Battledragon (26 page)

The witch Endysia and Admiral Cranx were the other participants. They sympathized with the young generals' anxiety, but they had their own agendas.

"It's natural enough with ten thousand men standing on a foreign land," said Endysia in her most mother-henlike manner.

"Things will settle down once we get on our way," Cranx chimed in. "My experience in these matters, limited of course when it comes to missions on land, has always followed a similar pattern. At first it seems impossible, and the path ahead appears choked with dangerous possibilities. Still you must go on, and as you do, gradually the fear subsides."

Baxander and Steenhur looked at the old admiral. Such platitudes were all very well for him, he was leaving the scene, to sit off the coast in a frigate and direct the white fleet as it continued with the various aspects of its mission.

"These things will seem less troublesome in a few days as we get into the habits of the campaign," said Endysia. "I hope we can begin to move tomorrow." Baxander looked to Steenhur. This was not to their way of thinking. He coughed and cleared his throat.

"While I, too, wish to begin our march inland, I must insist on the completion and proper fortification of our fort here. We must have a strong anchor to fall back on."

Endysia arched her eyebrows. In fact, she had heard exactly to the contrary from Lessis. It was imperative to march the column straight inland to Koubha.

She remembered Lessis's words quite clearly.

"Keep them moving, Endysia. Don't let them stop and dig in. We're going halfway across this continent eventually; we can't build forts all that way."

Endysia kept her gaze steady. "We must get to Koubha as soon as possible."

"Ah, yes," said Steenhur. "Koubha. Koubha, as you know, is a hundred miles inland. We must gather a lot of provisions before we can attempt such a march."

Endysia suppressed a critical response. They would be traveling more than a thousand miles into the interior, mostly on the great river. They would live off the land. It was time for Steenhur to get used to that idea. Still, these men were grappling with the tremendous burden of responsibilities that came with command of the expedition, and Endysia knew she must make allowances for that. They would come around soon enough, they had been carefully chosen.

"I know that Lessis would beg you to accelerate your plans. Any delay could be fatal to King Choulaput."

"Ah, the Lady Lessis," said Baxander. "I have been asking myself where she might be. I was told that she would be here with intelligence concerning the situation inland. Instead, I find myself with virtually no intelligence except that brought me by my own scouts."

"The Lord Tagut is certain that there are no enemy forces directly in front of us. Nothing until we reach the Great Scarp in all likelihood."

"Can we really trust this Tagut?" said Steenhur.

"I can see no reason not to."

"But where is Lessis; when will we see her?"

"As to that, General, I cannot say. I believe she is in the Impalo country. She intended to go even farther, to the Ramparts themselves."

"The Ramparts of the Sun?" said Steenhur uncertainly.

"And beyond them, to the unknown forests and the inland sea."

"I've heard that it is haunted by demons, a place of terror, so they say."

"So they say," responded Endysia, "but we are going there, General, to bring an end to this new terror."

"Well, I just wish we had some solid information about what we're facing."

There came a short call on a cornet outside the tent. An aide put his head in.

"The Count of Felk-Habren is here to see you, sir."

"Ah, the count. Show him in." Baxander grinned internally. Now the witch could see for herself what he had to contend with.

A large man wearing chain mail under a pale blue silken blouse marched in and crashed to a halt with a clenched fist salute and a guttural cry in Demmener.

The front of his blue blouse bore the heraldic rampant lion and three blackbirds of the house of Felk-Habren. On his right hand he wore the massive amethyst known as the lion stone; on his left hand he wore three massive gold rings with black pearls.

Count Trego Felk-Habren was the titular leader of the Czardhan forces in Bogon. However, his was far from a solidified command. The knights were grouped in "battles" from the many small Czardhan states. There were many enmities between the states. The men of Hentilden could scarcely be made to cooperate with those of the Trucial States for instance. Indeed, the Trucial States were generally unpopular, but they were wealthy, and Felk-Habren, despite its small size, was one of the wealthiest of all, and thus the count was titular commander of the force.

