Sterling Lanier - The Unforsaken Hiero
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- Название:The Unforsaken Hiero
- Автор:
- Издательство:Del Rey / Ballantine
- Жанр:
- Год:1983
- ISBN:0-345-31048-9
- Рейтинг книги:5 / 5. Голосов: 1
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There were a few small islands in view, some mere stubs of rock and others crowned with trees, whose spires and branches pierced the shifting fogs over the dark water. There was movement out there, Hiero saw. Small craft rowed briskly from one islet to another. The rising mist, burned away by the sun’s coming, revealed the dark shapes of several large sailing vessels, On a number of islands, smoke rose in the morning air. Activity, but not too much activity…
Hiero was sitting astride Klootz on the end of a low promontory which jutted into the Lake of Weeping almost at the angle of the elbow. It was a handy place to be, and he had picked it himself. He was the Commander of the Center under Demero, and the old man had brushed aside any complaints about seniority before they got started. “Who knows the enemy better than you do? No one. Who has encountered more of them than anyone else and still survived? Same answer. Justus Berain says he’ll be glad to serve under you, anywhere, any time. Like to argue with him? I’m giving you Maluin and Sagenay as staff. The two Mantans won’t serve under anyone else, insubordinate devils. The whole army has word of your cats, and they can serve as runners to carry written messages. Maluin has already got a bunch of juniors to handle routine. What’s left? Nothing. Get to work, boy. I’m busy.”
Now Hiero smiled wryly as he watched through his far-looker, the small telescope he carried clipped to his saddle. He could, hear low voices among the group of young officers and NCOs behind him. He was finally beginning to realize that being a living legend was not an unmixed blessing. The awe in the eyes of the young men and women who served under him was annoying, but there was nothing he could do about it. He concentrated once more on the dispositions to his front. He had to use his eyes and those of others, for the Abbey machines had clamped an intense shield over the minds of ail in the area. Presumably the Unclean had done the same for their own forces. Time would tell who possessed the most effective mental protection.
His scouting group had fled southwest at an incredible pace after Gorm had alerted them. They had actually cut off four days on their time going out, and they had been moving very fast indeed then. They needed every minute that they could get, and Hiero had driven them all unmercifully, using Klootz’s broad back to carry those who were the most tired. This was usually Per Sagenay, whose young body was not as tough as the others’ and who resented it but could only comply. But three days out from their front lines, Geor Mantan had sprained an ankle and, cursing horribly, had been made to ride as well. Otherwise they would have left him.
They had bought the Republic and its allies a week. In this struggle, that might be much. For the Otwah League’s troops were still far off and already meeting some resistance as they came. Not all of S’duna’s force had been sent west, and there was apparently a good deal wrong with security in the upper ranks of the League! just because I loathe S’duna’s filthy guts, I shouldn’t make the mistake of underrating his slimy brain, Hiero thought to himself. The bastard can think, and he knows enough to try and bleed off any help we might get, if he learns about it first. Let’s hope there’s some coming he doesn’t know about.
He looked down and saw a young lieutenant at salute. He eyed her approvingly. Save for the short leather skirt, her uniform was identical to his, and he knew his women could use their weapons and brains as well as or better than the men. Besides, she was pretty.
“Message from the Abbot-General, sir. Very hard fighting has started in the deep woods about twenty kilometers north and east. Our screens are giving back slowly, trying to see what’s behind the enemy front. The morse troops have been ordered back because the country is too broken for them. He will keep you informed as he gets more data.”
Hiero grinned down at the snapping black eyes, returned the salute and thanked her, then forgot her immediately.
It made sense to get the cavalry out. One or two might serve as couriers in the depths of the forest, but they couldn’t maneuver as a unit. Demero had stripped the North to get those two mounted regiments, and they must not be wasted.
“Per Sagenay,” he threw over his shoulder. “Bring me the map quadrant that shows the land opposite us and to the west, if you please.”
Together, they examined it. It was bog and drowned land, but not deep in water, containing only shallow, slow-moving streams which kept it somewhat drained. There were few trees, but mostly grasses and rank growths of reed. The whole section eventually sprawled down to the low-lying shore of the lake they were on, over to their left and on the longer of the two arms of the V, The shore simply became the marsh, or vice versa, for a kilometer of total distance. A bad place to put troops, it seemed, but useful for the passive resistance it made, guarding a flank, like a broad, muddy moat. Now the question was, might this fact be too obvious to another keen mind?
Hiero spoke for a few minutes with Cart Sagenay, then sent the young priest back to his own group. He scrawled something on a small belt pad of reed paper and called M’reen over to his side. The sun had cleared the last of the dawn mist off the water now, and the blue sparkle against the green foliage was almost dazzling.
Take this to our old chief the Wise One. Then hurry back. There will be much to do this day.
She was gone like her native wind, all eyes on the slender form until it vanished. Ch’uirsh and Za’reekh waited impatiently in the rear, ready for their own summons.
Edard Maluin strode over and patted Klootz absently. The blade of his billhook tapped the ground as he balanced the huge weapon in his other hand like a wand.
“What do we know about the two flanks, Hiero? The left doesn’t bother me too much. The arm of the lake there bends away from us and can be held pretty easily. The right, now, that’s different. Fallig Leaves Lake is not especially wide and it tapers into Bowstring Creek and the River of Rains. A long line to guard, all the way down to the Inland Sea.”
“The Abbot knows it, you know it, and I know it. Pretty soon, if they don’t already, the enemy will know it. We have four full regiments of Frontier Guards and two mixed regiments of militia whose women are as well trained as the men—not Guards standard, but pretty good. About seven thousand, if you count the auxiliaries, baggage, ammunition carriers, and so on. Two regiments of morse. A strong battalion of Scouts, now falling back in front of the Unclean. Certain aquatic allies, whose performance is still untested. Also what you both see and do not see out on the lake and similarly to east and west. Forget the League. They started too late and are well behind the enemy now. Maybe they’ll get here in a week or so and maybe not. What they find when they do get here is something else. There may be other help closer to hand. I don’t know; nobody knows. Gorm has gone to try and find out, but hell have to go around the fighting and the enemy flanks to do it. All very problematical. And that, my friend, is it. We have nothing else, no reserve, except a small tactical one, taken from the above. This is our first army, just as what you served in was the first navy. We’ve never moved or fought on this scale before. No one in the North has—not the Unclean, either.”
He shifted in his saddle and stared out over the water. Armies had fought in the South, if not here. He suppressed the wish for Luchare, leading a division of lancers on their hoppers, emerging from the southern wood to the rescue. Might as well ask for a flight of angels.
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