by Terry Brooks
She could not afford to be afraid.
But it was too late for that. She was terrified.
Her eyes were suddenly heavy. The medication, she thought at once. A drug. Perhaps intended to keep her in line. But she needed to rest in any event, her recovery not yet complete. She would think about things once more when she woke.
Nevertheless, it took her a long time to fall back asleep.
FIFTEEN
Arraxin Dresch, first commander of the Federation army, assembled two companies of front-line soldiers in response to the orders from Ketter Vause, provisioned a transport, readied three warships, and set out for the Mermidon on the same day, as ordered. Even before departing, he sent a flit ahead to provide him with a more up-to-date report on the movements of the Skaar. Whatever lay ahead for his men, he intended to be ready for it.
He was a lifer, a career soldier with more than thirty years of service. He had begun as a lowly lieutenant but rose swiftly through the ranks to his present position, which he had assumed five years ago when his predecessor retired. He had fought in the Dwarf wars at the edge of the southern Anar and subdued an uprising of miners that threatened the Southland’s monopoly on the metals needed for making weapons and airships. He had hunted Gnome raiders in the far Northland when they began interfering in the shipping of goods to and from the major Southland cities, smashing a ring of pirates that had virtually shut down the air lanes north and east. His record as a commander was impressive and distinguished, and he did not intend to let it be sullied by some barbaric foreign invader. Another few years and it would be time for him to take retirement, and he wanted his career to end well.
As a result, he was determined not to be overconfident or reckless in his present undertaking. He understood better than most the risks you ran as a Federation army commander. He understood the value of being able to ascertain when to hold back and when to strike hard. He relied on tactics and experience to see him through the tougher assignments. He chose his subordinates wisely, and he listened to what they had to say, even when they disagreed with him.
So it was now, as his command vessel led his fleet north out of the Southland and into the Borderlands, flying just west of the Duln Forests in a direct approach to Callahorn and the Mermidon. He stood with his subcommanders, Croix and Pressalin. Both had been with him for more than ten years, and each of them pretty much knew what to expect from the other. Ahead, the day was sunny and clear, and the sweep of the Duln’s green canopy was bright with promise. They had flown most of the day yesterday and through the night, and now they were only a few hours from their destination. The three were discussing what lay ahead and what sort of difficulties or threats might be facing them.
“These Skaar can—how did you put it?” Edeus Pressalin was saying. He was a short, powerfully built man, blunt-spoken and aggressive. In battle, he had no equal, a warrior through and through. “Did you say they could appear and disappear at will?”
Dresch nodded. “So it is reported. But we have no firsthand experience with this because we haven’t faced them ourselves.”
“But they annihilated the armies sent against them by several Troll tribes,” Croix observed. “They must possess some considerable advantage to achieve victories of that sort.”
Tall, slender, and diffident, he was the more cautious and far thinking of the two subcommanders. To Dresch’s way of thinking, he was the perfect complement to the more fiery Pressalin.
“Because they succeeded in defeating a couple of bands of disorganized, undisciplined savages?” Pressalin dismissed Croix’s words with a wave of his hand. “A Federation command would have done the same.”
“They managed to get inside Paranor and destroy the Druids,” Croix added. “I don’t recall that Federation forces have been able to do that.”
“They are dangerous, and we need to think of them that way,” Dresch interrupted before they could start arguing again. He valued their differences of opinion because they approached problems from polar-opposite mindsets, but it was also sometimes annoying. “We don’t want to assume anything else until we’ve taken their measure.”
Pressalin made another dismissive sound. “Doesn’t matter to me if they can disappear or not. Give me a Federation phalanx with airship support, and I’ll blanket the whole killing field with fire and iron, then see how many are left standing!”
“Well, we have to determine if they are a threat to the Federation, first.” Dresch was looking out toward the first silvery glimmerings of the Mermidon. “Our orders are very clear. We are to defend the south shore of the river and not cross over. If the Skaar attempt to cross from their side, we can retaliate. But we need to be certain they have aggressive intentions.”
“Because maybe they intend to enjoy a nice holiday after coming all the way from another continent? Any fool could ascertain their intentions, Commander. All we are doing is marking time until they make their move against us. And they will. There’s no other reason for them to come this far south, no reason for them to have fought those Troll tribes. And I don’t care what their precious princess says about their plans.”
Dresch gave him a disapproving look. The way his subcommander was dismissing Ajin d’Amphere worried him. Pressalin clearly assumed a young woman could never be a match for him in battle, but Dresch was not so sure. He was a firm believer in never underestimating an opponent. If her skills in future battles were anything close to what they had proved to be thus far since coming into the Four Lands, she could be very dangerous, indeed. But he let his subcommander’s comments pass for the moment. There would be time enough later—in private—to address his misguided sense of superiority.
“How will we set our defensive lines?” Murian Croix asked.
