Part 41 (1/2)
”Maybe.”
”I know what you're thinking. The spook-pusher is getting antsy about moving in on Nepanthe. Keep an eye on him anyway.”Later, after the army had pa.s.sed Maisak and started eagerly downhill into its homeland, Varthlokkur returned. ”Nepanthe is gone,” he announced.
”What? Again?”
”Your fat friend did it this time.”
”Take it from the beginning.” Ragnarson sighed.
”He left her at Maisak.”
”Why?”
”You tell me.”
”I don't know.”
”To remove her from risk?”
”Go away.”
He didn't like it. Varthlokkur was right. Something had happened. Mocker had changed. The humor had gone out of him. He hadn't cracked a smile in weeks. And he avoided his friends as much as possible. He preferred remaining apart, brooding, walking with eyes downcast. He didn't eat much. He was a shadow of the man who had come to the Victory Day celebration.
Challenging him produced no answers. He simply denied, growing vehement when pressed. Haakenand Reskird no longer bothered.
Ragnarson watched constantly, hoping he could figure out how to help.
Kavelin greeted them as conquering heroes. The march lost impetus. Each morning's start had to be delayed till missing soldiers were retrieved from the girls of the countryside.
”I don't like it,” said Haaken, the morning Bragi planned to reach Vorgreberg.
”What?” There had been no contact with Gjerdrum. Vorgreberg seemed unware of their approach.
”How many men have you seen?” Haaken's way was to let his listeners supply half the information he wanted to impart.
”I don't follow you.”
”We've been back for three days. I haven't seen a man who wasn't too old to get around. When I ask, the people say they've gone west. So where are they? What happened to the garrison Gjerdrum was supposed to send to Karak Strabger?”
”You're right. Even the Nordmen are gone. Find Ragnar. And Trebilc.o.c.k and Dantice. We'll ride ahead.”
Varthlokkur joined them. They reached Vorgreberg in midafternoon. The city lay deserted. They found only a few poorly-armed old men guarding the gates. Squads of women drilled in the streets.
”What the h.e.l.l?” Ragnarson exploded when first he encountered that phenomenon.
”Come on.” He spurred toward the girls.
Months in the field had done little to make him attractive. The girls scattered.One recognized Ragnarson. ”It's the Marshall!” She grabbed his stirrup. ”Thank G.o.d. sir. Thank G.o.d you're back.”
The others returned, swarmed round him, bawled shamelessly.
”What the h.e.l.l's going on?” Ragnarson demanded. ”You!” he jabbed a finger at the girl at his stirrup. ”Tell me!” He seized her wrist. The others fled again, through quiet streets, calling, ”The Marshall's back! We're saved.”
”You don't know, sir?”
”No, d.a.m.nit. And I never will unless somebody tells me. Where're the men? Why're you girls playing soldier?”
”They've all gone with Sir Gjerdrum. El Murid.... His army is in Orthwein and Uhlmansiek. They came through the mountains somehow. They might be in Moerschel by now.”
”Oh.” And Gjerdrum had little veteran manpower. ”Haaken. ...”
”I'll go,” Ragnar offered.
”Okay. Tell Reskird to pa.s.s the word to the men. One night is all we'll spend here. n.o.body to wander. Go on now.”
He watched his son, proud. Ragnar had become a man. He was nearly ready to fend for himself.
”Thank you, Miss. To the Palace. We'll fill in the gaps there. Varthlokkur, can you reach Radeachar?”
”No. I'll have to wait till he comes to me.”
”d.a.m.n. Ought to take ages to cross those trails. How did they get through?
Without Radeachar noticing?”
They hadn't. Badalamen had, simply, moved more swiftly than anyone had believed possible, and Gjerdrum, unsure if he were attacking Megelin or Kavelin, had waited too long to respond. Then, thoughtlessly, he had ordered his counterattacks piecemeal.
Badalamen had cut him up. He had taken to Fabian tactics while gathering a larger force in hopes of blocking the roads to Vorgreberg.
Two days had pa.s.sed since there had been any news from Gjerdrum. Rumor had a big battle shaping up. Gjerdrum had drawn every able-bodied man to Brede-on-Lynn in the toe of Moerschel, twenty-five miles south of the capital.
Ragnarson had pa.s.sed through the area during the civil war. ”Gjerdrum smartened up fast,” he told Haaken. ”That's the place to neutralize big attacking formations. It's all small farms, stone fences, little woods and wood lots, some bigger woods, lots of hills.... And a half-dozen castles within running distance. Lots of places to hide, to attack from if he loses, and no room for fancy cavalry maneuvers. Meaning, if that's the way this Badalamen wants to fight, he'll have to meet our knights head on.”
Varthlokkur observed, ”He'll refuse battle if the conditions are that unfavorable.”
”He wants Vorgreberg. He'll have to fight somewhere. Us or Gjerdrum. The maps.
They'll tell us.” They moved to the War Room, set out maps of Moerschel and neighboring provinces. ”Now,” Ragnarson said, ”try to think like Badalamen. You're here, over the Lynn in Orthwein. There's a big mob waiting at Brede. The ground is bad. What do you do to get to Vorgreberg?””I might split my strength,” Trebilc.o.c.k replied. ”Hold Gjerdrum at Brede and circle another group around. If he has enough men. Gjerdrum couldn't turn even if he knew what was happening.”
”Till we hear from the Unborn, or the dwarf, we're guessing. I'd bet he's outnumbered. Gjerdrum's probably mustered twenty, twenty-five thousand men. But Badalamen's soldiers are veterans.”
Trebilc.o.c.k fingered a map. ”If he circles, he'll go east, up the Lynn.” He traced the stream which formed the southern boundary of Moerschel. It ran toward Forbeck and the Gudbrandsdal Forest, approaching the Siege of Vorgreberg, emptying into the Spehe.
As a river it wasn't much, yet it formed a barrier of sorts. An army crossing would be vulnerable.
Ragnarson joined Trebilc.o.c.k. ”Yeah. The hills and woods are rough in Trautwein.
The roads would be easy to hold. But that don't mean he won't go that way. He's never been to Kavelin.”
Haaken snorted. ”You think Habibullah and Achmed were sleeping the last five years? He probably has maps better than ours.”