Belial studied the map before him. “Their most direct route into Achar is past Jervois Landing.”
“What about the WildDog Plains?” Arne queried. “That route would give them straight run through to Skarabost.”
Belial leaned back and looked at Arne. “We’ll have to plan for that eventuality, but I don’t think Gorgrael will send his main force that way. The River Nordra is a natural barrier between the WildDog Plains and Skarabost. Remember how the River Andakilsa funnelled them through the Gorken Pass.” “Is there any chance they can isolate us from our supply routes, Belial?” Azhure largely had responsibility for the garrison’s stores.
Belial started to say “No”, then looked at the map again. “If they do push down the WildDog Plains they could cut off HoldHard Pass.”
“If, if, if.” Magariz’s voice was tight with strain. “Always if. Must we sit here and wait for their first move?” , “There isn’t much else we can do, Magariz,” Belial replied shortly. “Our force is currently too small to scout any further than the southern and eastern Urqhart Hills. And Axis…”
There was silence. When would Axis get back? Azhure briefly laid a hand on her belly.
“We need Axis,” Belial finished. “And we need the Strike Force’s scouting abilities. Magariz, is there no more news regarding the Strike Force?”
“No, Belial. The last intelligence we had from their farflight scouts was that they’d arrive in three weeks’ time.”
Belial sighed. “Well, whatever our problems, Borneheld undoubtedly faces far worse. Last night I received word from the scouts I’d sent into Jervois Landing. The news is good and bad, my friends. Borneheld has ordered a series of canals be constructed between the Nordra and Azle rivers to create a barrier of running water. Borneheld has enough men that, with the aid of the canals, he may have a chance of holding Gorgrael’s Skraelings to Ichtar this winter.”
“And the bad news,” Arne put in, “must be that if Borneheld manages to blunt the Skraeling danger he’ll have a battle-hardened army to throw at us. Borneheld will indulge his hatred of Axis with everything he’s got.”
“Well, we must have roughly the same number of forces,” said Magariz carefully, watching Belial. “And as good.”
Belial was silent.
“How many forces does Borneheld command at Jervois Landing, Belial?” Azhure asked finally.
Belial took a deep breath. “At best estimate, almost twenty thousand.”
All three started forward, and Arne swore viciously.
” Twenty thousand?” Magariz repeated. “But where could he have got so many? At the most we had fourteen thousand at Gorkenfort — and Borneheld had almost stripped Achar bare to get those. We lost some six thousand in the fighting, three thousand left with us to follow Axis…why, Borneheld would have left Gorkenfort with only some five thousand men. Belial, your information must be wrong!”
Belial shook his head. “I wish it were, my friend, I wish it were. No, Borneheld has at least twenty thousand in Jervois Landing. My spies tell me that the Ravensbund chief, one Ho’Demi, brought at least eleven thousand men to Borne-held’s cause. And Borneheld also has the use of all the refugees who fled Ichtar before the Skraelings, plus the soldiers who fled Sigholt itself. At the least twenty thousand. Probably more.”
There was silence. With the Icarii they would number at best five thousand. It would be a fierce and bloody fight for control of Achar.
Azhure tapped the table, thinking aloud. “But Borneheld will have to fight on two fronts. He will always have to keep an army at Jervois Landing to keep the Skraelings back, and once Axis takes command here he will undoubtedly move down through Skarabost before he swings west towards Carlon. Borneheld will have to split his force.”
Belial studied her. “You’re right, Azhure. But Axis will have to do the same thing. If he moves down into Achar with his main force, then he will still have to leave a good force here in Sigholt to guard the WildDog Plains. The last thing Axis will want is to have Gorgrael attack him from his rear while he’s trying to defeat Borneheld.”
“Well, don’t forget you also have my pack of fifteen Alaunt.” Azhure grinned. “They might well tip the balance in our favour.”
The men stared at her for a moment, then they guffawed with laughter.