“Line the south banks with one company directly across from wherever the Skaar have set their camp. Divide the other company in two and place half on each wing, far enough back so that they cannot be seen from the other side of the river—a precaution against any attempt to outflank us. We will hold the airships safely behind the lines, ready to come to our aid should the need arise.”
“But shouldn’t we be worried about who might come to their aid?” Croix asked softly.
Dresch turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“How did they get all the way here from their homeland? Sailing ships? Perhaps. But what if they have airships, too? What if they have warships equal or superior to ours? How do we defend against that?”
The other two men stared at him. “There have been no reports of airships, Commander Croix,” Pressalin snapped.
Dresch held up his hand to silence him and faced Croix. “Explain your thinking, Commander.”
“The fact that no one has seen any Skaar airships doesn’t mean they don’t exist. This advance force, commanded by a warrior princess whom you admit you think is intelligent, has penetrated deep into the Four Lands. By marching all the way to the banks of the Mermidon, she has effectively cut herself off from any retreat or escape by foot. How much sense does it make for her to do that unless she has a method of escape beyond retreating on foot?”
“Go on.” Dresch was experiencing a sudden misgiving.
“It makes sense for the Skaar to have airships waiting to carry them out, should the tide go against them. Also, they must know that we have such vessels. So even if they brought none with them, they will have commandeered some of ours by now.”
Pressalin nodded slowly, grudgingly. “I agree. It would be insane to advance against the Federation if they didn’t.” He paused. “Unless they have no intention of advancing farther and are only doing what they told the Prime Minister they would.”
“Even if that were so,” Dresch replied, “they could not be certain a third party wouldn’t attack them at some point. No, I feel certain that Murian has it right. The Skaar must have airships waiting in reserve.”
“Whic
h means,” Croix interjected, “we need to be prepared to neutralize them if they attack us. Because besides having transports, they are likely to have warships, as well.”
“Which also means,” Dresch added pointedly, “that we must find and monitor them in case the need to neutralize them arises.” He gave his subcommander a nod of approval. “Well reasoned, Murian. I am giving you the task of finding those ships and preventing them from acting against us. They are to be found and watched. Any antagonistic movement on their part is to be halted by an incisive and dominant retaliatory strike. Those are your orders, Subcommander.”
The other man nodded. “I will make certain they are carried out. Give me command of two squads equipped with diapson-powered explosives and you will have no reason to worry.”
They talked further, but the greater part of their plan was now in place. Dresch was grateful to Croix for thinking of the possibility of Skaar airships, but chagrined at his own failure to think of it first. He was reminded that Murian Croix was the logical choice to succeed him when he retired. Edeus Pressalin was too unimaginative and hotheaded to ever be first commander of the Federation army. Croix had always been better suited for the position.
At the same time, he didn’t want to retire until he was ready. But what if he was incapable of realizing when it was his time? What if his age was already catching up with him and he couldn’t see it? If Ketter Vause took notice of his failure to consider certain obvious possibilities, he might be forced to step down more quickly than he had planned. And he didn’t like thinking that the choice might be made for him.
After his subcommanders had departed, he retired to his quarters to stand at his desk where maps of the Mermidon and its north and south banks were spread before him and studied them intently. Given that the Skaar had annihilated two Troll tribes and the entire Druid order, anticipating what they might do once their army faced his was important. Their small numbers—somewhere around a thousand, the reports said—did not suggest they would risk a full-blown assault against even a single Federation company, let alone two. They would be woefully outnumbered in unfamiliar territory. Moreover, the reports received so far indicated they found antiquated weapons—blades, spears, bows and arrows, and the like—adequate for modern battles. Which made no sense. Flash rips and rail slings, combined with cannons, would cut them to pieces. There was no reason to believe they would chance so much by launching an attack on a superior and better-equipped force.
On the other hand, they had somehow gotten through Paranor’s considerable defenses—past walls and gates and wards of magic—to destroy virtually all the Druids within the Keep. They had essentially wiped the Druids and their order off the face of the Four Lands. Even Druid magic had not been enough to stop them.
It was troubling beyond words.
Dresch stepped away from the maps. He was going to have to be very careful in the days ahead.
* * *
—
The Federation command had arrived to establish camp across the Mermidon from the Skaar at midday of the previous day—a day after Ajin herself had returned from Arborlon. Now, as twilight was approaching and the Federation soldiers were once again preparing to settle in for the night, the Skaar princess stood with Kol’Dre on a rise to the north, less than a mile across from the other encampment, studying its impressive sprawl. The smells of cooking drifted in on the back of a warm south wind, and the shadowy figures of the soldiers were visible as they passed between tents and patches of firelight, busy at their tasks, seemingly heedless of the Skaar advance force.
Ajin was satisfied to leave it that way. She wanted them to think little or nothing of what the Skaar might be up to—less still of any potential danger. They should lose interest as routine and familiarity blunted the edges of their caution. She wanted them overconfident. They would begin to decide that nothing was going to happen, that this was a preventive action and the Skaar were doing exactly what Ajin had told Ketter Vause they intended to do. The Skaar had arrived and taken a defensive position, and any difficulties with the Federation would be settled by negotiation—by words rather than weapons.
