Roger Taylor: Ibryen

Though it was difficult, he pursued none of them, nor wasted anything other than the smallest mental effort in arguing the injustice in them. He had lost enough good friends in his life to recognize his own responses when faced with that which could not be faced. Such thoughts must be allowed to escape, or, like swallowed vomit, they would wreak untold harm later. Like vomiting also, their passing left him trembling and a little light-headed and, as they gradually faded, he remained motionless, composing his features and filling the aching emptiness inside him with the resolve that he knew he must ruthlessly impose on the rest of the community today if they were to survive.

As he stepped through the door of his private quarters, he almost tripped over Hynard sitting across the threshold.

‘Why didn’t you wake me earlier?’ he said sternly.

Hynard glared at him. ‘You’ve only been asleep a couple of hours or so,’ he replied bluntly. ‘And you needed it. I’d have woken you fast enough if it’d been necessary.’ He pointed at the bright, clear sky. ‘What are we going to do?’

Marris strode forward, motioning Hynard to follow. ‘Attack the army from the Greskilva Valley to draw them away, and evacuate the entire village to the south, along whatever route Ibryen’s taken.’

Hynard halted. ‘What?’

Marris ignored the exclamation and continued walking. ‘What’s the latest news from the look-outs?’ he demanded, over his shoulder.

Hynard caught up with him. ‘Mainly bad,’ he said. This time it was Marris who stopped.

‘Mainly bad?’ he echoed inquiringly. ‘You mean, there’s some good?’

‘Not much,’ Hynard replied unhappily. ‘Troops are pouring into the mountains. What we can see of the road is still choked with them. But a lot of them are in a bad way. And there seems to be virtually no organization.’

Marris’s brow furrowed in bewilderment and frustration. ‘What’s happened?’ he said, clenching his fists and looking up at the surrounding peaks as if the answer might come echoing back to him. ‘It makes no sense. The Gevethen are nothing if not patient and cunning. Yet more and more this has all the earmarks of the entire army being scratched together at a moment’s notice. I wonder if Ibryen’s…’

He left the question unasked. The answer to it could perhaps be vital, but as it was not available the question was irrelevant. He set off again, checking the obvious with Hynard.

‘Even so, there are enough in good fettle and order to find and destroy us if they’re prepared to pay the price?’

‘Yes,’ Hynard answered coldly. ‘And they’re prepared to pay the price. They’re already paying it. People are collapsing from exhaustion and being left where they fall. There’ve been countless accidents, and there might even have been actual mutinies in places.’

‘But?’

‘But not enough to stop the incursion,’ Hynard confirmed.

They were at the Council Hall. Several of the Company Leaders with whom he had been talking through most of the night had remained there, snatching such sleep as they could, sprawled across benches and tables. They converged on Marris as soon as he entered, but he allowed no debate, simply announcing his decision.

‘The Greskilva Valley is well to the east of us. Making a stand there will start to pull the army away from where they are now, which is far too close. It’s also very narrow and steep-sided and can be defended by a small group who’ll be able to escape along it during the dark, when need arises.’

No one could argue with Marris’s brief tactical summary, but the order to evacuate the village provoked more contention. He dealt with it as if he were explaining nothing more serious than the sowing of the year’s crops.

‘All the naturally defensible valleys like the Greskilva are, by virtue of that fact, uninhabitable. And all the habitable valleys, like this, can’t be made impregnable. This you know. We’ve always relied predominantly on secrecy for our safety. If that army finds out where we are – and they may well – we’re utterly lost. We can’t hope to stand against such numbers, however disorganized they are. They’ll wear us down by attrition if nothing else.’ He looked round at his listeners; men and women he had known and trusted for many years, and several of whom he had turned from being ordinary, quiet citizens, into skilled fighters. Now the value of his training, and Ibryen’s leadership, would be tested to the full. ‘You all know this too. Time we spend debating it will be wasted.’

Again his reasoning could not be faulted and, reluctantly, the discussion turned to the practicalities of the task. ‘Anything that’s not essential will have to be left and everyone will have to carry something,’ Marris declared. ‘Most of our supplies are already well hidden. With a little good luck they’ll be too busy destroying our buildings and might not find them.’ He could not forbear frowning at the thought but he did not pursue it.

‘It’s not going to be easy. With scouting patrols all over the ridges, we’ll almost certainly be seen,’ someone said.

Marris shook his head and frowned determinedly. ‘No. This is to be an orderly withdrawal. Normal movement discipline will apply more than ever. And if attention’s being drawn to Greskilva, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t move out unnoticed.’ He answered the next question before it was asked. ‘And even if we are seen, we still have the advantage. We’ll be a comparatively small group, well-fed, well-equipped, disciplined, and bound by a common cause. We can move far faster than they can.’

‘We won’t know where we’re going.’

‘Nor will they,’ Marris said forcefully. ‘But we’ve enough portable supplies to sustain us for quite a long time, and we’ll be heading towards Ibryen, while they’ll be moving even further from their precious leaders and stretching their supply lines and communications to the limit within two or three days.’

Despite himself, his bewilderment at the Gevethen’s actions found voice. ‘If they have any supply lines,’ he burst out, ‘which I’m beginning to doubt. From a military point of view, what they’re doing is insane.’ He waved his hand apologetically to dismiss the topic. The last thing he needed now was to unleash general speculation about why this attack was being made. ‘We retreat as far as we have to until the first rush of their attack is spent. They can’t sustain what they’re doing for long, and when they withdraw we’ll re-establish ourselves.’ He sought to deal with another unasked question. ‘We’ve done it before and we can do it again, this time using all the experience we’ve gained over the years.’

He was only partially successful. He and Ibryen had trained their people to think for themselves too well.

‘We’ll never defeat them from further in the mountains.’ The statement was unequivocal, although Marris noted with some relief that it was free from bitterness. He found it heartening too, that the speaker was still thinking in terms of defeating the Gevethen despite what was happening. He acknowledged her.

‘Nor they us,’ he replied, his face resolute and menacing. The power of his intent shook through the very depths of his long anger against the Gevethen. ‘And consequences that we can’t begin to foresee will follow from what the Gevethen are doing. A largely conscripted army, returning exhausted and demoralized, and unsuccessful! Returning to towns, cities, borders that have all been left unguarded. Dust blowing in the wind. Consequences.’ He nodded to himself then, clearing his throat brusquely, he allocated duties and sent the Company Leaders on their way.

A feint in the Greskilva Valley was a sound strategy, he thought, as he watched them leave; Ibryen would have approved of it. With a little good fortune they could emerge from this not only unscathed, but with the Gevethen perhaps fatally undermined.