I might be able to cripple Vordon's army. But there's no way I can wipe it out completely."
Blays flicked the sweat from his forehead. "Vordon doesn't strike me as the type to lift his boot once it's on your neck. We need to be thinking of contingencies for after he makes it through the Peaks."
"There's a lot of ground between here and there. We'll make the most of it."
They alternated between running and walking. When their muscles declared there would be no more running, Dante used the nether to wash away their exhaustion. They reached the rope bridge on the way to Niles' temple.
"This might be a good spot for a stand," Blays said once they'd crossed over. "Though they'd probably just harvest a bridge across it. Or detour through the ridges there."
"Know where that won't work so well?"
"The Broken Valley."
Dante nodded. "That's our fallback."
As they ran on, they discussed logistics. As usual, Blays was a font of ideas. Dante picked at them, refining some and discarding others. They passed Niles' temple and crossed the up-and-down terrain to the Broken Valley. They stopped at its edge to catch their breath, sketch a quick map, and do some scheming, then crossed the ropes and vines to the other side. By day's end, they were more than halfway to the Dreaming Peaks. There was enough moonlight to see by, though, and they continued another few miles before packing it in.
Dante woke halfway through the night. He was so exhausted he mistook the sound of water for the surf. Which was several miles away. It was raining. Harder and harder by the moment.
Between the noise and the dampness, his sleep was interrupted a dozen times. By morning, the ground was absolutely sodden, the trail slick, sucking at their feet with every step, rendering it impossible to run. A sour node hardened in Dante's stomach. By late morning, things had dried enough to allow for fitful jogging, but they were losing time.
Up the washed-out trail, feet squelched through the muck, swishing through branches. Blays gestured into the shrubs. They withdrew from the path, crouching under the wet leaves.
A score of men appeared ahead, carrying long spears and longer faces. Niles marched at their head. His face bore any number of cuts and scratches and his clothes were filthy with mud.
Dante emerged from cover, waving his arms above his head. "Niles!"
The man reached for his sword, recognized Dante, then trudged forward. "You came."
Dante pressed his lips together. "Too late, by the look of it."
"They came straight to the Peaks. They outnumbered us a hundred times over. We had no choice but to retreat."
"There's no shame in not throwing yourself on the enemy's swords. Winden's gathering your troops as we speak. We'll meet her on the way back."
"It won't be enough." Niles grabbed his elbow. "Your ship's coming in soon, isn't it?"
"A few days. More than enough time to stick our boot up Tauren ass."
"You have to leave. We'll take to the jungle. Cure as many of our people as we can. And sail away."
Dante drew back his head. "You can't possibly be serious. We can fight them, Niles. And we can win."
The older man smiled sadly. "Heart and spirit can't beat raw numbers. You've already done more than I could have asked. With the Star Tree, we have the chance to live on. It just won't be here."
"Run away, if you think that's the best use of your legs. As for us, we'll meet Winden. And we'll make our stand."
"Why?" Niles crinkled the corners of his eyes, mouth a taut line. "This isn't your fight, Dante. It never was."
"You're right," Dante said. "Maybe this entire island deserves to burn down to ashes. Not just for what the Mallish did. The Dresh were slaughtering each other long before the invasion swept them away. That's how they lost the Star Trees in the first place. My people are no different—a thousand years ago, after decades of fighting, we all but obliterated an entire people. The history of humanity is the history of the strong killing the weak. The warlike killing the peaceful. It's probable that every one of us alive today is here because of some atrocity committed by our ancestors. Maybe there are no good people left. If there ever were any innocents in this world, I expect the guilty massacred them long ago.
"But despite everything, I'll help you. Because whatever your sins, the Tauren are much worse. They show no signs of an impending change of heart, either. Fighting them is our chance to restore some small piece of good to the world. And to finish my father's work."
Across from him, Niles' eyes were bright. He blinked back tears. Resolve spread across his face. "I don't know if we stand any chance to win. But you're right. We'll fight them. We'll fight to the very end."
"The Broken Valley," Blays said. "That's where we'll ground our spears. We'll fill the ravines with so many of their bodies you'll be able to walk across them."
Niles burst into laughter. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
They turned and headed back the way they'd come in. Now that Niles was into the spirit of the thing, he spoke professionally and analytically, discussing how best to hold the valley and stall the Tauren without exposing their own troops to the danger of being cut off on one of the plateaus.
With the land continuing to dry out, they made good time, camping overnight and reaching the Broken Valley the next morning. There was no sign of Winden yet, but with so little time to spare, they prepared to hold the valley anyway, tearing down the ropes and vines near its southern edge. The work stirred up a number of rodents. Dante dispatched two of them, sending them miles south to watch for the advance of the Tauren.