After all, theirs was the strongest army in all the Four Lands, and what sense did it make to offer a challenge with so few aggressors? The Skaar numbered less than a thousand, and the contingent of Federation soldiers dispatched to keep an eye on them numbered more than twice that. Plus the Federation had warships and advanced diapson-crystal-powered weapons. Alone in the middle of enemy territory and facing a seasoned command, why would the Skaar even think of tempting fate by provoking an armed response? Only a fool poked a sleeping bear with a sharp stick.
An old bromide. But Ajin had never been one for bromides.
Yes, she wanted them confident and complacent for a few short hours. And then she wanted them angry and confused. Because frightened, confused men made mistakes.
“Are you ready, Kol’Dre?” she asked him. He had arrived back in camp the same day she had, albeit a bit later.
“Of course,” he answered impatiently, a hint of reproof in his voice.
“Patience in all things. It was you who taught me that. Now, then, I want it done while they still think nothing is going to happen.”
He nodded. “Are you sure about this, Ajin? Once we do this, there is no going back. They’ll respond with everything they’ve got—and we don’t have the full army behind us yet.”
Ajin considered for a moment. It was a risk, striking at them like this. A big risk. But if they succeeded—which she was certain in her Ajin fashion they would—it would leave the Federation hierarchy deeply unsure about what it could expect its army to achieve in an all-out battle against the Skaar, and open up new possibilities for negotiations.
“If you do what you are supposed to, we won’t need my father’s intervention. By the time my father arrives, I will be in complete control of the situation. He would never consider dismissing me then, even with Paranor lost. Sten’Or will look like a fool.”
“Sten’Or has his ear, Ajin,” he said quietly. “Your father’s man, his spy in your camp. I wouldn’t be so sure of this.”
She gave him a look. “My father’s man? I don’t think so. The pretender’s? Most definitely. Besides, things might not be entirely as Sten’Or believes them.”
She skipped right past any attempt at an explanation. “I am entrusting you with our future, Kol’Dre. Am I right to do so?”
His look was dark and angry. “How can you even ask me that?”
She shrugged. “Because I worry. Too often you have to play the chameleon, Penetrator, and even I am not always sure of your true feelings. That girl, the one at Paranor. Allis. She caught your eye, didn’t she? You thought I didn’t know, but I did. I know everything about you, Kol’Dre. I had once thought you loved me. Now I wonder.”
She watched him squirm—just as she had intended. “I do love you!” he insisted. “You know I always have. But it is hard to feel as I do and know it will never come to anything. So, yes, I was tempted. But it was only momentary. I killed her in the end, didn’t I? I know where I belong. I know who my people are.”
Cleverly said, Ajin thought. But how truthful was he being? Did even he know? Time to offer him an inducement. “There are other ways you can be with me,” she said quietly, offering him a glimmer of hope.
He stared, surprised. “You have never said so before.”
“Some things take longer than others. I have cared for you all along, Kol. You must have sensed that in the way I treated you. I did not take you to my bed because I did not want our relationship to change. And perhaps I was cruel in not doing so, especially when inviting so many others. But you are my favorite. You always have been.”
He shook his head. “I wish I could believe that.”
“Oh, so now I need to prove myself?” she snapped. When he started to protest, she gave him a hard shove. Let him sq
uirm a little more. “No, don’t deny it. You want to see proof of how I feel about you, but you’ll just have to wait. I do care for you, and I don’t want to feel any doubt about that reliance. And I need to be sure you can stay loyal to me, no matter what. I need to know, too, that in this one instance particularly—in this place and time—you will stay strong and do what you have said you will.”
He studied her a moment. “This is about your father, isn’t it? When he arrives, you want to know if I will still stand with you or side with him. Am I correct?”
She kept her expression neutral with considerable effort. “No. This is about you and me, Kol. This is about how the rest of this campaign is going to turn out. I have already suffered betrayal from Sten’Or, who goes behind my back to involve my father and bring me to heel. I am merely a woman, of course—young and weak and callow. Don’t I need minding? Many still think so—from either misguided concern or jealousy at my success. I know this is true. And so do you.
“So, if I cannot depend on you to treat me differently—as an equal at the very least—I need to know. This is my life we are talking about. And your eyes have wandered once already on this expedition. I want to know it won’t happen again. I want to know you will stand by me every time I am threatened, even if it means your own life might be at risk. I am alone, Kol. My soldiers are loyal, but not at the expense of defying my father. You are the only close friend I have and the only one I trust. So tell me. Am I mistaken to think so?”
Kol’Dre stared at her for a long moment, and then he dropped to one knee, keeping his gaze on her face. “You are not mistaken. Not now, or before. I will never betray or abandon you, Ajin—not even if it means defying your father. Not even if it costs me my life.”
