Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (57 page)

As
good as his word, Jeff and Balko picked up Gaereth’s questing thought pattern
the next evening.

“All
is well at the moot, Jeffrey. Halric reports some two thousand souls present at
this time. We will begin moving south within the week. May I trust that a camp
will be prepared for our arrival?”

“A
camp is being set up west of the road about two hours ride north of Rugen. Are
you well enough provisioned for the trek south?”

“As
you Americans say, no problem. To occupy the energies of our Alemanni brethren,
I’ll organize hunting competitions to feed the troops. They can test each
other’s mettle by the game tally rather than in camp by breaking heads.”

Jeff
couldn’t help chuckling at that sally. When Gaereth continued, the carrier wave
of his thoughts was serious.

“I’m
looking forward to greeting you in person. I have much to apologize for.”

Gaereth
signed off before Jeff could respond.

The
expedition planned on leaving in no more than a week, and Jeff had to scramble.
Concerned that the Alemanni camp would indeed be ready, he also had to spend
considerable time with Imogo and Ethbar smoothing out details.

The
expeditionary force assembled early one morning well outside the city. The
troopers had been roused before daybreak. To preserve secrecy they had been
told nothing of the mission. Like any military organization on the move, they
exchanged excited rumors and some close guesses. None doubted that war was at
hand.

Rengeld
gave the order to march and his captain and lieutenants moved the troops out in
column, packhorses bringing up the rear. Jeff rode parallel to the column. The
sight and sounds of 200 cavalry trotting in formation accompanied by the
occasional drum roll was exhilarating. Bright unit pennons, the creak and
clinking of saddle and harness: no amount of book study could have prepared him
for the impact.

Cynic
particularly liked the drums and invariably shifted into a high-stepping gait
at each passage.

“It
appears you are happy to be on the road again, horse-brother.”

“It
is time to be at the enemy. I am content.”

Balko
was unreservedly enthusiastic about the opportunities for mayhem that were soon
to present themselves. His only complaint was the slow pace of the troop. That
complaint supplied Jeff with a solution to the last part of the plan he had
been considering.

They
had no reserves to fall back on if things went to hell, as things almost always
did in battle. Their slash and burn strategy by its very nature ruled out such
provision. Jeff thought he had the solution, and Balko’s impatience might be a
key factor in bringing his plan to the operational phase.

“Wolf-brother,
do you sense ‘Balthazar’s’ pack?”

“While
it is in our mind that they hunt in our direction, this one cannot hear their
voice.”

“That
has also been our conclusion. We sense that our wolf-brother moves south to
provide assistance in battles to come. Can his pack be found and brought to us?
Time grows short before we engage the enemy.”

The
various time demands were complex, requiring a good deal of consultation.

“I
believe we might succeed if I were to move quickly and catch their minds,
wolf-brother.”

“I
agree. There is sufficient time remaining but none to waste. This will be your
task. It promises to be a difficult run.”

“I
anticipate it greatly.”

Balko’s
only reservation was that he didn’t want to wind up so far afield that he
missed the action. Reassuring him there was enough time and Salchek to spare,
Jeff double-checked to make sure they were using the same timetable. When he
was satisfied, they bid each other farewell and Balko streaked for the forest.
Although he felt optimistic, Jeff decided not to report Balko’s mission until
it was certain that Balthazar’s pack could be located in time.

The
troop rounded the southern extremity of the forest spur three weeks after
leaving Rugen. Turning north, they penetrated far enough to ensure a safe base
camp. Two veteran scouts attached to the cavalry troop left at once to locate
the Salchek Army.

The
scouts returned several days later than expected. Jeff looked them over with a
bemused expression. Dressed in buckskin from head to toe, Taget and Harko
reminded Jeff of nothing so much as a pair of mountain men from America’s past.
All they lacked were Kentucky long rifles to make the picture complete. Their
speech was also different. While of the North, it was so full of contractions
and novel idiosyncrasies that at times it was hard to follow. Jeff had not
encountered the dialect before and wondered if it was a natural result of long
periods alone in the woods.

He
had queried Rengeld on the way south, but had learned little about the men’s
origins. Taget and Harko had simply drifted in from somewhere to the west
several years ago and signed on. Although an odd couple, Rengeld made it clear
he had come to trust them without reservation.

Shifting
from foot to foot in front of Rengeld and Jeff, Taget eyed Rengeld with some
trepidation.

“Sir,
I’m purty shor yer not gone ta like this one bit. Thar ain’t one army out thar,
they’s two. Me an’ Harko near run inta a bunch’a sojers comin’ from the
southeast what warn’t supposed ta be thar. Looks ta me they’s comin’ from
Astholf, sir.

“I
sent Harko ta sorter keep a eye on the army from Khorgan whilst I figgered out
how many they was. I counted around a thousand sojers on foot, city folk from
the look of ‘em. Mebbe two hunnerd what was mounted. They was another hunnerd
or so a them Salchek runnin’ things.”

“Two
armies.” Rengeld looked down and studied the ground for some time. He nodded.
“I should not be surprised.”
 

Jeff
retrieved a sheet of parchment from his saddlebags and held it out to the
scouts along with a piece of charcoal.

“It
would be of great assistance if you could draw how close the armies are to each
other, and where they are.”

The
scouts muttered together before Taget pushed Harko to the forefront.

As
the drawing took shape it became clear to Jeff that the armies were likely to
rendezvous about eight miles south of the forest spur, with the smaller force
from Astholf falling in behind. He couldn’t stop a grimace, and thought, Bloody
supply train is going to wind up protected by two armies. It’ll be like pissing
up a rope to attack that setup.