That afternoon, they moved to the north side of the valley to take it in as a whole. Most of the little plateaus were distributed regularly, but here, there were two clusters large enough to hold scores of men, while being close enough to the north rim to minimize the risk of being cut off during a retreat. If the Tauren were foolish enough to engage them there, the Kandeans might be able to hold them off indefinitely. Niles' men went to work on the platforms, chopping down branches and small trees to build barricades. Dante strung multiple lines of vines between each one, along with others trailing down the sides of the plateaus to allow for a hastier withdrawal.
"I'd like to harass them for every foot of the valley," Niles said. "But it won't be e
asy. We don't have enough men to hold a line across the entire southern front. The Tauren could climb down whatever part we're not defending, bypassing our skirmishers altogether."
Blays scratched his jaw. "They'll have two options: descend to the floor and hack their way through the growth, or cross from platform to platform. Either way, they'll be slow enough for us to outmaneuver them."
"They will have the numbers, though. We'll have to be very careful not to get flanked."
"We'll hurt them as best we can." Dante gestured to the northern cliffs they were standing on, which were far narrower than the southern approach, no more than five hundred feet across. "But here's where they'll be most vulnerable. Trying to cross from the platforms to the cliffs. They won't be able to bring their troops across fast enough to hold out. We'd slaughter each man as he came over. They'll have to hike up the cliffs, where we can fire down on them all the while. Will they even be able to get up?"
"Look, they'll post their archers on platforms near enough to fire back. We won't be able to shoot at their advance without exposing ourselves." Niles turned in a circle, surveying the area. "I wish we had some high ground to fire down from."
"What, you mean like this?" Dante nicked the back of his arm and plunged a swath of nether into the earth. The dirt swelled, raising five feet high. He shaped it into a rampart ten feet across and twenty feet long.
Niles' men watched, wide-eyed. When Dante stepped back, Niles laughed, smacking himself on the thigh. "How much more of that can you do?"
"That depends on how many days they give us."
"Say they occupy a platform with a hundred archers. Would you be able to topple the whole thing?"
"Only if there were no other nethermancers," Dante said. "If there are, they'll be able to stop me. Besides, if this battle goes like our previous ones, I think I'll be too busy negating their attacks to make many of my own."
During this, Blays had wandered off on his own, inspecting the cliff and the ground around it. He returned, smirking.
"I know that look," Dante said. "About to suggest something fiendish?"
"Barring miracles, we'll have to fall back eventually. So why not make that part of the plan?"
"To do what? Hand them a faster victory?"
"We'll hold them off for a while. But before they've got enough people up here to overwhelm us, we'll retreat. They'll want to seize the rampart at once. Almost certainly before they've got everyone up here. Unfortunately for them, however, they will discover they've advanced into a field of harvested candlefruit."
"Which we'll set on fire," Dante said. "Splitting them off from their reinforcements. We'll massacre them."
Niles brows raised. "That might win the battle on its own. At the very least, they'll have to regroup, giving us time to get out of here."
"And then what?"
"That depends on how fortune rewards us, doesn't it? If we're in good shape, we can press the attack. If that would be too risky, it might be best to retreat all the way to Kandak. It will stretch their supply lines while contracting our own."
Under Niles' direction, Dante expanded the rampart several more feet. Finished, he got a candlefruit from one of the men and grew a thick line of candlefruit shrubs in front of the cliffs. He kept the plants squat, heightening the grass around them to conceal them.
With a few more days and a heavy supply of shaden, he might be able to make the north end of the valley nearly impregnable. Then again, if he fortified it too well, the Tauren might choose to detour around the other side of the Jush Backbone. Dante had to strike a delicate balance between a defense strong enough to give them a chance of winning, but not so obviously strong that the Tauren would bypass them altogether.
That afternoon, a pair of scouts trotted in from the north. Winden was on her way. She had close to two hundred warriors with her. A small reserve remained in Kandak in case the Tauren tried any advance raids. She arrived within an hour. Her people carried an array of spears and bows, along with a handful of swords and pieces of armor.
Winden greeted Niles, then sized up Dante and Blays. "Then there was no engagement at the Peaks?"
"We didn't make it in time," Dante said. "Vordon's army is untouched. We'll have to break him here."
They met with the men, familiarizing them with the points of defense and the general plan. For the most part, the warriors were able-bodied, but few had seen combat. They all had some training, however—the last few months of Tauren raids had been good for that much—and many were capable bow hunters. They spent the rest of the daylight drilling, with special emphasis on quickly climbing across the ropes between plateaus.
As dusk neared, Dante's rodent scouts located the Tauren. They were less than ten miles to the south. And still on the move. He perched a rat beside the path, counting soldiers. Some were spread out through the trees, making a precise count difficult, but he believed two thousand had indeed been an exaggeration.
