The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
THE SPRING RAINS WERE HEAVY THAT YEAR.
The business of war was hampered by the ever-present mud. It would stay wet and cold for nearly another month before the brief, hot summer came.
Duke Brucal of Yabon and Lord Borric stood looking over a table laden with maps. The rain hammered on the roof of the tent, the central part of the commander’s pavilion. On either side of the tent two others were attached, providing sleeping quarters for the two nobles. The tent was filled with smoke, from lanterns and from Kulgan’s pipe. The magician had proven an able adviser to the dukes, and his magical aid helpful. He could detect trends in the weather, and his wizard’s sight could detect some of the Tsurani’s troop movements, though not often. And over the years his reading of every book he encountered, including narratives of warfare, had made him a fair student of tactics and strategy.
Brucal pointed to the newest map on the table. ‘They have taken this point here, and another here. They hold this point’ – he indicated another spot on the map – ‘in spite of our every effort to dislodge them. They also seem to be moving along a line from here, to here.’ His finger swept down a line along the eastern face of the Grey Towers. ‘There is a coordinated pattern here, but I’m damned if I can anticipate where it’s going next.’ The old Duke looked weary. The fighting had been going on sporadically for over two months now, and no distinct advantage could be seen on either side.
Borric studied the map. Red spots marked known Tsurani strongholds: hand-dug, earthen breastworks, with a minimum of two hundred men defending. There were also suspected reinforcement companies, their approximate location indicated with yellow spots. It was known that any position attacked was quick to get reinforcements, sometimes in a matter of minutes. Blue spots indicated the location of Kingdom pickets, though most of Brucal’s forces were billeted around the hill upon which the commander’s tent sat.
Until the heavy foot soldiers and engineers from Ylith and Tyr-Sog arrived to man and create permanent fortifications, the Kingdom was fighting a principally mobile war, for most of the troops assembled were cavalry. The Duke of Crydee agreed with the other man’s assessment. ‘It seems their tactics remain the same: bring in a small force, dig in, and hold. They prevent our troops from entering, but refuse to follow when we withdraw. There is a pattern. But for the life of me, I can’t see it either.’
A guard entered. ‘My lords, an elf stands without, seeking entrance.’
Brucal said, ‘Show him in.’
The guard held aside the tent flap, and an elf entered. His red-brown hair was plastered to his head, and his cloak dripped water on the floor of the tent. He made a slight bow to the dukes.
‘What news from Elvandar?’ Borric asked.
‘My Queen sends you greetings.’ He quickly turned to the map. He pointed at the pass between the Grey Towers on the south and Stone Mountain on the north, the same pass Borric’s forces now bottled up at its east end. ‘The outworlders move many soldiers through this pass. They have advanced to the edge of the elven forests, but seek not to enter. They have made it difficult to get through.’ He grinned. ‘I led several a merry chase for half a day. They run nearly as well as the dwarves. But they could not keep up in the forest.’ He returned his attention to the map. ‘There is word from Crydee that skirmishes have been fought by outriding patrols, but nothing close to the castle itself. There is no word of activity from the Grey Towers, Carse, or Tulan. They seem content to dig in along this pass. Your forces to the west will not be able to join you, for they could not break through now.’
‘How strong do the aliens appear to be?’ asked Brucal.
‘It is not known, but I saw several thousand along this route.’ His finger indicated a route along the northern edge of the pass, from the elven forests to the Kingdom camp. ‘The dwarves of Stone Mountain are left alone, so long as they do not venture south. The outworlders deny them the pass also.’
Borric asked the elf, ‘Has there been any report of the Tsurani’s having cavalry?’
‘None. Every report refers only to infantry.’
Kulgan said, ‘Father Tully’s speculation on their being horseless seems to be borne out.’
Brucal took brush and ink in hand and entered the information on the map. Kulgan stood looking over his shoulder.
Borric said to the elf, ‘After you’ve rested, carry my greetings to your mistress, and my wish for her good health and prosperity. If you should send runners to the west, please carry the same message to my sons.’
The elf bowed. ‘As my lord wishes. I shall return to Elvandar at once.’ He turned and left the tent.
Kulgan said, ‘I think I see it.’ He pointed to the new red spots on the map. They formed a rough half circle, through the pass. ‘The Tsurani are trying to hold this area here. That valley is the center of the circle. I would guess they are attempting to keep anyone from getting close.’
Both the dukes looked puzzled. Borric said, ‘But to what purpose? There is nothing there of any value militarily. It is as if they are inviting us to bottle them up in that valley.’
Suddenly Brucal gasped. ‘It’s a bridgehead. Think of it in terms of crossing a river. They have a foothold on this side of the rift, as the magician calls it. They have only as many supplies as their men can carry through. They don’t have enough control of the area for foraging, so they need to expand the area under their control and build up supplies before they launch an offensive.’
Brucal turned to the magician. ‘Kulgan, what do you think? This is more in your province.’
The magician looked at the map as if trying to divine information hidden in it. ‘We know nothing of the magic involved. We don’t know how fast they can pass supplies and men through, for no one has ever witnessed an appearance. They may require a large area, which this valley provides them. Or they may have some limit on the amount of time available to pass troops through.’
Duke Borric considered this. ‘Then there is only one thing to do. We must send a party into the valley to see what they are doing.’
Kulgan smiled. ‘I will go too, if Your Grace permits. Your soldiers might not have the faintest idea of what they are seeing if it involves magic.’
Brucal started to object, his gaze taking in the magician’s ample size. Borric cut him off. ‘Don’t let his look fool you. He rides like a trooper.’ He turned to Kulgan. ‘You had best take Pug, for if one should fall, then the other can carry the news.’
Kulgan looked unhappy at that, but saw the wisdom in it. The Duke of Yabon said, ‘If we strike at the North Pass, then into this valley and draw their forces there, a small, fast company might break through here.’ He pointed at a small pass that entered the south end of the valley from the east.
Borric said, ‘It is a bold enough plan. We have danced with the Tsurani so long, holding a stable front, I doubt they will expect it.’ The magician suggested they retire for the rest of the evening, for it would be a long day on the morrow. He closed his eyes briefly, then informed the two leaders that the rain would stop and the next day would be sunny.
Pug lay wrapped in a blanket, trying to nap, when Kulgan entered their tent. Meecham sat before the cook fire, preparing the evening meal and attempting to keep it from the greedy maw of Fantus. The firedrake had sought out his master a week before, eliciting startled cries from the soldiers as he swooped over the tents. Only Meecham’s commanding shouts had kept a bowman from putting a cloth-yard arrow into the playful drake. Kulgan had been pleased to see his pet, but at a loss to explain how the creature had found them. The drake had moved right into the magician’s tent, content to sleep next to Pug and steal food from under Meecham’s watchful eye.
Pug sat up as the magician pulled off his sopping cloak. ‘There is an expedition going deep within Tsurani-held territory, to break the circle they’ve thrown up around a small valley and find out what they are up to. You and Meecham will