Stormrider (39 page)

“And to you, friend. Now move aside, for I’d not want the wagon wheel to run over your foot.”

“Nice wagon,” said the man. “Well made. What are you carrying?”

“I’m going to repeat my order to you, boy, on the off chance that you are either deaf or stupid. Move aside.”

“Not very friendly are you, old man? That’s a big mistake out here.” He swung the musket from his shoulder.

As he did so, Huntsekker produced a pistol from inside his bearskin coat. Cocking it, he pointed it at the man’s head and pulled the trigger. The musket man flew backward, landing in a heap. A second man pulled a pistol from his belt. Huntsekker was about to leap from the wagon when a shot came from his left. It made him jerk. The second man shouted in pain as a pistol ball slammed into his shoulder. His weapon fell from his fingers. The third man slowly raised his hands. Huntsekker glanced to his left. Maev Ring was holding two small pistols. Smoke still curled from the barrel of the first.

Huntsekker looked hard at the men. “Is our business here concluded?” he asked.

Both men nodded.

“Good. Hand me the pistols and the musket.”

The uninjured young man did so. Huntsekker threw them into the back of the wagon. “Best take your friend to the nearest surgeon,” he said. “That ball will have pushed cloth and dirt into the wound. Likely he’ll come down with gangrene.”

Flicking the reins, he drove the wagon past the two robbers. The wheels crunched over the body of the first man.

“How on earth were you planning to defeat three armed men with one pistol?” asked Maev.

“I figured if I shot the first, you’d tongue-lash the others to death.” He watched as Maev placed the pistols back in the leather bag at her feet.

“It’s a wonder to me you’ve survived so long in your chosen profession,” she said. Huntsekker tugged at the spikes of his beard. “I’ve noticed you do that a lot when you are nervous,” she pointed out.

It was going to be a long ride to Eldacre.

Winter Kay had always been a man of restless energy with an ability to drive himself harder than his colleagues. Since the death of the king that talent had increased to a level that astounded his officers. He rarely slept, keeping a team of riders on hand around the clock to deliver messages to senior officers and distant army groups.

Within three days of the assassination the Redeemers had control of the capital and all the major ports. The last vestiges of the defeated covenant army were hunted down, and many of their supporters in the south arrested and summarily hanged. Redeemer forces across the land established military law, and the power of Winter Kay closed around the nation like a fist of iron.

At Baracum he reorganized the army in preparation for the march on the north. With all secure behind him Winter Kay would be able to lead sixty thousand men on the march. Sir Sperring Dale had arrived from Eldacre, and his reports showed that the Moidart now had around eighteen thousand men, including new recruits. Redeemer seer scouts also reported some two thousand Rigante moving south to join him.

Winter Kay involved himself in all aspects of the current campaign from the supply of food and necessary equipment to the training and recruitment of officers. Strategy meetings were called often, and Winter Kay spent hours scanning written reports detailing the minutiae of preparation. With his senior officers he studied maps of the north, calling for population estimates and supply routes for the rebels.

“This,” he told his staff, “will be a war of annihilation. The north will be laid bare. Not a single rebel is to be spared. We will lay waste to his lands and ensure that no future rebellion ever returns to haunt us. Choose your men with care. Weed out those with a weaker disposition. The men who march north must be like wolves, savage and uncompromising.”

He radiated confidence and seemed unperturbed by the news that Gaise Macon could no longer be seen by his seer scouts. “He has acquired a demonic amulet or some such,” he said. “It will avail him nothing.” Attempts to kill the spirit of the vile little magicker aiding the Moidart had also met with no success, though Winter Kay now knew his identity. Aran Powdermill, a demon worshiper and mystic.

Powdermill did not have the talent to penetrate the seer ring around Baracum, and his spirit always fled swiftly when discovered. He was a nuisance, nothing more, though his use of ward spells around Eldacre meant that the Moidart could meet with his generals in secret. This was of only limited use, as the same men would then have to relay his orders to their own officers outside the walls, and those orders
were
observed and reported back to Winter Kay.