Count Trego was a fairly typical representative of his breed. Tall, good-looking, with a long straight nose and full red lips. His eyes were a washed-out blue, and his hair was so pale it was almost silver. On his right cheek he wore the scars of saber dueling, a passion among the young men of the Czardhan aristocracy. He was prickly, arrogant, and incredibly ignorant of just about everything beyond the minutiae of the aristocratic hierarchy of Czardha. Thus he knew to within a fraction of a degree who was of higher rank within the knights by virtue of family longevity or size of landholdings, but he knew nothing of Og Bogon or Eigo. He had agreed to come on the great mission because of the urging of his liege lord, King Federio of Lankessan. It would be an opportunity to win much glory and even to gain a fief, perhaps in Gazin. For honor and a fresh fief, he had come and he had become impatient with the long delays. He knew little about the Empire of the Rose except that it was reputed to be run by women, a concept that all Czardhans found inherently amazing. ,

Still, Count Trego had found it possible to work with General Baxander. Trego spoke good Verio, the tongue of the Argonath and Cunfshon. Because of its great literature and its use as the language of science and engineering, Verio was a popular tongue among the elites of court in the Trucial States. Baxander had spent quite some time in conversation with Count Trego. In the weeks before the main fleet arrived, the two of them had worked out a method of operations that suited the count and the rest of the Czardhans.

In effect, Baxander ignored the Czardhans and made no calls on them for anything. Baxander and his thousand engineers and support staff had an enormous amount to do and only a few months in which to do it. Setting up the logistics in Bogon for the feeding of eleven to twelve thousand men, plus a thousand horses and eighty behemothic eating machines called battledragons was a colossal task. Just getting the thousands of carts built and the oxen to haul them had been a major undertaking. General Baxander now knew to a nicety the prices of oxen in every major market in Bogon.

The Czardhans, endlessly prickly about honor and precedent, were of little use in such matters. Their own supply problems were immense, in part because of their tendency to be late in paying for deliveries of food and hay. So bad was their situation that Baxander had factored in a huge store of emergency food supplies since he visualized having to feed them, anyway, when the time came.

Count Trego had never understood that Baxander had simply left him alone. Trego believed that he had merely been afforded the respect due him. Baxander had no title and thus must be considered a commoner and therefore not of the same social standing as the Count of Felk-Habren. Baxander's small force were busy providing services, that had been enough for Count Trego.

The situation had changed, however, and dramatically. Since the white fleet had landed and disgorged eleven thousand men, horses, and dragons, the Czardhan leaders felt under a severe psychological pressure. They were now the junior partners in the alliance and this brought massive uncertainties regarding the proper respect and deference to hierarchical norms. Such uncertainties were highly disturbing to the Czardhan mind.

These doubts were the source of the reserved tone and pensive expression on the count's face.

"Count Trego, may I present General Steenhur, my second in command." Steenhur saluted. The count repeated his clenched fist and a few words of his native tongue.

"Admiral Cranx, commander of the white fleet"—again the clenched fist.

"And the witch Endysia."

The count stared. Was this some kind of low joke? An incredibly plain and unattractive woman was being presented to him.

There was a long silence as he struggled to understand and failing in that he colored.

"What insult is this?" he stammered in Demmener.

The woman was dressed like a peasant, in plain white woolen robe and a grey shirt or smock. She wore sandals, and her feet were bare and exposed! The count swallowed heavily. Never in all his life had such a creature been presented to him. Did they mock him? His face purpled.

Endysia bowed and smiled at him. Then spoke in Demmener.

"I am honored to meet you, Count. Felk-Habren is spoken of in my order as a place of great honor, home to men of courage."

It was like being struck over the head with a mallet. Count Trego was taken utterly aback. He groped, and his face lost the purple tone. He realized he was being completely graceless.

"Ah, I, uh, thank you, uh, witch, for your words. You speak our tongue well."