“Enough of Borneheld and the Skraelings,” Belial said, grateful to Azhure for breaking the tension. “At the moment the influx of refugees into Sigholt is almost as worrying.”
When Belial had first occupied Sigholt he had sent small bands of men down into Skarabost to scout out possible supply routes and spread word of the Prophecy. The organisation of supply routes was going well, but news of the Prophecy was now attracting so many people to Sigholt that it was rapidly representing a major new problem. Small groups — sometimes only four or five, sometimes twenty or thirty – had started to arrive some four weeks ago and the numbers had grown steadily ever since.
“Belial, I am sure there is no need to look so worried,” Azhure said. “You should be pleased that so many see fit to flock to Axis’ cause.”
“Don’t lecture me!” Belial snapped, “just tell me what you’ve done with them.” As well as training her three squads of mounted archers, Azhure had also assumed responsibility for feeding, accommodating and generally organising the new arrivals.
“I’ve managed to accommodate them in tents on the north-eastern shores of the Lake. We have enough food for the moment, and many of them have brought their own. And soon we’ll have additional food to supplement what we get via our supply routes.”
“Really? How so?” asked Magariz.
Azhure glanced out the window. “Since the Lake has sprung to life, so have the Urqhart Hills. I set the larger number of refugees to clearing and digging vegetable gardens. They were planted some two weeks ago, and the first vegetables are nearing maturity now. It is the waters, apparently, that encourage new life.”
“Good.” Belial nodded, then looked to Arne. “Any fighters among them?”
Arne shrugged. “Most are peasants, driven to hunger by the extremity of the previous winter, and clinging to any story or rumour that promises mem a better life. But many of the younger men are strong, many are eager. They can wield a stave with the best of them.”
“Do they want to fight for Axis,” Belial asked, “or are they just streaming into Sigholt because it promises some refuge from Gorgrael’s icy winds?”
“A bit of both, I think,” Magariz answered. “Many Acharites have been scared by the news of the fall of Gorkenfort and the loss of Ichtar. They wonder if the Star-Man the Prophecy speaks of might be the one to save them, rather than Borneheld. And you know the reputation Axis enjoyed as BattleAxe. Still, from what I can gather, it is only a tiny fraction of the population of Skarabost that seeks to wend its way north. Most either prefer to stay with their homes, with what they know, or are scared by the idea that the Prophecy speaks of an alliance with the Forbidden.”
Belial sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Well, I hope they won’t jump too much when the Strike Force drops out of the sky.”
Magariz reined in his horse, waving at the patrol behind him to stay out of sight. He turned in the saddle and looked for Azhure. They were on an extended patrol in the southern Urqhart Hills, the River Nordra only half a league away to the south. This was dangerous territory. Not only were there Skraelings about, but Borneheld’s forces had been increasing their patrols here as well. The last patrol Belial sent into this area had encountered a well-armed band of twenty men from Jervois Landing. In the skirmish that followed both sides lost almost half their men. Thus the presence of Azhure and two squads of her archers on this patrol – they had already proved their worth.
Magariz motioned Azhure forward. They had been out some eight days, scouting the southern hills to test the strength of both Skraelings and Borneheld’s forces. Already they’d encountered small bands of Skraelings, and Azhure had proved as calm and reliable in battle as she was around the conference table. Her archers had conducted themselves as well as their leader, and when they returned Magariz would recommend to Belial that Azhure be given several more squads. The Alaunt were also showing themselves to be useful in battle. The day before yesterday they had encountered a band of about two hundred Skraelings, braver and better organised than most. Azhure had directed her archers, then motioned to the hounds, sending them in among the Skraelings. Magariz had been horrified, thinking that if the Alaunt survived the Skraelings then they’d be murdered by the arrows raining down among them. But the Alaunt weaved and ducked, knowing instinctively when an arrow sped their way, and they pulled down as many Skraelings as Azhure’s archers. Both archers and hounds had kept the patrols injuries minimal.