Varna Ch. 15

It had to be a sudden lunge in a direction we were not expecting. Straight to the east, towards Calep, was one possibility. But could their cannons keep up? If they seized a town and found food, but lost many of their guns, that was still a defeat.

No, I thought that Kurebir would stay close to the river. Durgulel had to have found out, before he died, that the western bank of the river was only lightly defended. Tir Tanle only had 200 fighters there.

It would be soon. I would have to guess, and I had to be right. We couldn't wait for Glasha to find out for certain. By then it might be too late.

The eastern troops had been weakened by Moksha's defection, so that there were only 150 left. We entrusted Dergun with the sole command, and gave him the mounted men as well. Then we brought up half of the men who'd been evacuating the non-combatants. With over 500 men, Dergun could now watch the east, and empty Calep of people before the enemy could seize it.

- "We don't want you fighting a battle to keep the enemy away from Calep." I told him. "Nor do we want you to defend the town. Save the people first, and their food and livestock second. Buildings can be rebuilt."

- "I understand." said Dergun.

I left Alissara and Durgat to guard the southern approaches, supported by Hurmas and the men of the north. We also called upon Tir Alit, back in Elmina, to send us what men he could spare; he would have to rely on recently raised levies to keep order in the capital.

As for me... I crossed the river at night, accompanied by Enneiros and his archers, plus another 50 lent to us by Alissara.

Tir Tanle's scouts were watchful, and made contact the moment we landed. We immediately sent her a message. She arrived in the morning, with Tir Albo and over half of their combined force.

It came as a bit of surprise to see Talanassa Albo in leather armour, with her prominent half-elven ears tucked under a helmet that was too big for her head.

- "Don't say anything." she warned.

I held up my hands, palms out. "Not a word." I promised.

My mother-in-law had good news for me.

- "The mercenary garrison in Whydah haven't come out very far. We handled their first foray rather roughly, and they haven't tried to push past the burned zone since. We've had help, too: another fifty elves joined us."

- "Glad to hear it." For my part, I told them about events on our side of the river. They knew of Caenog's death, and Moksha's treachery, but not of Durgulel's death or Kurebir's injury. I skimped on a few details, because while Tir Tanle knew that Glasha could time-walk, Talanassa Albo did not.

- "You take too many risks." said Tir Tanle.

- "Sometimes, they're necessary."

- "I would prefer it if my grandchild had a father." That was her loving way of advising me to be careful.

I also sketched out for them the possibilities we faced in the next few days.

- "Unless I'm completely wrong, they'll try tonight, or tomorrow night."

- "We'll be ready." said Tir Albo.

***

I was wrong. Not entirely, but still quite wrong.

The mercenaries didn't cross the river that night. What they did, though, under cover of darkness, was to load men aboard their boats. Elves have night vision, but that doesn't mean that they can see across a river in the dark.

There was quite a bit of noise, and considerable activity - that we knew. But the enemy didn't come, even though many of us stood to arms all night. I began to worry that I'd made a mistake. Dergun and Hurmas and the others knew what to do, but I didn't want to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.              

They came just before the dawn.

Our first clue was the unseasonable fog, thick and low over the river. Then there were the dulled creaking sounds of muffled oar locks, and the occasional slap of a lazy oar. Human scouts might never have heard it, but the elves have particularly sharp ears.

The alarm was quietly spread, and our fighters began to rise and arm themselves. Most were too late. The enemy boats appeared out the magical mist when they were only fifty yards from the western shore.

I was there, gathering the aether around. Enneiros was nearby, with most of his archers, and Talanassa Albo, with two score men.

The largest boat drew our immediate attention. It was small for a sea-going ship, but bigger than any riverboat. There might have been fifty or sixty mercenaries aboard - and two cannons, pointed our way. I could see one of the gunners, and the slow match in his hand.

They fired first.

Four men went down, smashed into bloody ruin by a cannonball. One was still alive, shrieking in agony. The second ball struck three elves, all but obliterating two of them.

But Enneiros and his archers returned fire. With him were Virtoris and Loshaneth, the two finest archers in all of Varna, and Taerentym, the only elf who might possibly have contested that claim.