The attack on the north could not proceed for another five weeks while supplies were gathered. Winter Kay used the time wisely, strengthening his hold on the nation. He had himself declared protector general of the realm and issued edicts and proclamations, promising the restoration of the Great Council and changes to the law once the enemy had been defeated. Attempts were being made, he announced, to find the true heir to the murdered king, and when this was completed, a golden age of peace and harmony would be restored. A nation sick to its soul of war greeted the news with joy.

Other reports were sent out telling of the atrocities committed by the vile Moidart and his treacherous son, Gaise Macon. Macon had been part of the force that had murdered the king. His capture was of paramount importance, and a reward of two thousand pounds in gold was announced for any man or men who brought his head to Winter Kay.

In Eldacre Galliott the Borderer was on the verge of exhaustion. The problem facing the army of the Moidart was a simple one. It would begin to starve in less than two weeks. The food required to maintain the strength of eighteen thousand men was just not available in Eldacre so soon after a harsh winter.

Galliott had sent out skirmishers to scour the countryside and buy cattle where they could, and the main warehouses in Eldacre had been commandeered, much to the chagrin of the owners. A rationing system had been speedily introduced. This had already caused ill feeling among the residents of Eldacre. That ill feeling would grow substantially worse when the food ran out.

Eldacre had been one of the main suppliers of cattle, grain, and oats to the king’s army. Many merchants had become rich on the profits, but that meant that only the bare minimum of supplies was warehoused in the north. It was shipped immediately south, where it earned twice what it would in Eldacre. That avaricious pursuit of wealth had backfired alarmingly now that the north needed feeding. There were no substantial stockpiles. Food was still being imported through the three coastal towns in the east, and some was due to be brought to Eldacre within the next month. Too little and too late.

If the army was to be fed, the people would starve. If the army starved, the people would be enslaved or murdered.

Galliott was close to wit’s end when Maev Ring arrived. He was summoned to the Moidart’s office. As he entered, he stumbled and righted himself. Maev Ring was sitting opposite the Moidart. Galliott saw the concern in her face as she looked at him. “Are you well, Captain?”

“It is Colonel now,” said the Moidart, “and he is simply tired.”

“Yes,” mumbled Galliott, “tired.”

“Madam Ring is to take charge of supply,” said the Moidart. “Find her a suitable office and apartments. She is to have the rank of quartermaster general.”

“A woman?” said Galliott.

“Very observant, Colonel. She is indeed a woman. Were you in some doubt of this?”

“No, my lord. I meant . . . there has never been a woman with army rank.”

“As far as I know,” said the Moidart, “there has never been an army which selected its own officers. I have discovered that I am an innovative man. By my reckoning the question of supply will prove crucial within the next three weeks. It is vital, therefore, that we have a quartermaster who will ensure that no disasters occur. I suggest you find General Ring an office, brief her on the situation, then get some rest. You look like a walking corpse.”

“Yes, my lord.” Galliott led Maev Ring back to his own office. Papers littered the desk. Some had fallen to the floor.

“Talk me through the actions you have taken so far,” said Maev Ring.

Galliott yawned and tried to bring his thoughts to order. He outlined the rationing program and told her of the skirmishers and the attempts to purchase cattle and meat.

“I have two thousand cattle being herded toward Eldacre,” said Maev Ring. “It is also the lambing season, and so meat will not be in short supply. We will issue promissory notes to farmers for their produce, with those notes to be redeemed for coin upon request. Grain is a greater problem, but we will surmount it. Get me a list of Eldacre’s most prominent exporters. I will need to speak to each of them.”

“I have already spoken to them. There are no stocks.”

“Where there is wealth, there is a way, Galliott. You spoke to them as a soldier seeking to appropriate their goods and thus reduce their profits. I will speak to them as a businesswoman and promise them riches. You will find thereafter that there is at least three times the amount of food available.”

Moving to the desk, she lifted one of the papers lying there and scanned it. “Go and get some rest, Colonel. I shall remain here and look over your paperwork. Come back in three hours and we will begin to make plans.”

