“They have no transport. It will take them the better part of an hour before they can reach the fighting,” Okatar grumbled.
“Then we had better start them now.”
“Yes, send them off.” Okatar paced along the crest of the hill. The breeze was blowing down from the higher hills toward the valley floor, so mat the smoke and noise of the battle was carried away from him.
“Why did they retreat?” Okatar demanded. “The frontal attack did not fool them. They did not hold their ground. They retreated. Why? Did they know that we would attack their flanks? If they had advanced, or even held their ground, our double flank attack would have overwhelmed them. Now—the issue is in doubt.”
“Their commander made a lucky guess,” one of the nobles answered. “Our men will still prevail over them.”
“But at what cost? Our losses will be very heavy.”
“For every man who falls today,” another noble predicted, “a hundred Komani warriors will join your standards tomorrow. This victory will establish you as the leader of all the clans, everywhere.”
Okatar looked hard at the noble. “If we have a victory today.”
“Surely you don’t think that the Terrans could defeat us!”
“Not of themselves,” Okatar replied. “But we have traitors in our camp. Men in whom our trust is misplaced. Perhaps …”
A communications technician jumped up from his field table and dashed over to the Kang-
**What is it?” Okatar demanded.
The tech bowed quickly and answered, “Reports from our men holding the far hills, on the other side of the valley, sire. They have been under attack since the sun rose, and steadily forced back. If they are not reinforced, the Terrans will drive them from their positions and open an escape lane out of the valley,”