34th day, Month of the Hawk, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Plains of Tsengui, Nalenyr

We took heart in the way the skies opened up and rain poured. Water flowed into the battlefield, expanding the swamps. The clouds came in, dark and ominous, hiding the Virine mountains. They also kept Nelesquin’s fliers close to the ground. Prince Pyrust ordered a watch kept and, save for grazing runs the hellbats made over the swamps, or the occasional arrow launched from on wing, they did nothing.

The marsh’s expansion caused us to shift our battle formation. Count Vroan took the opportunity to initiate a realignment of our positions. One of the Desei militias shifted to the left flank to cover the swamp. The Desei Hawks came next, occupying the center, but the Naleni troops moved to the right. Vroan’s westrons still held the right flank, but our lines had shifted from an east-west axis to a northeast-southwest position. This actually put Vroan’s troops closest to the enemy, but he still had the stream to guard his flank.

Vroan demanded, and Pyrust agreed, to pull my half army of xidantzu and Virine troops back into a reserve position. Faulting his logic was difficult. The new positions had Naleni troops supporting each other on the right, and Desei troops supporting each other on the left. Where Naleni and Desei mixed in the center, Pyrust would be able to command directly. The regiments within the armies had been staggered so Naleni and Desei troops overlapped in the center.

Nelesquin’s troops had come up in good order and arrayed themselves in a tighter formation than ours. We had forty-four thousand troops on our side-seven of those in reserve. The kwajiin numbered roughly half that. They brought with them a number of the monsters we’d seen at Tsatol Deraelkun. Their appearance shocked our troops, but the way their feet sank into the mud heartened us. While the hammer-headed apes-Dunos decided they should be called xonarchii, meaning “stick brains”-might be able to hurl stones into our lines, their missiles would likely get stuck instead of bouncing on through formations.

On the eve of battle, Prince Pyrust invited me to his tent. We stood beneath an awning. Rain pattered heavily against the canvas and dripped through a couple of seams. Neither of us wore armor, but we did bear our swords. I took it as a sign of respect that he allowed me to retain mine.

Pyrust studied the enemy lines. “They have no cavalry.”

“In the mud they will not be terribly effective.”

“That’s why I’ll keep mine out of the mud.”

I nodded. “Good idea. Nelesquin cut his teeth fighting against bandits and pirates. He never developed a feel for the use of cavalry. When I was learning cavalry tactics, he was devoting himself to magic.”

“But wouldn’t his commander see the value in cavalry?” Pyrust pointed to a large pavilion across the battlefield from us. “I am assuming he’s not there, your Nelesquin. He doesn’t fight under the tiger-tail banner.”

“No.” I shrugged. “I imagine he’s returned to Kelewan. He’s already divined the battle’s outcome with his Viruk scrying stones.”

The Prince arched an eyebrow. “Does he believe such oracles?”

“It was an affectation he picked up later in life. He used to say the stones never led him astray, but the Turasynd invasion did not turn out well for him.”

“Let us hope they fail him again here.” Pyrust’s chin came up. “Have you seen his general fight?”

“No. The battle at Tsatol Deraelkun revealed little about how he will fight here.”

“But you are still of the opinion we should pull back, disperse, and bleed them?”

“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes. “Is that why you agreed with Vroan’s suggestion that my troops get pulled back into our reserve? Do you think I would pull my troops out too soon?”

“If I thought that, I’d have sent you to Moriande days ago.” Pyrust clasped his hands behind his back. “I am confident we will fight as best we are able, but that does not guarantee victory. I do not know how this general will conduct this battle. While you and your people have provided me with some insight, it doesn’t mean we might not lose.”

He looked up at the Imperial banner swaying in the breeze. “There’s not been a prince since the creation of the Nine who has not dreamed of fighting beneath an Imperial banner. Well, perhaps Cyron is an exception, but I certainly was not. When I came to Moriande, I was a step from killing Cyron, but he asked a curious thing of me. He asked me not to destroy so much that I could not build again. I saw empire as a political entity, but he saw it as the lives of the people.”

Pyrust glanced down, the hint of a smile on his face, clearly remembering Cyron’s words clearly. “My mortal enemy gave me that vision, and now it is my responsibility. I will fight here because it is my duty to do so. I would fail in my responsibility if I did not think about what might happen if I fail.”

I watched him closely. “Are you going to tell me to pull my people back and not fight them?”

He turned and poked his half hand against my breastbone. “What I will ask you is to follow orders, my orders, no matter what they are. Count Vroan will not. He will obey until he sees a way to cover himself with glory, then my orders be damned. I will see to it he has his glory.”

“Posthumously.”

“It is for the best.” Pyrust held his maimed hand up. “I know war well. If there is a point where things are hopeless, I will need you to organize a fighting retreat. If we fail here, the kwajiin will reach Moriande unopposed. If they can break our force, then the defense of Moriande will require wise leadership.”

“Perhaps, then, we should change places, Highness.”

“No. My people will fight for you, but they will never stop fighting for me. It is a difference that will mean much tomorrow.”

I bowed deeply to him. “I shall abide by your orders, Highness.”

“Thank you. And soon we shall laugh about my caution in the Empress’ court.”

“Better we do it in the Illustrated City. We’ll share wine from a cup fashioned of Nelesquin’s skull.”

Pyrust smiled. “This we shall do, Master Soshir, this we shall do.”

No one in my command appreciated the bargain I’d struck, but I understood their feelings. Captain Lumel and the Virine wanted revenge for their nation. My xidantzu lived to protect others through their skill at arms. Being held back grated on their souls. I reminded them that reserves would win the battle and this mollified them somewhat.

Morning dawned dim and cold. The rain had slackened into a chill drizzle. The clouds remained low, so the leather-wings did not venture high in the sky. The archers mounted on them did little damage, though our archers were not terribly effective either, save one. Penxir Aerant, a xidantzu archer and giant of a man who used a bow longer than I was tall, shot an arrow at a retreating leather-wing. The shaft hit its target on the downside of an arc. It passed through the driver’s back and into the beast’s neck. The broadhead must have severed a nerve. The right wing spasmed and folded in. The hellbat splashed down, spilling the dozen kwajiin archers riding it. The Desei militia sent several volleys after the survivors, killing half of them.

Our side took this to be a great victory. I thought their celebration premature. Though stuck through with arrows, the other half of the kwajiin made their way out of the swamp by themselves. At least one man yanked an arrow from his leg and took his place in the ranks again.

In war, the object is to destroy those you face. An enemy that does not die easily is to be feared. The kwajiin formations were full of such men, all of whom carried swords and long spears and woven wicker shields that had been covered with cloth. Clan badges covered the shields. The warriors had gathered tightly together, so that their formation became a wall bristling with spears.