which
barges could carry supplies.
We had cattle along. The animals could sustain themselves poorly
off the vegetation. Those of us willing to eat flesh could gnaw on
their stringy meat. But we were just getting started here and
already I was convinced that Croaker had made the wrong choice,
attacking now.
Those soldiers who were vegetarians suffered terribly.
The morning wind had a real bite. This definitely was no season
for travel. We could end up in real trouble if Mogaba held us up
for long.
That might be a good strategy for him to pursue. Just hold us at
Charandaprash while all our forces came together, with all their
camp followers, then continue to hold us there while we exhausted
our resources. Then he could slaughter the starving remnants as
they tried to flee.
Though he never mentioned it in so many words, part of
Croaker’s plan was to replenish our army by seizing supplies
Mogaba had laid in for his. The Captain very much counted on
victory now, soon, however cautiously he talked.
He had put us in a position where there was no other choice.
The region around Shadowlight remained prosperous even after the
earthquake but already that was four hard days’ march behind
us. Our foragers were eating up half what they gathered just
bringing it in.
Longshadow remained unconvinced that our advance was for real.
He had a distinct problem imagining minds working differently from
his own. Mogaba entertained doubts himself though the Deceivers and
his own agents kept him informed of all the disasters to the
Shadowmaster’s cause. Few of the quake-battered towns and
cities made more than token attempts to resist. The Captain had
chosen his moment well, if emotionally.
Dark grey-indigo mountains spanned the southern horizon.
Charandaprash was just days away. The Captain slowed our advance to
a very deliberate pace so the soldiers would have more time to hunt
and forage. Our part of the army began coming together in larger
and larger forces. Mogaba’s cavalry did not seem much
inclined to skirmish yet. Ahead of us streamers of smoke sometimes
rose as fleeing enemy caravans failed to run fast enough to
outdistance our own horsemen.
Our headquarters party clung to the road. Always, now, there
seemed to be corpses lying beside it. They came in all varieties,
few of them being our own people.
Croaker had forced me out of One-Eye’s wagon. I was no
longer allowed inside while we were moving. So I led the way,
mounted atop that giant black stallion, always presenting the Black
Company standard. Crows were around constantly. I expect
Soulcatcher, wherever she took their reports, was thoroughly
amused. The standard was one we had adapted from one she had
assigned us decades ago, based upon her own fire-breathing skull of
a seal.
Uncle Doj walked beside me. He carried a lance as well as Ash
Wand, his holy sword. He had assumed the job of bodyguard while
Thai Dei was elsewhere with his mother. We two encountered all the
corpses first. “There’s another one that looks like a
Deceiver,” I said, indicating a badly hacked body wearing
nothing but a ragged loincloth, despite the weather.
“It is good,” Uncle Doj told me. He rolled the
corpse over. The man had been run down by someone with an especial
dislike for his cult. He had been mutilated badly, mostly while he
was still alive.
I did not feel a shred of pity. Men just like him murdered my
Sarie.
We encountered nothing but signs of outstanding success. But
those did not inspire my confidence in the future.
Roads converged. Forces massed up even more. Every hour we drew
nearer Charandaprash, Mogaba and his four badass divisions of
well-trained and motivated veterans. Getting closer to soldiers who
had been getting ready for us for years. Getting closer to soldiers
who were not the clumsy, indifferent militias that had made up most
of our opposition so far. The Old Man talked confidently in front
of the Taglians, who did not know any better, but I knew he had
barges could carry supplies.
We had cattle along. The animals could sustain themselves poorly
off the vegetation. Those of us willing to eat flesh could gnaw on
their stringy meat. But we were just getting started here and
already I was convinced that Croaker had made the wrong choice,
attacking now.
Those soldiers who were vegetarians suffered terribly.
The morning wind had a real bite. This definitely was no season
for travel. We could end up in real trouble if Mogaba held us up
for long.
That might be a good strategy for him to pursue. Just hold us at
Charandaprash while all our forces came together, with all their
camp followers, then continue to hold us there while we exhausted
our resources. Then he could slaughter the starving remnants as
they tried to flee.
Though he never mentioned it in so many words, part of
Croaker’s plan was to replenish our army by seizing supplies
Mogaba had laid in for his. The Captain very much counted on
victory now, soon, however cautiously he talked.
He had put us in a position where there was no other choice.
The region around Shadowlight remained prosperous even after the
earthquake but already that was four hard days’ march behind
us. Our foragers were eating up half what they gathered just
bringing it in.
Longshadow remained unconvinced that our advance was for real.
He had a distinct problem imagining minds working differently from
his own. Mogaba entertained doubts himself though the Deceivers and
his own agents kept him informed of all the disasters to the
Shadowmaster’s cause. Few of the quake-battered towns and
cities made more than token attempts to resist. The Captain had
chosen his moment well, if emotionally.
Dark grey-indigo mountains spanned the southern horizon.
Charandaprash was just days away. The Captain slowed our advance to
a very deliberate pace so the soldiers would have more time to hunt
and forage. Our part of the army began coming together in larger
and larger forces. Mogaba’s cavalry did not seem much
inclined to skirmish yet. Ahead of us streamers of smoke sometimes
rose as fleeing enemy caravans failed to run fast enough to
outdistance our own horsemen.
Our headquarters party clung to the road. Always, now, there
seemed to be corpses lying beside it. They came in all varieties,
few of them being our own people.
Croaker had forced me out of One-Eye’s wagon. I was no
longer allowed inside while we were moving. So I led the way,
mounted atop that giant black stallion, always presenting the Black
Company standard. Crows were around constantly. I expect
Soulcatcher, wherever she took their reports, was thoroughly
amused. The standard was one we had adapted from one she had
assigned us decades ago, based upon her own fire-breathing skull of
a seal.
Uncle Doj walked beside me. He carried a lance as well as Ash
Wand, his holy sword. He had assumed the job of bodyguard while
Thai Dei was elsewhere with his mother. We two encountered all the
corpses first. “There’s another one that looks like a
Deceiver,” I said, indicating a badly hacked body wearing
nothing but a ragged loincloth, despite the weather.
“It is good,” Uncle Doj told me. He rolled the
corpse over. The man had been run down by someone with an especial
dislike for his cult. He had been mutilated badly, mostly while he
was still alive.
I did not feel a shred of pity. Men just like him murdered my
Sarie.
We encountered nothing but signs of outstanding success. But
those did not inspire my confidence in the future.
Roads converged. Forces massed up even more. Every hour we drew
nearer Charandaprash, Mogaba and his four badass divisions of
well-trained and motivated veterans. Getting closer to soldiers who
had been getting ready for us for years. Getting closer to soldiers
who were not the clumsy, indifferent militias that had made up most
of our opposition so far. The Old Man talked confidently in front
of the Taglians, who did not know any better, but I knew he had
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