Twice they had come close to disaster, narrowly escaping along the retreat route, and at each new position along the way fresh reserves were waiting. Erik was still far from optimistic about the success of the plan, but he was inching closer.
Since the fall of Krondor they had regained a week of the lost time; they had held here for ten days instead of seven. Now they had to fight a delaying action as they withdrew, slowing the enemy down by making them think there was going to be strong resistance in Wilhelmsburg. If they could keep the enemy cautious, they might be where they wished to be when the fighting reached Darkmoor. Every time Erik thought of the plan to hold the enemy on this side of the mountains, he wondered if they were going to be cursed with a late winter.
One advantage had been the arrival of a man named Robert d’Lyes, a magician who had several useful spells.
He could send messages up the line quickly to another magician who was staying with Greylock, and he could tell what the weather was going to be like the next day. He also could see things better than a man with a spyglass, though he could do so only for a limited duration; and he lacked Erik’s knowledge of what to look for, but he seemed to be catching on.
Other magicians were now scattered throughout the defenders’ army, helping in whatever fashion they could. For this Erik was grateful. He didn’t understand why the Pantathians were so conspicuous by their absence. Eventually they would take a hand, and when they did, Erik hoped the Kingdom magicians could counteract some of their advantage.
D’Lyes came to Erik’s side and said, ‘General Greylock wants to know if you expect an attack today.’
Erik said, ‘Almost certainly.’
Erik glanced around. To the north the hills faded quickly into the late-afternoon haze. They were entering the hilly vineyards and groves he had known as a boy. To the uninitiated, the terrain looked less severe than the low hills to the west, but it wasn’t. Unexpected ridges and gullies could trap an enemy, slowing an advance. In the fervent hope this was going to be the case, Erik had positioned his most seasoned soldiers in key locations to the limit of his area. He would have to rely on Captain Subai and his Pathfinders and Hadati - what Greylock called ‘The Krondorian Mixed Command’ - to hold beyond that point.
To the south, Erik threw his larger contingent, fresh replacements who were as yet untried. They would have an easier time of it because of the terrain, but they were also less ready to fight. Many of those carrying arms were town boys who had drilled less than two months and had never smelled blood.
Erik said, ‘Ask Greylock to be ready to support me to the south. I think my north flank is secure.’
The magician closed his eyes, and his brow knitted in concentration; he said, ‘The message is understood.’ Then he sat down, obviously dizzy.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Erik.
The magician nodded. ‘It’s just that I don’t usually do this sort of thing more than once or twice a month. Once or twice a day is a bit much.’
‘Well, I’ll try to keep message traffic to a minimum.’ He smiled. ‘I just wish I had more like you in a dozen locations.’
The magician nodded. ‘As long as we’re useful.’
‘More than useful,’ said Erik. ‘You may prove vital.’
‘Thank you,’ said the magician. T am willing to help in whatever way I can.’
Erik waited, and as the enemy staged below he found himself wondering aloud, ‘What is this, then?’
‘Captain?’ asked the magician.
‘Just curious. They are staging for an assault, but it looks badly coordinated.’
‘How can you tell?’
Erik said, ‘This army we face is made up mostly of mercenaries: good fighters individually, but possessing almost no skills for large-scale fighting; they’re used to winning by overwhelming whomever they face.’ He pointed to a small patch of uniformed men with green banners flying overhead. ‘That’s what’s left of the regular army of Maharta, which surrendered pretty much intact after the city fell. It’s the only trained heavy infantry they possess. The other soldiers on foot are men whose horses were left behind or whose animals died along the way. They’re useless for anything except swarming over a breach.’ Erik scratched his chin and felt four days’ growth.
‘I think I understand, but I may not. Are you saying they should have placed their men in a different arrangement?’ asked the magician.
‘Yes,’ said Erik. ‘The cavalry has to charge over hilly terrain, while the heavy infantry is being directed at the most heavily defended area of the line. The rest of the army looks poised to charge right across open territory where our catapults and archers will carve them up.’