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A
large chieftain with a scar that ran from the corner of his eye down his
cheek to his mouth, spoke next with a tone of apprehension in his voice,
“But my lord, in the days of our fathers the Fortress of Carmel was an
outpost but now it has strong walls and high towers.
We will never be able to break through...” His
words faded into incoherent mumbling because he saw the change in
Araknik’s expression. “Have
you not seen enough, yet?” asked Araknik.
“Our numbers grow daily -- good strong desert warriors, not
afraid to face death and stare it down.
I agree with you, we do not have the siege engines we need to
take the fortress. I did
not say we would take it, but we will test the Andril.” The
scarred chieftain blurted out unwisely, “But the Long Wall bars our
way on either side of the fortress.
It is the only way into the Andril Region besides a few other
fortresses...” “The
Long Wall is in disrepair. It
means nothing to you if you call yourself a Salmonil!” snapped Araknik
as a flash of blue light from lightning shown through the tent flap and
a boom of thunder shook the ground.
A cold chill ran up everyone’s spine without the aid of cool
wind blowing. The scarred
chieftain said no more. They
heard the sound of many outside scurrying for cover.
Araknik shook his fist at the tent flap.
“Why are you so superstitious?
Every time lightning strikes you run.
Cowards, you grew up with it.”
He looked back at the Council and added, “It will be our
undoing unless we conquer this childish fear of nature.” Consus
chose his next words well, knowing the full measure of his lord’s
wrath. “According to our
spies, the wall is not as strong as some would assume.
There is a place in the mountains -- east of the fortress, I have
been told -- where a breach has opened up.
Now that we have the new ... breed,
our scouts can quickly climb the Andril Mountains and, taking advantage
of this breach, and take the village before noon.
By that time, the rest of the advance will have made it
though.” |
|
Araknik
nodded. “Now that is
council we can use. This
would be a perfect opportunity to exercise our newly found talent.” “But
we do not yet have enough of them
trained.” The rebuttal came from General Gari of the Bosa who recently
won honor in the hunt. Three
weeks into the hunt a haochi bull sought refuge in a cave.
According to tradition, no animal could be left behind in the
sweep, so someone would have to go in and chase it out without killing
it or being killed. General
Gari did so and it was added to his quickly growing list of
accomplishments. “Granted,”
replied Araknik, “for a full assault against the Andril, but for this
task, they will do. In a
few more years, perhaps, they will replace the pony.”
He raised his hands acknowledging their protest.
“I know, we have always depended on the pony.
I myself learned to ride at three years of age ... before any of
your great-grandparents were even thought of ... but if the new breed
gives us a tactical advantage, we must be willing to sacrifice a little
tradition for the sake of victory, for new grazing lands, for gold, and
for glory.” Araknik
leaned forward and glared at the scarred chieftain.
“That is what you desire, is it not?” The
chieftain nodded nervously. He
had seen Araknik’s impatience burn like this in kurultai
before. Usually it
meant that he would not see the intended victim again. General
Gari waited a little and then continued, “We only need the new breed
for the scouts and the Shadow Knights -- scouts to discover their
weaknesses and the Shadow Knights to exploit them.” Araknik
turned towards Consus. “You
could handle it,” he glared, “can’t you?” Consus nodded, remembering his failure with Firesmyth many years before, a failure that almost cost him his career, not to mention his life. |
