Heart of Black Ice

CHAPTER 11

The great army of General Utros consisted of as many tactical details as there were soldiers. As the general planned the conquest of the Old World, his greatest challenges were administrative.

In the late afternoon, he stood outside his pavilion and stared across the sweeping encampment, deep in thought as the sun lowered behind the mountains to the west. His tactical mind was a complex series of turning wheels, one thought changing another as he considered the consequences of his actions. He touched the gold mask that covered the left half of his face, a price he had been forced to pay. Consequences …

Although he understood his army’s dire situation better than any of his soldiers did, he refused to let desperation press him into making another brash choice. He would plan his next move carefully, using his insights, experience, and strategic knowledge. He listened to the camp sounds as his hungry troops settled for the night. They gathered around communal bonfires to tell stories of their lost loved ones or to play ancient gambling games.

After the devastating setbacks—the mayhem of the titanic Ixax warriors, the return of the gray dragon, the fiery transference magic—his subcommanders had reported the actual tally of losses only to Utros. He could not let the masses understand just how terrible a blow they had suffered, because his army must never learn that true defeat was possible.

The bodies of the fallen were swiftly burned in funeral pyres to disguise the vast numbers of corpses. Also, so they would not feel the constant reminder of their fallen comrades, Utros reorganized his entire fighting force, reassigning the surviving soldiers into new companies under new subcommanders, so they would not immediately see how many comrades they had lost.

The greatest blow, though, was the loss of Ildakar itself.

Utros turned toward the end of the valley and the sheer drop-off to the river lowlands. The whole city was gone, as if it had never existed. His explicit purpose, burned into him by Emperor Kurgan so long ago, had been to conquer Ildakar. That was the reason he and his vast army had marched through the mountains down from Orogang, and now their primary goal had been snatched away.

Utros knew he had little time. He pressed his mask against the hard scar of his cheek. The pain in the stripped side of his face sent twinges into his skull. For now, his men still had faith in him. They trusted their general, swore deeper loyalty to him than they had ever felt toward Iron Fang. Utros would not let them down, but he had to give them something to hold on to, some new hope, an attainable goal. He would rally them, fire their determination.

Ava stepped out from the pavilion’s shade. She had applied black soot and dark red paint in incomprehensible designs over her breasts and flat stomach, then donned her filmy blue gown. She was breathtakingly beautiful, like her twin, and she was equally terrifying. She reached out to stroke his thick biceps. “My sister is returning, beloved Utros.” Her touch lingered on the embossed design on his copper armband. “I sense her.”

His gaze was drawn to the scar that ran along her outer thigh where her leg had been fused with her sister’s at birth, before their father had hacked them apart as babies. Though they were physically separated, their Han remained connected.

Ava gestured with her chin toward where a large party trotted out of the northern hills through the scorched grasses. Several hundred mounted soldiers led a train of wagons and pack mules loaded with sacks of grain and casks of ale, and they also drove sheep, cattle, goats, and a few yaxen. Even from a distance, Utros recognized First Commander Enoch and the pale, painted figure of Ruva at the front of the party.

Groups at separate campfires let out cheers when they saw the supplies. Throughout the day, dozens of scattered raiding parties had returned with whatever provisions they could liberate from villages or isolated homes in the hills. The trickle of food was enough to reassure the army, for now.

Utros was confident none of his soldiers could complete the calculations of just how many sacks of grain, how many cattle, sheep, goats, chickens, deer, or boar, were needed to feed more than a hundred thousand mouths. He had to find a solution before his army understood the magnitude of the problem.

Utros retrieved his imposing helmet adorned with two curved horns from an abominable bull that the fleshmancers of Ildakar had sent against his army in the early days.

As the returning party rode through the cheering camp, Ava slipped her arm through the general’s and strolled at his side, protecting him with her beauty as well as her powerful gift. Enoch and Ruva rode up to report to the general. His veteran subcommander had a grizzled, craggy face adorned with numerous battle scars that gave him character. Enoch removed his helmet and wiped a palm over his bristly gray hair. “Our mission was a success, General.”

“I can see that.” Utros watched the wagons move among the camped troops, distributing the commandeered supplies and meat animals to the companies. Utros lowered his voice. “The animals should all be slaughtered tonight. We don’t have the means to feed and keep them. Give everyone a full meal.”

Enoch looked grim. “This food won’t last long, sir.”

“I’m aware of that. Did you have any difficulty?”

Ruva answered with a strangely malicious smile. “No.”

When Utros gave his first commander a curious look, Enoch explained, “The town of Hanavir had many supplies, but we encountered unexpected resistance.”

“The townspeople fought back? Against five hundred armed warriors?”

The old veteran shook his head. “No, there were two stray wizards. You remember the one with white hair known as Nathan Rahl?”

Utros pressed his lips together. “Yes, he fancied himself a historian and informed me that my name is legend.” He tasted the bitter sarcasm in his throat. “Nathan is also the one who told me of the fall of Emperor Kurgan. It was he who told me what really happened to my dear Majel.” Bile rose in his throat every time he thought of that sweet woman, how her own husband had skinned her alive to get his revenge.

The gold mask felt heavy on his face, and Utros adjusted it against his cheekbone. “But Nathan’s gift was gone, was it not? He seemed impotent as a wizard. How did he fight you?”

“His gift is back,” Ruva said. “He and one other wizard from Ildakar, a man named Renn, attempted to protect the town. But we defeated them.”

Utros was pleased but perplexed. “You defeated two wizards? How?”

“Compassion was their weakness,” Enoch said. “We couldn’t fight their gift directly, but we slew some innocent townspeople and threatened to kill them all if they did not relent. The two wizards escaped, and we took all the supplies.”

With a haughty sniff, Ruva said, “We should have killed the townspeople anyway, just to punish them.”

“Those were not my orders,” Enoch responded with a hint of anger. “My priority was to commandeer supplies to feed our troops, not to secure some petty revenge.”

“It wouldn’t have taken long,” the sorceress said flippantly, but she deferred.

They watched the carts being unloaded, so many soldiers dividing up the supplies. Second Commanders Halders and Arros directed the activity.

“The soldiers will follow orders until the hunger in their bellies convinces them otherwise.” Utros shook his head. “We can’t just stay encamped in this worthless valley. Ildakar is gone, as are all its supplies. There is no reason to remain. Our army has to move, and soon.”

“We have a continent to conquer,” Ava said.

“We dare not let King Grieve have it all,” Ruva said.

The thought made Utros ill. He looked across the valley. “We break camp at dawn and march westward at a swift, even brutal, pace. Our food will run out before long.” He lowered his voice. “When we were partly stone, our bellies were quiet. We did not appreciate the blessing that went hand in hand with that curse. Now this army must hold itself together long enough to cross over the mountains.”

“You will hold the army together,” Ruva said.

Utros couldn’t drive away the cold knot in his chest. In the past month he had already dispatched dozens of expeditionary armies with thousands of men to plant the banner of Utros across the landscape. Now he would have to strip every resource they could find just to keep the huge army moving.

But he looked forward to the march.