Dismissing
the scouts, Rengeld invited Jeff to join him for a stroll in the woods. “It is
possible that our plans were discovered,” Rengeld mused. “More likely, however,
is the simple fact that the force at Astholf was not well scouted. That will be
looked into upon our return. We are now confronted with a difficult tactical
problem.”

“There
is little doubt about that.”

Rengeld
pointed a twig at the supply train, which was situated at the rear of the main
army. “I judge the two forces will merge some distance south and a tithe west
of our location within no more than a day. By this evening, they may well be in
sight of one another. The combined force will then continue north.”

“If
we attack the supply train tonight,” Jeff observed, “the Astholf force will be
in position to flatten us against the Khorgan Army. Yet, if we wait until the
armies join they will roll us up from both flanks in a matter of minutes. The
risks are extreme.”

“Extreme
and unacceptable unless our force be traded for the supply train. Such a
decision at the beginning of a long campaign would be foolhardy.”

“I
agree. However there is another option I have been considering that might
improve the odds considerably. What if a blocking force attacked the Astholf
column before they joined up?”

“Why,
then, our original plan is sound. But tell me, Jeffrey,” Rengeld said with
frustrated sarcasm, “will you divide our small force and thus risk defeat of
each inadequate part, or conjure spirits to assist us in this worthy cause?”

Jeff
wasn’t stung at all by Rengelds’s comment. In fact, it was hard to keep an
inner smile from showing on his face at such an apt description of a wolf pack.

“The
latter option is appealing and does have great merit. I have worked with my
companion for some days to achieve this desirable state of affairs.”

He
could afford to have his little joke. While Rengeld had been assessing their
position, Jeff had received a message from Balko that Balthazar’s pack was
coming at speed. They expected to arrive late in the afternoon.

Rengeld’s
face started to purple up. However, he had seen Jeff’s humor in action several
times and reined his temper in. While offbeat and rough, it was never
destructive. He strongly suspected there was substance behind the humor.

“Perhaps
you would be so kind as to explain yourself?”

Jeff
figured he had pushed Rengeld about as far as was prudent, and proceeded to
explain the wolf gambit.

“Wolf
packs tend to be small, and Balthazar’s is no exception. At last count he was
leading eighteen adult wolves. On the surface that seems an inadequate force to
accomplish anything, much less attack an army. Yet the terror these creatures
inspire in humans is unimaginable. That is how they must be employed—to
terrify. While it is obvious that eighteen wolves cannot attack the entire
Astholf column, panic spreads like wildfire and will accomplish that task for
us.”

As
the picture developed, Rengeld forgot that he had ever been upset with Jeff.
“Now we attack. Now the way is open.”

“I
believe that it is, yet there is more. Allow me to convey what I have learned
from my studies of warfare in other lands. Ours is not a unique dilemma, and
the odds might be further improved.”

Pulling
together bits and pieces of a number of wars, large and small, Jeff described
tactics used in guerilla warfare.

“This
is unheard of!” Rengeld sputtered when Jeff concluded.

“That
depends on the country and circumstances. The tactics I have mentioned are well
proven and effective.”
 

“Yes,
I can perceive that they would be, but…” Rengeld choked off further objection.
His superb military instinct was excited and clamoring for attention. In the
end he was sold on the whole package.

Preparation
began that afternoon. Every piece of harness that had metal attached was padded
with rags. That accomplished, each trooper was required to shake the harness.
If there was any metallic sound, more padding was applied. All uniform
brightwork was covered with mud or carbon black. Horses with light coats or
white spots were also attended to. Troopers were warned that if anyone pulled a
sword before the word was given or wore spurs, a military career would end.
Individuals and groups were assigned tasks, then ordered to repeat them out
loud until they were memorized.

When
preparations were complete, Rengeld mustered the troop for the final step. Jeff
held out a pot for all to see.

“Watch
closely. If this is done properly, it may well save your life.”

Scooping
out a dollop of charcoal paste, he applied it to his face. Those old war movies
he had watched as a kid were finally paying off. Jeff wiped his hands on the
ground.

“All
right, boys, let’s mix up more of this stuff and get it done.”

One
of the troopers grinned at his buddy and reached for the pot. Within a short
period, Rengeld had to curb excessive enthusiasm. Looking like a regiment of
rogue Green Berets, the troop was ready to roll by dusk. Jeff had previously
informed Rengeld that he would have to go with the wolves.

“To
a wolf this night’s work is a joyful escapade. You must also know that this
pack consists entirely of impertinent wolves—what my country of origin would
term smart-asses. They may well enjoy themselves too much and be loath to
depart battle. I must assist their leader in effecting such departure.”

The
time came to leave and Rengeld gave the order to move out. The troop had
sobered considerably. Without wasted motion or comment, they ghosted into the
night without a sound.

Jeff
and Cynic headed southeast where they joined with Balthazar’s pack. Jeff had no
more than dismounted when Heideth hurried over. Jeff kneeled down to greet her,
the deep satisfaction he sensed in her mind reassuring him he had done the
right thing in letting her go. She and Balthazar belong together, he thought,
just like Zimma, Magda and me. That was an undocumented wish, and he knew it.
Zimma had given permission, but did she really mean it?

Balko
was happy to see Jeff as well, although he seemed somewhat anxious. When Jeff
asked why, Balko replied,
“This one is concerned there are still enemy necks
to bite.”

“More
than you can possibly imagine, my impatient young friend.”

He
mounted up and turned Cynic south, the wolves fanning out ahead. Jeff warned
them to be careful of lances, throwing spears and swords, but all he got for
his efforts were a few off-color remarks.