Three gunners fell, in their first flight of arrows. So did the elementalist, the mercenary mage who had summoned or created the fog. She died instantly - and a moment later the fog disappeared, as if it had never been there.

The elves loosed arrows at any man who so much as went near the two cannons. With that danger neutralized, I could shape the aether I'd called up into a spear. At less than forty yards' range, it was child's play for me to hole the large boat beneath the waterline.

Their largest vessel immediately took on a torrent of water. It suddenly listed over, so abruptly that a pair of crossbowmen fell overboard. I hadn't even been aware of any crossbow quarrels coming our way.

The enemy in the smaller boats were obviously dismayed. There were a few crossbowmen there, as well, but it isn't easy to shoot accurately from a platform which is rocking beneath your feet - while being targeted by elven arrows.

The attempt to cross the river failed - disastrously.

We didn't escape unscathed: eight men and six elves were killed, and several more were injured. But the mercenaries lost their largest river boat, and its entire complement: their elemental mage, two guns and their gunners, and all of its crew and passengers except for three men who swam ashore.

The enemy suffered further casualties in the smaller boats before they could pull back, out of effective bow range.

I didn't know all of this right away, of course. My first concern was for our wounded and injured. It may sound callous, but I was immediately relieved to see that we hadn't lost too many. I suppose that in some sense, one is too many - but you can't ask people to go into battle and expect that none of them will be hurt.

I was kneeling next to one of the injured men, who'd lost his arm, and was dying. Loss of blood would finish him off, if the sheer shock of the blow didn't.

It took me another moment, but I became aware that Talanassa Albo was standing behind me. I looked up at her.

- "You..." she began.

- "Yes."

- "You... sank that ship."

- "Yes, I did. I killed forty or fifty men. Would you have preferred that I let them land?"

I was being too harsh. After all this time, I was still too thin-skinned. Talanassa had never seen me use magic before. She was... in shock, I suppose, just like this dying man beside me. Dead man, now.

"I'm sorry, Talanassa. I am the Witch King, you see. It's not what I thought I would be, when you came to Elmina. But it's what I am, now."

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She found enough composure to nod, though. It was either 'I understand', or 'That's enough talk for one day'. Either way, our conversation was done.

***

Kurebir was a better strategist, or tactician, than I was. Despite his injury, he'd come up with a plan to befuddle us, and to create an advantage for his army. The attempt to cross the river was only one arrow in his quiver.

That same morning, Tir Beksha lunged towards Calep with almost 1500 men. They were on foot, with only a score or so of mounted men to act as scouts. Obviously, they couldn't outpace horsemen, but they weren't slowed by guns or supply wagons.

Dergun performed admirably. He slowed the enemy march with feints by our mounted fighters, while simultaneously using his foot soldiers to forcibly evacuate everyone in Calep. This was his home; these were his people. But he ruthlessly pushed them all out, along with everything they could carry, and every animal that walked on two legs or four.

Arvo Peneda did a masterful job of threatening to charge the mercenary foot, without ever committing his riders.

I couldn't have done a better job myself, had I been present. But this wasn't Kurebir's main hope - he hadn't placed all of his eggs in one basket.

With 500 men trying to cross the river, and over 1,500 marching towards Calep, the mercenaries had only six or seven hundred effectives facing our southern forces.

Alissara was there, with 150 elves. Durgat had 250 half-orcs. Hurmas had 400 men - and who knew where the fey were? It was an enticing prospect. Hurmas could overrun the remaining mercenaries, and capture the bulk of their cannons. If necessary, he could have sent for some of the 200 men behind him, ready to resume evacuating villagers, pending the outcome of the day's events.

Hurmas was tempted. But he was no fool, either. He remembered what I'd said to him, before I left to cross the river.

- "They're going to try something." I said. "I wish I knew what it was, exactly. But we have to defend against three possibilities. The river, the east, and the south. The last of those is in your care."

Hurmas also remembered two things I hadn't said. Kurebir was a master tactician, and the enemy wasn't going to win this slow grind, as we denied them food and wore them down. He also recalled something I'd said earlier: "we don't have to win a brilliant victory - we just have to deny them one."