"I have studied it for several years now. I enjoyed reading the
Lays of Medon
. They are beautifully written."

Count Trego swallowed. He himself had never read all the
Lays of Medon
, only the most popular parts. His sense of astonishment was now complete.

On the principle of striking when the foe is confused, Baxander broke in.

"Count, we are considering how soon to begin the march inland. What are your views?"

Count Trego was caught between purple fury and his desire to speak his piece. After an inarticulate moment his desire to speak won.

"Armph, harrumph!" he began. "Truly your ways are different from those of the High States. Allowances must be made, I suppose. As to your question, I can assure you that we are all most anxious to move immediately to get to grips with the enemy. The sooner the better. We have been in this pestilential land for far too long already."

Endysia spoke quickly. "It is wonderful to hear that the warriors of Czardha are ready, for we must indeed prepare to leave as soon as possible."

Count Trego stared at the woman again. The woman had spoken of military affairs, in front of these men, and they did not rebuke her!

"I find it surprising that a woman speaks to us in such a way." His eyes snapped blue fire.

Endysia did not flinch.

"Many women serve the Empire of the Rose in all its actions. We have not disgraced our sex by doing so."

The count blinked.

"Among us the women are not involved in such matters as the movements of armies. The women remain in the home and take care of the children and are subordinate in every way to our men."

Endysia smiled politely. "In the Empire of the Rose, men and women are equal in every area of life except service in the front lines of the legions."

"That is quite preposterous. Women cannot think about such matters as war!"

"On the contrary, Count, let me assure you that women can and do think about such things."

The count was about to explode, when there was a loud call on the cornet. An aide put his head inside to whisper to Baxander, whose jaw dropped.

"By the breath, show her in."

He looked up, and his eyes met those of Endysia.

The tent flap opened and Lessis of Valmes walked in, accompanied by Lagdalen of the Tarcho.

The count was stunned. Here were more women, in even humbler garb. The older one, a completely drab, poverty-stricken figure whose lined face and lank hair spoke of semi-starvation and lack of sleep, wore grey cloth that might almost have been rags. The younger one, now that was another matter, for she was a pretty-looking little thing, and in a decent gown with some jewels about her, then he, Trego of Felk-Habren would have been pleased to have made her acquaintance.

"Count," said Baxander. "May I present the witch Lessis." This was the older one.

Count Trego sucked in a breath, unsure whether they made sport of him, and if not, then how could he take these people seriously ever again? Old women in rags invited to Councils of War? Preposterous! His face began to color once more. Lessis raised her hands for a moment, and he felt a sudden relaxation. As if a masseuse had worked on just the right spot in his often tormented back and released taut muscles.

The woman had the strangest eyes; they seemed to bore right through one.

"I," he began, but something ebbed away from his mind, and he did not complete the thought.

"Count," she began, with a smile that revealed even white teeth, "I am so honored to meet you. The emperor asked me to express his personal thanks to you for your support of our mission."

"You," he gasped. "You are one who speaks with your emperor?"

"I have that honor."

Count Trego swallowed. Incredible! Then that was the way it was, just as he'd been warned. These men allowed themselves to be ruled by women! How in the world had they become such a feared and respected power? It didn't make sense to a man like Trego of Felk-Habren. Still, he controlled himself; at all odds he must be polite.

"I thank your emperor for his benevolence."

Lessis moved on; as always with her, time was short.

"Gentlemen, Endysia, I have just come from Koubha. We left only hours ago."

The count spluttered.

"If I may say so, it is not possible that you have come here from Koubha in only a few hours."

The witch smiled at him. "Nonetheless, we were in Koubha, with King Choulaput this very day. And as you can see, we are here now."

Count Trego would have scoffed, but something about this woman told him not to. She would not claim such a thing if it were not true.

"Then, I must say, I wish I had a way of getting myself there with our army this very night. The sooner we get to grips with the enemy, the better for us."