Miranda said, ‘Instead of dozens of Dasati rushing into this world each minute, there’ll be thousands.’
Alenburga nodded, as if this confirmed his worst fears. ‘We need to regroup. Men are dying needlessly down there.’ He saw a brilliant flash of light near the edge of the sphere and said, ‘And not only soldiers. Get the magicians out of there, Miranda.’
Miranda, not used to military protocol did not immediately leap to do his bidding but said, ‘Why? They are doing the most harm to the Dasati.’
Patiently, the General explained. ‘True, but when they are tired from killing Deathknights, they become easy prey for the Deathpriests. I’m guessing the Dasati have a great many more Deathpriests to spend than we have magicians. Besides, I have a better use for our magicians than throwing huge balls of fire around.’
‘What?’ persisted Miranda, as the General turned and began walking down the hill.
He turned. ‘I rarely have to explain myself,’ he said, ‘but you are no soldier, and I need you to be clear about what I propose, so that you can make these Tsurani Great Ones understand. More than anything else, the one advantage we possess is the terrain. I may not know it well, but Lord Jeurin and the other Tsurani field commanders do, and we must use that advantage. The second benefit you’re about to gain us is something any field commander would sell his soul for: rapid communications. If the Tsurani magicians don’t find it beneath their dignity, they can rapidly carry commands and intelligence between the battlefield and my headquarters, and we will profit immeasurably. Battle plans and tactics rarely survive the first hour of a fight, and the general who can adapt the quickest, who can order his troops to the best position available fastest, will win the day, even if his forces are outnumbered.’
‘So you think we can defeat the Dasati?’ asked Miranda.
‘No. It’s going to be impossible. We’re losing thirty soldiers to each of theirs, and while we have an advantage in the power of the magicians, they are mortal and will fatigue. Eventually enough of them will fall that that seemingly endless flood of Deathpriests will overwhelm whoever’s left. No, all we can do is slow them down, and the more time we gain, the more time you have.’
‘For what?’ she asked.
‘To get as many people through the rift and off this world as you can. We will fail. Barring some intervention by the gods, we cannot hold this world. We must evacuate.’
Miranda was silent for a moment, then she said, ‘I understand. I will get to the Assembly with all haste and begin to prepare a way for us to evacuate as many as we can.’
‘I don’t know where you’re going to put them,’ said the old general from Muboya, ‘but anyone you can’t get though the rifts will die here.’
As Miranda vanished, Alenburga saw Erik von Darkmoor looking at him quizzically. ‘What?’
Erik said, ‘You’re going to stay, aren’t you?’
‘And you?’
‘I’m a lot older than you, my newfound friend. If anyone should stay to the last, it should be me.’
Alenburga smiled. ‘And I, my newfound friend, think it would be impossible to go back to sitting around a table with my lord ruler, listening to political chat and social gossip, knowing I quit this struggle too soon. I have no wish to die, but if I’m going to survive, I’ll be the last one through the rift, and if I die, let it be saving as many lives as I can save.’
Erik nodded, smiled, and put his hand on the General’s shoulder. ‘I wish we could have met sooner.’
‘I wish it as well. I’m tired of Kaspar beating me at chess, and I hear you’re not particularly good at the game.’
Erik laughed, despite the carnage below. But after a moment, the mirth died as he turned his thoughts to the bloody business ahead.
Martuch, Hirea, Valko and Magnus watched as Pug closed his eyes. He said, ‘I have only done this a few times on my world, and never here, so I do not know how likely I am to succeed.’
Pug was attempting to use mystic sight to peer above the hidden room in the Grove of Delmat-Ama and see what the sudden eruption of noise was. It sounded as if thousands of people were racing through the orchard above, making far more noise than had been heard even during the height of the Great Culling.
Pug’s vision rose through the darkness that was the solid soil beneath the grove, and suddenly he could see. He had never been rigorous in practising this particular spell and wasn’t especially gifted at it. But within a moment he had no doubt as to what was occurring up there.
He opened his eyes. ‘They’re killing everyone.’
‘Who?’ asked Martuch.
‘Everyone,’ Pug repeated. ‘The TeKarana’s legion is herding everyone towards the Black Temple. It’s as if they’re beating the brush to drive vermin from a field or herding game animals towards hunters.’