My good friend hadn't been at Borovo ridge. Sezima had died there. Hurmas won the esteem of Bathene Esin and the people of Whydah, but the glory of our victories had so far eluded him. May all the Gods and Goddesses bless him, my friend chose wisdom over valor, caution over ambition.

It was a trap, of course. Kurebir had forty guns sited so as to take our forces from two sides if we attacked the rump of their army.

Hurmas conferred with Sanatha, Bathene, and Alissara. Durgat was ready to attack, but Hurmas chose to scout the enemy positions. At that point, the fey returned from a midday ambush.

- "Oh, you don't want to go there." said Rhigen. "They're waiting for you - guns loaded and ready."

Hurmas saved our army that day - by not engaging. Sometimes, the greatest decisions we make are the things we don't do.

Kurebir gambled that one of his three moves would succeed. In hindsight, it was a good plan. But luck was against him. The river crossing failed, spectacularly. Dergun and Peneda stymied them in the east. Hurmas avoided the trap. It was not a decisive battle, but it was a turning point.

When I returned to the western side of the river, we held a council of leaders. I praised Hurmas for his patience and his wisdom, and likewise thanked Dergun and Arvo Peneda for their skill and good judgment.

- "Now we all have to be watchful." said Sanatha. "The enemy are running out of options. They are low on food, and they can't bring enough up the river. That means that they have to get past us, one way or another. Their only other option is to retreat - and even then, they don't have food reserves waiting for them."

- "They may try to force a battle." I said. "Let's not be drawn into a fight, unless it's on our terms, at a time and place of our choosing."

That was what we said in public. In private, though, Sanatha and I were having a serious disagreement.             

- "Tauma, we don't have to fight at all. It's just like you said: we're wearing them down. Why risk a battle? You've always admitted that battles are uncertain things. Why take the risk?"

- "Because if they retreat, and sail away on their ships, there's always the chance that they'll come back."

- "But they've used up all of the money they raised." she said. "They even had to spend more in order to purchase food."

- "I know, San. But what if their financial backers decide to re-invest, in the hopes of seeing some return for the money they've lost? The next time, they could come back with a bigger fleet, carrying more horses to pull their cannons. More crossbowmen. More mages. And tons of food, so that we can't use the same strategy against them a second time."

- "That's... unlikely. Isn't it?"

- "I don't know. If the enemy retreat, do we let the people of Whydah go home - and then evacuate them again the following year? Or the year after?"

Sanatha hadn't thought of that. Her face fell.

"If we let them go now, Beksha will still be out there, with his claim to the throne. Yavantay will go unpunished. Kurebir will have time to recover from his injury, and to learn from what went wrong for them this time. I just... I don't want to have to face them again."

- "You want to force a battle - on them?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't want a battle at all. I don't want to lose any more of our friends, or shed the blood of any of these brave fighters. But I don't want them to have to face a second invasion, against a better-prepared enemy. I won't force a battle, San. But if the opportunity arises - or if I can create that opportunity..."

***

Kurebir still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

A messenger from Tir Tanle reached us, late in the day, after riding down the western bank and then crossing the river by boat.

- "The enemy guns are all by the river, Lord. They're set up in a defensive position, facing south and east."

- "Facing east?" That made no sense at all. "Where, exactly?"

The messenger named a small hamlet some six leagues away from us.

- "What does it mean?" Sanatha asked me. "And why a defensive perimeter? They can't really expect to draw us into attacking them there - that far away."

- "No." I said. "It means that the guns didn't move towards us at all today."

- "Why would they do that?"

I drew on the aether, to sharpen my wits.

- "Kurebir is sacrificing his firepower to gain mobility. His men can move much faster if they don't have to drag the guns." And it was that image - of men hauling on ropes, pulling those heavy cannon, that gave me the answer. "Horses. They're going to use the horses elsewhere. He's making a dash."

- "What?"

- "Moksha's treachery brought them a hundred horses - but they already had two hundred or more, to pull carts and guns. If Kurebir leaves the cannon where they are, he can mount 300 men..."

They wouldn't be a mounted force, of course. You can't put a foot soldier on a horse and instantly turn him into a cavalryman. But a mounted strike force - hobelars - could move swiftly, and then dismount to fight.

