Joel Shepherd - Tracato

Her heart and breathing recovering, she got up. There were enough fires lit to make for a little light across the long valley slope. Sasha picked her way carefully between sleeping men, and stopped at a small clean patch. She strained her eyes to see across the valley. The lights of the Enoran camp were still there, yet she felt uneasy. She felt like…like…

She could not find the word to describe it. Yet it was like at Ymoth, during the great charge of horses, when it felt as though there were a formless dark shape moving at the edge of her vision, covering her flank. In fact, she thought she’d seen it, dodging a hidden tree stump, and warning her to do the same. She had seen it, hadn’t she? She’d not thought about it in a long time, being busy with other matters, most of them not concerned with old Lenay superstitions. And there’d been a wind, in the second charge of that second fight, when the Hadryn had attempted to regroup. A great gust of wind, that had torn across the flattened fields of crops, and thrown dust and debris into the eyes of the Hadryn soldiers, distracting them from their defence.

It had happened, hadn’t it? Or was her memory playing tricks on her, in the aftermath of vivid, horrible dreams from which she had not yet fully woken? A man dreams he is a butterfly, went the serrin tale. When he awakes, he wonders, was I then a man, dreaming I was a butterfly? Or am I now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man?

Sasha squeezed her eyes shut, and put her hands over her face. Her wrists throbbed from recently healed scabs. Memories and pain. She wished that not all memories were painful. She knew she had some pleasant ones tucked away somewhere, but she did not know where to find them now.

She opened her eyes once more, and stared out into the dark. In Petrodor, Rhillian had told her tales of King Leyvaan’s army in Saalshen, and how the serrin would stalk them by night, beneath a new moon such as this one, and how no soldier could sleep for the terror of the screams of sentries dying. She heard no screaming now. And she recalled how she’d sat with Rhillian, sipping tea and talking, close as unexpected friends could be, who had known each other only a short time but found some common language of the soul. How had they come to hate each other? Somehow, she found it difficult to recall. Perhaps it was because they were so similar. Like her and Alythia, so similar, so aggressive and self-obsessed, merely the modes of expression differed. She’d hated Alythia, then come to love her. With Rhillian, it was the reverse. Perhaps.

She thought she heard a creaking. A distant squeal, as though of a cart, or some wooden axle. Then nothing. Perhaps something was trying to tell her something. Perhaps through dreams. They called her the Synnich again, in some parts of this army. At Ymoth, she’d felt like this, and seen a dark shadow running through the grain fields. She set off walking toward the farmhouse.

She found Damon sitting on the verandah, and a pair of Royal Guardsmen at watch by the door. Many others stood about, and some slept, watching in shifts. Lanterns were placed further from the farmhouse, not near, as Sasha had instructed-best to make any attacking serrin come out of the light rather than into it, and take away that advantage of a darkened approach. And Errollyn had always said that he found it hard to adjust his eyes from one strength of light to another.

She took a seat at Damon’s side, and put her head against his shoulder. Damon said nothing, yet did not seem surprised. He rested his cheek against the top of her head.

“Damon?”

“Hmm?”

“I think they might be moving the artillery.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s a new moon,” said Sasha. “They’ve seen we’re too smart to attack immediately. They know they’ll have to attack at some point, if they’re going to get past us and outflank the Larosans to the north. The longer they wait, the more moon there’ll be. Serrin don’t see too well in a new moon, but we don’t see at all, so it’s a much bigger advantage for them than any other kind of moon. Why should they wait, and give us time to scout their forces?”

Damon thought about it. “So you didn’t see or hear anything that might suggest they’re moving the artillery? Some kind of actual fact?”

“No. It’s a stupid hunch.”

Damon put his arm around her, and gave her a squeeze. “I’ll listen to your stupid hunch. Go on.”

“We can’t scout the far end of the valley. It’s too close to the border, they have artillery covering it, a fast charge down the slope will kill anyone getting too close. The hills aren’t that steep either, the Steel ballistas are mounted on oxen carts, those oxen are strong, they could get up or down these hills pretty quickly. Big catapults are oxen pulled too, but those are much heavier and less stable… I’m sure they could do it, though.”

“Hard in the dark,” suggested Damon.

“Not if each team borrows a few serrin to guide the way. We’d not even see lights moving to know what they were up to.”

Damon nodded slowly. “Where do you put the artillery?”

“Along this ridge,” said Sasha, pointing along the ridge where the Army of Lenayin was encamped.

“We can outflank them.”

“With infantry? We’ll have to split our force… I mean, if they send their main force down into the valley, that is.”

“Give away the advantage of height? And risk encirclement on their high flanks?” Damon shook his head. “Damn, I’d love it if they did that.”

“No, Damon…” Sasha sat up and looked him in the eye. “You’re discounting the artillery. I’ve been trying to drum it into your thick heads what it can do, but no one’s listening. We won’t be able to assemble above the Enoran force in the valley, because the artillery will keep the slopes clear. They’ll be guarded, like…”

Sasha sprung off the verandah, pulled her knife and began drawing in the dirt. There was just enough light from the nearby lanterns. “You see? The main infantry force in the valley, covered by their artillery on either flank, high on the slopes. Height means extra range, they can fire at us if we go into the valley, or right into us if we assemble directly above the Enoran infantry for a charge.”

“So all of their cavalry will be defending their artillery,” said Damon, kneeling alongside. “What if we concentrate our infantry,” and he drew a big cluster on one side of the valley, “and send everyone against one lot of artillery, since they’ve conveniently divided their force. If we overrun that lot, we not only remove half of their greatest advantage, but we hold the heights above their infantry too.”

“They’ll move every cavalryman they have to defend that side,” Sasha warned. “With all these talmaad around, that’ll be a lot.”

“Yes, but light cavalry,” Damon countered. “It’s made for attacking, not defending.” He considered the squiggles in the dirt. “This would be cunning of them, but it gives us many options. They’d have to be desperate to try it.”

“We have them bottled up otherwise,” said Sasha. “And if the Larosans are not flanked, Rhodaan may well fall. If Rhodaan falls, Enora loses its defensive line, and will have to fight invasion from Rhodaan, not from Larosa, which is far easier.”

“Or from Saalshen,” Damon added, “if the Larosans cross the Ipshaal.” Sasha nodded, and looked up at footsteps on the verandah.

“What are you two muttering about that’s so important you’d wake me up?” Koenyg asked grumpily.

“Sasha has an idea.”

“Oh aye,” said Koenyg sarcastically, jumping down to look at their scribblings, “this should be good.”

He wasn’t so sarcastic after she’d explained it, though. He knelt, looking at the squiggles for a long time. And looked up, staring into the dark, as though wishing he had serrin vision with which to probe the night.