Again, he blew out a breath; and, again, it was a spit. “As for the tactics, they make perfect sense—if you look at it Link’s way. The truth is, the Malwa have already lost this army, and Link knows it. The monster knows we must have already destroyed all the supplies in Charax—or have them ready for destruction, at least.”
“Which we have!” barked Coutzes.
Belisarius nodded. “So why bother with clever tactics? And they can’t use the Ye-tai they have left as spearhead troops. Not any longer. After the casualties they’ve taken, they need those Ye-tai to maintain control of the regulars. If those poor bastards hadn’t already been so beaten down—” Belisarius shook his head. “Most armies, by now, after what they’ve suffered, would have already mutinied.”
He rubbed his hand against the rough wall behind his back. The gesture was accompanied by another shake of the head, as if Belisarius was contemplating the absurdity of trying to wear down stone with flesh.
“The truth is, Coutzes,” he said softly, “what you’re seeing is kind of a compliment. If I were an egotistical man, I’d be preening like a rooster.”
Coutzes frowned. Belisarius’ smile grew very crooked. “The one thing Link is bound and determined to do—the one thing it wants to salvage out of this catastrophe—is to obliterate me. Me, and the whole damned army that’s caused Malwa more grief than all their other opponents put together.”
Coutzes grinned from ear to ear. “You really think we’ve become that much of a pain in the ass to it?”
Belisarius snorted. “Pain in the ass? It’d be better to say—pain in the belly.” He gave the young officer squatting next to him a look which was both serious and solemn. “Know this, Coutzes. Whether we survive or not, we have already gutted Malwa. Whatever happens, the invasion of Persia is over. Finished. Malwa can no longer even hope to launch another war of conquest. Not for years, at least. Link will try to salvage what it can of this army—which won’t be much. But after the Nehar Malka, and Charax—”
He groped for an illustration. Aide provided it.
In not much more than a year, Belisarius, you have given the Malwa their own Stalingrad and Kursk. Link can only do, now, what Hitler did. Try to hold what it can, and retreat as little as possible. But it is the defender, from this day forward, not the aggressor.
Belisarius nodded. He did not attempt to provide his young subordinate with all the history which went behind Aide’s statement, but he gave him the gist.
“Coutzes, there will be another great war against evil, in the future—or would have been, at least. Aide just reminded me of it.”
He had Coutzes’ undivided attention, now. The young Thracian knew of Aide. He had seen him. But, like all of Belisarius’ officers, he thought of the crystal being as simply the Talisman of God. A pronouncement from Aide, so far as Coutzes was concerned, was as close to divine infallibility as any man would ever encounter.
Belisarius smiled, seeing that look of awe.
What are you grinning about? demanded Aide. The facets flashed. For an instant, Belisarius had an image of a crystalline rooster, prancing about with unrestrained self-glory. I think “divine infallibility” fits me to perfection. Why don’t you understand that obvious truth?
Again, the facets flashed. Belisarius choked down a laugh. The crystalline rooster, for just a split second, had been staring at him with beady, accusing eyes. A barnyard fowl, demanding its just due. A combed and feathered deity, much aggrieved by agnostic insolence.
Belisarius waved his hand, as much to still Aide’s humor as to illustrate his next words. “There came a time in that war, Coutzes, when the armies of wickedness were broken. Broken, not destroyed. But from that time forward, they could only retreat. They could only hold what they had, in the hopes that someday, in the future, they might be able to start their war of conquest anew.”
Belisarius snarled, now. “Those foul beasts—they were called Nazis—were never given that chance. Their enemies, after breaking them, pressed on to their destruction.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the inhuman monster lurking somewhere behind the wall. “Link knows that history as well as I do. And the thing, whatever else, is bound and determined to see that neither I—nor any of the soldiers of this magnificent army—are alive to participate in any future wars. Or else, it knows full well—”