Varna Ch. 12

This village didn't rely on fishing, or on wheat and barley. In addition to their pigs, and a small herd of cattle, Granje prided itself on its vineyards. They produced Anshan wine.

The location of the village was interesting, in several ways. First, it occupied a bend in the river; the Varna generally flowed from south to north, but here it curled northeast-southwest. South of the village was a stretch of their favourite pasture land, and just beyond that was Borovo ridge.

The ridge was not especially high, but it was fairly broad. The north-eastern slope, which faced the village, was fairly steep, compared to the much gentler south-western slope. Both sides of the ridge were thick with bushy vines, individually staked.

The first thing that caught my eye was the distance between the village and the ridge. Then I saw the vines.

- "Here." I said. "This is where we'll fight."

We made no secret of the fact that we were here to stay. Merik would soon learn where we were. I used some more of our stolen silver to pay for food, and warned the villagers that they should consider moving, for the next week or two, at least.

I climbed the ridge, several times, taking Gerdar Tanle with me, then Durgat, Yazgash and Murzosh. I had several conversations with Enneiros and with Naevys. In all of these conversations, I spoke loudly and clearly, so that Glasha would hear, if she was listening.

There was only one exchange that I hoped she would miss: it was a short conversation between me and her father.

- "Naevys is beginning to think that you are the Varyan." he said.

- "Oh?"

- "You show concern for the villagers. Nor are you preparing for a bloodbath."

- "It might be one anyway." I warned him.

Rhigen only shook his head. "I've known who you are - what you are - for some time now. You can't fight your destiny, Tauma."

- "I don't believe in destiny, Rhigen." I said. I don't think that he heard me - or perhaps he chose not to.

We had scouts out, to the south and east. They were driven back by large numbers of enemy horsemen.

- "It's Peneda, at the very least." said Sezima.

They were coming.

***

- "Explain it to me again." said my sister. "Why are we fighting here?"

I took Sanatha aside, so that we were alone. Only she - and possibly Glasha - could hear me. I explained everything that I intended.

"That's what I was afraid of." she said. "Tauma - why haven't you told the captains what you're planning?"

- "You think that they deserve to know." I said. "But if the wrong person finds out, and the enemy learns what we're going to do ..."

- "Spies?" said Sanatha. "Do you really think that one of them could turn traitor?"

- "Like Seyamka?" I said.

- "Oh."

Glasha and I had treated Seyamka more like a little sister than a servant. Yet she was still ready to send me to my death because she was in love with my brother Nathal. You don't know someone as well as you think you do, until they plunge the knife into your back.

Trust is a precious commodity, people like to say. I agree, in the sense that it should be doled out carefully, in small quantities.

- "Do you trust me, Tauma?" asked Sanatha.

- "I love you, San. If I'm wrong about you - or Glasha, or Saska - then I'm too foolish to be allowed to live. You're my partner - who else would I share my plans with?"

Sanatha's lip quivered.

- "You think we can win here?"

- "Yes, we can."

***

Merik's army arrived two days later - six days after we'd arrived. Peneda's horsemen demonstrated on our flank, to occupy our attention, while Tir Storum and Tir Alit seized the heights with hundreds of infantry. They immediately began to drag their cannon up to the top of Borovo ridge.

Many of our captains - particularly the humans - wondered why we had surrendered the high ground without a fight.

- "We can't simply occupy a strongpoint." I told them. "We can't remain static. That would make us a perfect target for their guns. I want them on the ridge. You'll soon see why."

I'd walked from the village to the ridge several times. My calculations always came out the same: Granje was just out of range of cannon atop the ridge.

Merik's gunners tried, anyway. The first cannonball ploughed into the ground, at least 50 feet short of the village. The next two shots landed about the same distance away, but bounced quite a bit further.

The fourth cannonball hit the ground a bit closer, and bounced much further, then slammed into the side of one of the houses on the edge of the village.

The fifth cannon shot was something of an anomaly.

The gun blew up.

Our troops cheered. I had no way of knowing what had happened: perhaps the barrel had a fault, or it was over worn. Perhaps the gunners overcharged it, attempting to increase the distance they could reach. Whatever the reason, it was a fortunate accident which cheered up all of our fighters.