They would go east. Kurebir wouldn't send them south, where they could run afoul of our archers, elven and fey. It would be another dash for Calep, this time unencumbered by their guns and wagons. Peneda needed to be warned as soon as possible. Dergun, too.

The light was failing, though. Sending a message in the dark was a risk; it could go astray, and fall into enemy hands. Or if the messenger put a foot wrong, and twisted an ankle, the message might never arrive.

Tir Tanle had sent us precious information. Was it too late to take advantage of it? Sanatha and I hurriedly wrote a dozen different messages, and sent them off with some of our most reliable men. At first light the next morning, we intended to send more, to make sure that this vital information got through.

And then there occurred one of those little accidents of war, a seemingly insignificant incident which proved to be tremendously important - decisive, even.

The fey chose that night to go stir up trouble around the enemy camps.

They were our allies. In case of a battle, they would take orders from me. On occasion, I could request their cooperation - as I had the night I killed Durgulel. Other than that, though, the fey liked to wage war in the manner they preferred: the late night ambush, the elimination of pickets and guards, and the terrorizing of sleeping enemies. The fey struck where they chose, when they chose.

It just so happened that I was still awake, writing messages by firelight, when our allies returned from their night time mayhem. Rhigen came to stand beside me.

- "I expected that you would be asleep." he said. "Naevys thought you should know: there were more men out there than usual."

With those words, I was suddenly wide awake.

- "Eh? More? How many more?"

- "They were thick on the ground. Like autumn leaves."

- "More than usual, you said?"

- "We couldn't move between their camps. Soldiers everywhere." Rhigen grinned. "Of course, there are a few missing now, and the rest are all awake, running around screaming."

- "Where is Naevys? I need to speak with him."

- "All right. I'll tell him."

- "Now, Rhigen. It's beyond urgent."

If the fey had not gone 'hunting' that night - had Rhigen not stopped by, and had he not found me awake... Varna might have been lost.

Naevys confirmed what Rhigen had said: there were far more mercenaries in front of us than there had ever been. When I told him the news I'd received from Tir Tanle, he immediately understood the danger. He also immediately agreed to take his people east, to make certain that my messages to Dergun and Peneda got through.

I had no way of knowing it at the time, but that decision was enormously important. Kurebir had pushed a force of his infantry forward, blocking the most direct route between our southern forces (under Sanatha and me) and our eastern troops (under Dergun and Peneda).

The messengers I'd sent, before dark, never got through. Both men ran into enemy pickets, and were captured.

The fey were able to locate this new enemy camp, and simply circle around it. Of course, I knew nothing of this until the following day.

***

- "Is this the opportunity you wanted?" my sister asked me.

- "No. This was not of my creation. Kurebir is far too clever."

- "He left all of his cannon exposed."

- "Not entirely. They're sited in a defensive position, with a few hundred men. We could take them, but it would be costly. Perhaps very costly. And then how could we move them? Meanwhile, the enemy foot soldiers would be pushing south, where they could find food."

I'd known that the mercenary tactician had to do something to change the situation; I just hadn't expected this. He might very well have caught me completely off guard. But thanks to Tir Tanle and the fey, we had a chance to prevent a defeat.

At first light, we were up and moving - retreating. Hurmas and the men of the north led the way, followed by Durgat and Yazgash. Alissara and Enneiros formed the rearguard. We had 250 elves, 300 half-orcs, and 400 humans. We desperately needed a decent place to make a stand, and we absolutely had to make contact with our reserves - the men who'd been evacuating our non-combatants before the enemy could reach their lands. Tir Alit had also sent us reinforcements from Elmina.

Three leagues further on, we reached a hill known as Mehana, because of the old house that sat atop it. The promontory was high enough to afford an excellent view of the surrounding countryside. I climbed it with Murzosh, Osha, and Yazgash's half-orcs. Sanatha was with us.

- "You want to fight here?" she said.

- "No. Look east and west - they can simply go around this hill. Then we would be cut off."

- "Then why are we up here?" growled Yazgash. "My knees are sore."

- "To see that." I said, pointing north.