Gaise Macon’s arrival in Eldacre caused a flurry of excitement. He rode in with his weary men, left Mulgrave to see to their billets, and traveled on to the castle, a black hound running alongside his horse.

Citizens and soldiers paused to watch him as he rode past, a handsome young man with golden hair riding a tall gray gelding. In a well-cut cavalry jacket of dark gray silk and thigh-length boots over pale gray leggings, he looked every inch a cavalryman. Glancing neither to the right nor the left, he did not acknowledge the occasional cheer that went up from those who recognized him.

Inside the castle walls he dismounted, leaving the gelding in the care of a groom. Then he strode into the castle, the black hound at his side. The beast padded alongside him, casting baleful looks at any who came close to the general.

Gaise climbed the stairs and walked to his father’s offices, pushing open the door. The Moidart looked up, then stood, his face expressionless. “You took your time coming home,” he said, moving around the desk. As he approached Gaise, the black hound bared its teeth in a snarl. The Moidart glanced down at it, then flicked his fingers. “Sit!” he commanded. The dog sank to its haunches instantly.

“I understand you have now acquired the Pinance’s army.”

“Indeed.”

“Have you sent forces into the Pinance’s land?”

“No. Not yet.”

“It is necessary, one to acquire a fresh line of supply, and two, to offer us a second line of defense. It should be done today. There are far too many troops sitting around here doing nothing. How many men do we have?”

“Just under eighteen thousand, though I expect the Rigante to send a force.”

“Winter Kay will have more than fifty thousand when he comes. Twenty thousand cavalry, twenty-five thousand musketeers and pikemen, and some two hundred cannons.”

“I quake in my boots,” said the Moidart. “A glass of wine?”

“Aye, that would be welcome.”

“I take it that Shelding was hard on you. You seem to have acquired a touch of steel in your personality. I am most happy to see it.”

“A touch of steel?” Gaise said coldly. “Nicely put. But wholly incorrect. I always had a touch of steel. You were just blind to it, as you were blind to everything else I ever did. It used to concern me that you held no affection for your son. It used to worry me and make me think I had done something to offend you. Now it concerns me not at all. You do not like me, Father, and I detest you and everything you have failed to stand for. That said, we now face a common enemy. I will lead your forces. In public I will acquiesce to your wishes. In reality I am now in control here.”

“Ah, so you are now the Moidart?”

“Something I would never wish to be. No, sir, I am the soldier. I understand war, and I know how to fight it. You have a problem with any of this?”

The Moidart moved to a cabinet by the western wall and filled two goblets with wine. He passed one to Gaise. Once more the dog growled.

“Fine beast,” said the Moidart.

“I would be obliged if you did not shoot it.”

“Ah, that accident still rankles with you. I did not intend to kill your dog, Gaise. I value a good dog, and Soldier was one of the best. However, that is the past. Do I have a problem with you running the army? No, of course not. As you say, you are the warrior—the Gray Ghost, I understand. Very colorful. You will inspire the men and give them confidence. Is Mulgrave still with you?”

“For the time being. He has a desire to leave my service.”

“Why?”

“He is softhearted.”

“Yes, I noticed that when he was in my service. Not a natural killer. Sit down.”

The Moidart returned to his chair. Gaise sat opposite him. “How did you see this war developing?”

Gaise sipped his wine, then placed the goblet on the desktop. “Winter Kay is an able general. He will know through his Redeemers how many men we have. It will be important to him to split our forces. Therefore, he will probably send three columns into our lands. One will move along the east coast, closing off our supply routes from the sea. The other will come in from the west, across the lands of the Pinance. The main thrust will come directly from the south and be directed at Eldacre. This will be more slow moving, since it will have the artillery. The other forces will, I suspect, consist of cavalry detachments and musketeer support. We will need to oppose them, and this will involve weakening our defenses here. He is also likely to send a raiding force ahead of the three columns, trying to draw us out. The object of the raiding force will be to terrify the noncombatants and drain the morale of the citizenry.”

“Winter Kay does seem an able fellow,” said the Moidart. “I am surprised it took him so long to defeat the covenanters.”