Some of them, though, attributed it to me.

- "Oh, well done, Tauma!" shouted Tir Caenog.

He wasn't alone. Quite a few of our people - especially those who'd seen me kill Nathal - believed that I had used magic to blow up one of the enemy's guns. I just waved back at them; there would be plenty of time after the battle to explain that I hadn't done anything. Assuming, of course, that we won.

Merik's gunners tried a few more shots, but it was obvious that they couldn't consistently reach the village. We saw plenty of enemy horsemen, working their way around our flank, but they were only scouting our position.

After marching for part of the day, and then dragging their guns up the ridge, Merik's army wasn't ready to fight in the late afternoon. They felt secure, no doubt happy to be able to hide their superior numbers on the far side of Borovo ridge. If we decided to retreat, our enemies could pursue and harass us on the march with their superior cavalry.

As the sun set behind the ridge, I had a long conversation with myself - for Glasha's benefit. She would be watching me, and listening. She had to be. I told her exactly what I needed Alissara to do.

Then I called on Naevys, and explained what I intended. Humans believe that the fey are addicted to pranks and playing tricks, but they don't actually have much of a sense of humour. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that they don't appreciate human humour. But after I'd outlined my plan to him, Naevys broke into a huge grin, and even chuckled.

Finally, I summoned all of our captains. Durgat, Yazgash and Murzosh for the half-orcs, Enneiros for the elves. Tir Caenog and the five Gerdars: Tanle, Azren, Dergun, Ostro, and Sezima. Sanatha and Saska were there, too, of course. Naevys wouldn't have been comfortable around so many people, especially since we were all armed to the teeth, and bristling with iron armour and weapons.

- "You've been very patient." I told them. "You've also shown your trust, your confidence in Sanatha and me. I regret that we kept you in the dark until now, but we simply couldn't afford to have the enemy learn of our plans."

There was a slight but collective sigh from among them.

- "You do have a plan." said Dergun of Calep. His relief was evident.

- "We do." I said. Perhaps it was because I'd talked to Naevys earlier, but I'm told that I actually grinned at Dergun.

It was Gerdar Tanle who unknowingly set me on the right path, when she suggested that I concentrate on our advantages. The enemy had cannon and cavalry, while we had elves, half-orcs, and the fey. Superb archers, elite heavy infantry, and the mysterious folk that could turn themselves invisible.

Tanle had also questioned me when I'd said that we couldn't repeat the tactical surprise we'd achieved outside the walls of Whydah.

It took me a while to put all of these elements together. What did the elves, half-orcs, and the fey have in common. They were all non-human. And they all had low-light vision.

Elves can't see in the dark, but their night vision is at least twice as good as a human's. Half-orcs, though, can see in the dark. They can't see for miles, of course, but within ten to twenty yards, they're as comfortable in the dark as they are in the day. As for the fey, who knows just how good their night vision is?

Merik's army would never expect us to attack Borovo ridge. It was steep, covered in vines, the summit crowded with their cannon, and held by their superior numbers. Their greatest fear was that we might take advantage of the darkness to retreat.

Tactical surprise. An infantry battle, for the most part, which would favour our half-orcs. And another surprise or two up our sleeves for Tir Peneda, if we could draw his horsemen into the fight.

- "It's ... it's ..." Sezima was struggling to find the right word.

- "Madness." said Dergun. "Beautiful madness."

- "Audacious." said Gerdar Tanle. My mother-in-law smiled at me. It wasn't a rare occurrence, but her smiles were infrequent enough that I valued them all - and that one, on the eve of the battle of Borovo Ridge, I would treasure as long as I lived.

- "Everyone has to know exactly what's expected of them." I said. "Please ... talk to your fighters. Make it perfectly clear. Make sure that they all understand."

Sanatha and I went to the half-orcs, first. Durgat and Yazgash were spreading the word, but we wanted to assist them, since their folk would be leading the attack. Murzosh accompanied us, but we were perfectly safe; the Red Knees had a surprising degree of trust in the scions of the House of Cunedda. Many of them, it seemed, just wanted to touch us, to feel our hands in theirs, or on their arms or shoulders.

- "This is amazing." said my sister.

