“Then we lick our wounds, reorganize, and see if we can do something about that mess up the road.”
Reports were filtering back from men who had been cut off and lost for a while behind enemy lines, and who returned to fill in gaps in Erik’s knowledge of what was ahead of them. Along with Subai’s reports, carried back by his first two couriers, Erik wasn’t optimistic. The fact that no more Pathfinders had returned from Subai’s journey was also a part of that pessimism. With no firm picture of what lay closer to Ylith, Erik’s cautious nature turned his imagination to the darkest possibilities.
As best as they could determine, not only was there a vast network of fortifications at the crest of each hill and rise, but tunnels had been dug, so that reinforcements could be rushed from one location to another without being exposed to enemy attack. Erik recognized the trap inherent in the design: to attempt to bypass the fortifications left an unknown number of enemies at his back, and to stop and dig them out one at a time meant no hope of relieving the siege of Yabon.
Erik shook his head. “I’m too tired to think. At this point it seems possible that our only choice is in the manner of our defeat: either ride home and dig in at Krondor, or get butchered as we continue to push north.”
“Can we not get support from the sea?” asked Lord Richard.
Erik said, “Perhaps, up here, if we get past Quester’s View. There’re a number of coves and beaches where we could land men, but we lack enough ships to get the men there, don’t have the proper boats for a landing, and if Fadawah positions men on the bluffs above, none of our men would reach the road.”
Leland said, “You make it sound hopeless.”
Erik said, “Right now, that’s how I feel. Some sleep and a meal, and we’ll see how I feel in the morning, but either way, I’m not going to conclude anything on the basis of my feelings.”
Richard said, “For one so young, you’ve seen a great deal of war, haven’t you?”
Erik nodded. “I’m not yet twenty-six years of age, m’lord, yet I feel old in my bones.”
“Get some rest,” suggested Richard.
Erik nodded as he left the tent. He saw a soldier in the black tunic of the Crimson Eagles, and said, “Sean, where is our camp?”
“Over there, Captain,” answered the soldier as he hurried past.
Erik moved in the indicated direction and found a dozen members of his old command setting up their tents. “Bless you, Jadow,” he said when he saw his own tent already up. Erik flung himself down on the bedroll waiting for him and was asleep within seconds.
“Ring the alarm,” said Dash.
“What?” asked Patrick, a look of incredulity on his face.
“I said ring the alarm. Spread word that a Keshian army is advancing on the city, and those soldiers hidden within the city will leap to attack the positions they’re supposed to. Only instead of taking our soldiers from behind, our soldiers will be waiting for them.”
“Isn’t that extreme?” asked Duke Rufio, recently arrived from Rodez. Dash knew him slightly from his time at the King’s court in Rillanon, and knew him to be a no-nonsense sort of fellow. He was a competent administrator, an adequate military advisor, and a fair rider and swordsman, exactly the wrong man for Krondor on the brink of a crisis. Ruflo would prove a fine administrator for a talented monarch served by a brilliant general, thought Dash. Unfortunately, he had only Patrick and Dash to depend on, and Dash was now certain he would have to improvise and be dazzling else Krondor would be lost.
“Yes, Your Grace, it is extreme,” answered Dash, “but it’s better to flush them out when we’re ready for them than to have them appear behind us at the height of an attack. I’ve seen enough proof there are weapons and food caches in the sewers so that armed insurrection inside the city can commence with any attack from outside.”
“If there is any attack,” said Patrick. He remained dubious about the entire possibility. He was convinced that negotiations underway at Stardock would eventually yield a solution. Even the revelation that Malar Enares had been a Keshian spy, and the lack of response to an inquiry about Jimmy’s arrival at Port Vykor, didn’t persuade him there was the risk of a surprise attack against the capital of the Western Realm.
Dash had never been close to Patrick. More of an age with Jimmy and Francie, Dash had always been the “tag-along” as children, and during the period when Dash and Jimmy had been tossed out of the palace to learn in the rough and tumble of the docks at Rillanon, Patrick had been visiting the eastern courts, learning diplomacy. Even as young men, Dash and Patrick had felt little affinity for one another. Dash was sure Patrick had redeeming qualities, but at this moment, he couldn’t begin to think what they were.