King of Foxes

Tal had sent two of his best scouts forward with the engineers. He had given them clear directions to follow. Once the bridge was up, they were to cross over, climb the long path, then wait inside the first large gallery, where he would take over and lead the soldiers through the maze of tunnels that led to the one cave big enough to hold his forces. From there it was a short march to the abandoned cellar in the citadel that would prove Kaspar’s undoing.

 

Tal regarded his army as they filed past, making their way to campsites where they would unsaddle their mounts and leave them in the care of lackeys. They were a mix of veterans recruited by John Creed and recruits from farms and villages near Karesh’kaar, young men and a few women who felt they had no future in Bardac’s. Tal had promised everyone who fought that after the war they would be permitted to settle in Olasko…assuming they won, of course. Tal watched as the last of the riders crested the rise and moved off to find a place to rest. Pack animals brought up the rear, and as they came into sight, Tal rode to the most forward camp.

 

Quint Havrevulen, John Creed, and the Barons Visniya and Stolinko waited. They had been over the plan a hundred times, but Tal said, “Once more. Report.”

 

Quint said, “Signals from our scouts to the rear show all is clear, and no one suspects we are here.”

 

Creed said, “Everyone knows his job, Tal.”

 

Tal said, “It’s in my nature to worry at this point.”

 

Visniya said, “When the Keshians land, they’ll find key defenses have been left unattended, or orders are confused. We have friends who will ensure the outer city defense is token at best.”

 

Stolinko said, “It was never much anyway, given the layout of the city. By sundown tomorrow, Kaspar’s forces will either be in full retreat in the city or already behind the walls of the citadel.”

 

 

 

Tal nodded. It would take a full day to reach the citadel’s basement by the tunnels he had mapped. “Then at dawn in two days’ time, we take the citadel.”

 

There was something bothering him: he knew that he would have preferred to wait until all his men were in place before assaulting the citadel from within. There simply wasn’t enough room in the caves or basements for that. He had to lead two hundred men up a flight of stairs and hope that they reached the top landing before any alarm was sounded, and could hold a key corridor long enough to allow the balance of his forces to start feeding into the citadel.

 

If he or his men were trapped on that stairway, a squad of six men with swords and crossbows could hold them there for a week.

 

Tal gave his horse to a lackey, then squatted where the others sat. He pulled the glove on his right hand off and flexed it. “If I hadn’t see that stump,” said Quint, “I wouldn’t have believed your hand had ever been cut from you.”

 

Looking at his fingers as he flexed them, Tal said, “It helps to have friends who know ‘tricks.’ ”

 

“Well,” said the dour Stolinko, “I hope you have some more good ones for the next two days.”

 

John Creed said, “From what Tal’s told us, I don’t think we’re going to need tricks. This looks to be a straight-up fight, and whoever has the greatest will wins.”

 

No one said anything after that.

 

 

 

For hours they crept through the darkness. Every tenth solder carried a torch. Tal’s ability to remember details of the route after more than four years since his last visit saved them time and lives. There were treacherous falls and dead-end passages all through this region. His nocturnal explorations in his first months of service to Kaspar were serving them all well.

 

The caves were dry at this time of year, and mostly of bare rock, though occasionally a vein of hard-packed earth was exposed between rock faces. Lichen in the lower chambers gave way to dry granite walls and dusty floors as they rose to the surface. Everything smelled musty.

 

Tal paused in the last gallery of any size before reaching the outer limits of the citadel. He beckoned to a young woman, one of the freed slaves from earlier that year, and said, “Pass the word back. We rest for an hour. I’m going ahead to scout.”

 

She turned and passed the word, and Tal took a torch, lit it from one already burning, and moved on. He turned a corner and vanished down a tunnel.

 

Everything was as he remembered it, and he quickly found his way to the narrow passage that led to a storage area, which had been abandoned long ago. The only footprints on the ground in the dust were his own, grown faint after more than four years.

 

At the far end of this cave was a single door, and Tal inspected it closely before attempting to open it. It was stiff and moved slowly, but he took his time, and when it was barely wide enough to admit him, he slipped through.

 

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