I'd always thought that Yazgash and her crew had only tolerated me because I was Glasha's friend, and so plainly devoted to her. Now I began to suspect that there was something more to it.

Enneiros and his elves understood what I wanted from them. It was remarkably similar to what they'd done before.

Our human fighters were more apprehensive. The darkness has its terrors, and our imagination conjures up greater threats than anything which actually exists. Most of the men we talked to were relieved to learn that they would only be called upon in the half-light just before dawn.

I left Sanatha to go on by herself, and walked alone across the pasture land until I reached the foot of the ridge.

Naevys was waiting for me. I don't know if he'd been concealed behind one of the bushy vines, but his sudden appearance scared the **** out of me.

- "Two." he said. "Human."

I was disappointed, and yet relieved at the same time. Naevys and the fey had spread out across the bottom of the slope. They'd caught two of our people trying to sneak up the ridge, no doubt to warn our enemies of our plan to attack at night.

- "Thank you." I said.

- "We will listen carefully." said Naevys. "If we hear anything untoward, we will let you know at once."

- "Again - thank you." I didn't ask about the two traitors. They were already dead. The fey didn't particularly value human life - especially if it was a person who was actively trying to do them harm. On this occasion, I shared that sentiment.

I walked back to the village, across their grazing land. The grass was short, but dew was already beginning to form.

Saska and her mother were waiting for me, along with Osha, the ostler-turned standard-bearer.

- "You should rest." said my lovely wife.

I drew her aside.

- "Saska ... if anything should happen to me -"

- "Nothing's going to happen to you." she said.

- "But if it does ..."

Saska grabbed hold of my shoulders.

- "No, Tauma." she said. "You have to live. We can't do this without you. I can't do this without you."

I was taken aback for a moment; she'd rarely spoken to me so forcefully.

- "I'll ..."

- "Rest a little." she said. "And eat a little, too. You may not be hungry now, but you'll need the energy later."

And so, an hour before giving the order to attack, I sat down and ate with my wife, her mother, and my sister. For many of our fighters, that little scene was strangely comforting.

I waited a little longer. While we were going to begin the battle in darkness, it was never my intention to finish it before dawn. Our elves and humans would need the light of day to complete the job.

At Whydah, there had been next to no waiting. We'd arrived, saw the opportunity, and seized it before my brothers could realize the danger they were in. But here, in Granje, I had to wait for just the right time. It was far more wearing on my nerves than I'd expected.

I was about to go into battle against my last remaining brother. Aludar was dead, and I would mourn his passing. Toran, too. I could only be glad that Nathal was gone. Now I faced Merik ... and I hoped that we could put him in the ground, too.

I drew on the aether, partly to calm myself, but also so that I could choose the correct moment. And while I waited, Shalla Cloudbringer, Goddess of war, sent us a gift. A great dark cloud covered the quarter moon, granting us almost complete darkness.

- "Start them off now." I told Durgat and Yazgash.

In groups of two or three, the half-orcs began walking - not running - across the pastureland, to the foot of the ridge. There they waited while more fighters walked over to join them. There was no hurry. It was a quiet, leisurely stroll over the short grass. I could hear the creak of leather, but there was nothing loud enough to carry all the way uphill - we hoped.

I went with the last groups. Sanatha had wanted me to remain in the rear.

- "You have to be the general, not a front-line fighter."

- "I won't be able to see a thing from the village." I said. "Gerdar Tanle knows what needs to be done. I think it's more important that I go in with the half-orcs."

Sanatha muttered something about my stubbornness - or perhaps it was my stupidity. Then she insisted that Osha go along with me.

- "Watch his back." she told him. "And if it looks like he's doing something stupid, drag him back down the hill!"

Somehow, we all made it to the foot of the ridge without hearing any shouts or challenges from up above. The fey had moved, taking up a new position on the lower edge of the slope.

I reached out to touch the half-orcs on either side of me. They did the same, reaching out to tap the fighter next to them. I waited, counting off in my head, allowing time for the non-verbal signal to reach everyone.

Then I began to climb Borovo ridge.

It was steep, and it was high. But it was easy to follow a reasonably straight line, between the vines. The half-orcs had no trouble at all, as they could see very well. The only ones who stumbled or put a foot wrong were Osha and me. Murzosh was directly behind us - Yazgash had designated him as an additional bodyguard for me.