Fifteen hundred was not far off, however. A full quarter of that with swords and some bits of armor. Vordon walked near the head of their column, face printed with a self-satisfied smile. A few dozen personal guards, commanders, and advisors clouded about him.
"They're on the march," he told the others. "There's no chance they'll be here in time to fight, but their scouts may be in the area. They could be on us tomorrow."
Niles grunted. "They will be. Every day they wait is another day they have to feed themselves. And another day for us prepare."
Dusk fell. The Tauren walked on. He was sure they'd stop when the daylight ended, but they stayed on the march, guided by the trail. Another hour, and they were upon the valley's southern cliffs. There, scores of camp fires sprung up, studding the darkness with shimmering orange light.
26
Perhaps the fires were meant to intimidate the Kandeans, but Dante appreciated their cheery glow. They announced that the Tauren were finally making camp for the night. He kept one of his rats close enough to Vordon to catch snatches of conversation. Aware that the Kandeans waited across the valley, Vordon sent scouts out on the nearby rocky islands protruding from the ground, harvesting vine ladders to link them to the cliff.
He talked surprisingly little strategy. Either he'd anticipated a battle here and had already discussed it, or he thought his army was so much larger it didn't matter where he fought. By the time Vordon lay down to sleep, all Dante had learned was that the Tauren seemed to be planning to hack their way across the valley floor.
After that, there was nothing to do but watch the firelight flicker.
"He's right over there," Blays said. "Think we should take a run at him?"
"Too dangerous," Dante said. "Even if you shadowalk up to him, he'll be able to feel you. If we die before the battle, the Kandeans are doomed."
"I don't suppose there's much point, is there? Plant him in the dirt, and we'll still have to contend with his fifteen hundred friends."
Since the arrival of the Tauren, Winden and Niles had been speaking with the warriors and dispatching scouts. With this concluded, they joined Dante and Blays in staring across the valley.
"Morning's eight hours away," Winden said. "That means you still have eight hours to run."
Blays laughed first. "I'm afraid you're cursed to be stuck with us. The good news is that the curse might not last another 24 hours."
"I've never seen them in such numbers," Niles said.
"The fires always make an army look bigger," Dante muttered. "They probably camped in plain view intending to give us a poor night's sleep."
Blays stretched his arms. "We'll have to thwart them by turning in early."
He soon made good on that threat. Winden departed a few minutes later.
"I know you don't think much of us," Niles said. "But if we make it through this, you'll be remembered here forever."
Dante rubbed his eyes. "Then I'll try extra hard not to die tomorrow."
They said their goodbyes. Dante slept as best he could, which turned out to b
e better than expected. There were no alarums from the scouts, and every time he woke up and checked in on his rat, the enemy camp looked at rest.
He got up for good around three in the morning. The Kandeans rose, preparing quickly. Within twenty minutes, they were climbing across the ropes and vines. These were stretched horizontally, meaning the going was much slower than on his first visit to the valley, when they'd used the handlebars to skim from tree to tree. Now, however, they had several different lines, allowing the troops to advance steadily. As dawn neared, they arranged themselves on four platforms just out of bow range of the southern cliffs.
After their long march the previous day, the Tauren were slow to get moving. Sun shined across the rocky islands. With his troops arming themselves, Vordon walked to the edge of the cliffs and stared out at the Kandeans. It was too far to see his expression, but Dante was sure he was smiling.
"Is this all of you?" Vordon called in his Deladi-accented Taurish. "Maybe I don't even need Kandak."
"Feel free to turn around," Dante yelled back.
"I don't think so. I think I will walk straight through you, take your town, and kill anyone stupid enough to have stayed there."
Niles moved to the edge of the platform and jabbed his finger at Vordon. "We'll bury you in this valley. Your loss today will be your final legacy."
Vordon laughed and pulled down his trousers, waggling himself at them. "This will be one of the last things you ever see. Enjoy it!"
He returned to his people, who were lighting fires and cooking food. Completely unhurried. Dante's head throbbed from lack of sleep. They'd eaten a breakfast of cold san paste. At that moment, he would have traded all his other skills for the ability to conjure up a plate of hot bacon.
At nine o'clock, Vordon's commanders moved along the many tents. The warriors rousted themselves. Archers formed up along the bluff. One man fired a single shot, testing range. It fell well short of Dante's platform.
A mass of Tauren moved two hundred yards to the east toward a trail zagging down to the valley floor. Niles yelled to his people. Dante, Winden, and the two lesser Kandean Harvesters sent vines flying between the pillars of land, bridging a path to the east. Warriors climbed along them, supported by loops of rope slung over the vines. Dante queued up, among the first twenty to make the crossing. He grabbed hold of the vine and swung off the ledge, legs dangling.
The Red Sea Page 36