They were going to hear us, of course. It was only a matter of time before guards up above realized what was happening, and sounded the alarm.

Originally, I had considered using the fey to create some sort of diversion. After reflection, though, I decided that it was better to leave our enemies unaware that we were on the move for as long as possible. Misdirection and deception have their uses, but if our foes were alert and looking in the wrong place, they could still react quickly once they discovered where the real attack was being launched.

Now I heard shouts. I could also see torches appearing along the brow of the ridge. Those were useless. The men on watch would have done better to simply trust their ears. All they were doing now was spoiling their own night vision.

My legs were beginning to burn, but I pressed on. The shouts up above were growing louder. Now everything depended on how many men were atop the ridge, and how quickly they could equip and arm themselves.

I was not at all worried about the cannon. They weren't loaded. And if Merik's gunners could load them in the dark, they still couldn't fire them at us: the slope was too steep. There was no way to depress the gun muzzles far enough to shoot downhill at such an angle.

It would be lovely to say that 350 half-orcs reached the summit at exactly the same moment, and launched a beautifully-coordinated assault. Instead, a handful of the better climbers, who had perhaps had an easier ascent, were first to arrive.

They didn't wait, but immediately attacked the nearest humans. The men holding torches made easy targets, as they were unable to see anything until it was far too late.

The clash of steel could now be heard almost all along the top of the ridge. I still had twenty feet to go, when I felt a big hand on my shoulder.

- "Wait a moment." said Murzosh. "They're going after the first humans they see."

It was good advice. My trembling knees could also use a respite. Osha and I tried to catch our breath as Murzosh watched over us.

A body came tumbling down the slope, head over heels, before slamming into a vine upside down. Murzosh moved quickest, but there was no need for his intervention.

- "Human." he grunted. "Already dead."

We had timed the attack well. The very first light of the pre-dawn had yet to show itself, behind us. Durgat and Yazgash had another quarter hour of darkness - or perhaps half an hour. Then their advantage in terms of night vision would be gone.

I'd recovered my breath. My knees were still sore, but they'd stopped shaking. I gathered the aether again, and then nodded, for Murzosh's benefit.

- "Let's go." I said.

We climbed the last few feet, onto the top of Borovo ridge. The sounds of combat were even louder, up here.

Except that there was something wrong. No - there were several things wrong.

There was no fighting going on within twenty yards of us. The half-orcs had already driven the enemy back that far. I'd paced out the depth of the ridge's crown: it came to seventy paces. From what I could hear, Durgat and Yazgash were pushing Merik's forces right off the top of Borovo.

That was too much success. I had anticipated heavy fighting. Instead, I heard victory cries from the half-orcs. It was too soon.

- "I need to see." I told Osha and Murzosh. We pushed forward.

I was right: we were able to walk another twenty paces, and then watch as the last defenders were pushed or chased off the summit. They slipped and skidded down the far slope (which was not nearly so steep as on our side).

The Red Knees did not pursue. They'd been ordered to secure the ridge, and to stay there until told otherwise. Admirable discipline, I thought, even though they were blocking my way.

- "MOVE!" growled Murzosh.

A path was immediately cleared for me. I stepped forward, and saw at once that I'd made a terrible mistake.

All along, I'd expected the bulk of Merik's troops to be on the ridge, or directly behind it. They weren't.

Borovo ridge had been lightly held. Two to three hundred men, at most, I guessed. The half-orcs had slain or captured a third of them, and quickly bundled the rest down the far slope - which was where I thought Merik and his chief nobles would be.

Instead, I could see little pins of light far off to my left - to the south. Torches? Or Campfires?

I started running, followed by Murzosh and Osha. The vast majority of Merik's infantry - and all of his cavalry, were positioned so that they could prevent us from circling around behind the ridge. They expected us to retreat at first light, but if we were going to risk seizing the initiative, they believed that this was the only option we had.

Now, through my own aggressiveness, our enemies were in position to sweep into the gap behind us, across the flat pasture land. Worse yet, Alissara's elves - if they were indeed doing what I hoped - were in the wrong place altogether. I'd outsmarted myself.