Oakleaf Bearers

21

G ENERAL H AZ'KAM, COMMANDER OF THE T EMUJAI INVASION force, looked up from his meal as his deputy entered the tent. Even though Nit'zak was by no means a tall man, he had to stoop as he came through the low opening. The general gestured to the cushions that were scatted on the felt rug floor and Nit'zak lowered himself to sit on one of them, uttering a sigh of relief. He had been in the saddle the past five hours, checking up and down the length of the Temujai column.

Haz'kam shoved the fragrant bowl of meat stew that he had been eating across to the other man and indicated for him to help himself. Nit'zak nodded his thanks, took a smaller bowl from the rug between them and scooped several handfuls into it, wincing slightly as his hand made contact with the hot food. He selected a large chunk and scooped it into his mouth, chewing heartily and nodding his appreciation.

"Good," he said finally. Haz'kam's concubine-the general never brought any of his three wives on campaign with him-was an excellent cook. The general considered that ability of far greater importance during a campaign than any physical beauty. He nodded now, belched softly and pushed his own eating bowl away. The woman moved quickly forward to remove it, then returned to her position against the curved felt wall of the tent.

"So," the general asked. "What did you find?"

Nit'zak screwed his face into an expression of distaste-not at the next morsel of food, but at the subject matter he was about to report.

"They hit us again this evening," he replied. "This time in two places. Once at the tail of the column. They stampeded a small herd of horses there. It'll take half the day tomorrow to recover them. Then another group came in from the coastal side and burned half a dozen supply wagons."

Haz'kam looked up in surprise. "From the coast?" he asked, and his deputy nodded confirmation. Up until now, the nuisance raids mounted by the Skandians had been launched from the thickly wooded hills inland from the narrow coastal flatlands. The raiders would dash out, strike an undefended part of the column, then retreat into the cover of the forests and the hills where pursuit would be too risky. This new eventuality complicated things.

"They seem to have several of their ships at sea," the deputy told him. "They stay out of sight during the day, then steal in after dark and land troops to hit us. Then they retreat to sea once more."

Haz'kam probed with his tongue at a piece of meat wedged between two back teeth. "Where, of course, we can't follow them," he said.

Nit'zak nodded. "It means now that we'll have to cover both sides of the column," he said.

Haz'kam muttered a low curse. "It's slowing us down," he said.

Each morning, hours were wasted as the massive column formed up in disciplined ranks for the day's march. And, of course, once the march began, the pace was limited by the slowest sections of the column-which were the supply carts and the baggage train. It had been much faster simply moving as one vast mass.

Nit'zak agreed. "So is the problem of having to screen the camp each night."

Haz'kam took a deep swig of the fermented barley drink that the Temujai favored, then handed the leather drinking skin to Nit'zak.

"It's not what I expected," he said. "They're far more organized than our intelligence had led us to believe."

Nit'zak drank deeply and gratefully. He shrugged. In his experience, intelligence was usually inaccurate at best and dead wrong at worst.

"I know," he said. "Everything we'd heard about these people led me to believe that they would simply attack us in a frontal assault, without any overall strategy. I'd half expected that we'd be finished with them by now."

Haz'kam pondered. "Perhaps they're still gathering their main force. I suppose we have no option but to continue as we are. I imagine they'll finally make a stand when we reach their capital. Although now we'll take longer to do that."

Nit'zak hesitated for a moment with the next suggestion. Then he said: "Of course, General, we could simply continue as we were, and accept the losses their raids are causing. They're quite sustainable, you know."

It was a typically callous Temujai suggestion. If the loss of lives or supplies could be balanced out by greater speed, it might well be worthwhile opting for that course. Haz'kam shook his head. But not through any sense of care for the people under his command.

"If we don't respond, we have no way of knowing that they won't hit us with a major raid," he pointed out. "They could have hundreds of men in those mountains and if they chose to change from pinprick attacks to a major assault, we'd be in big trouble. We're a long way from home, you know."

Nit'zak nodded his acquiescence. That idea hadn't occurred to him. Still, he demurred slightly.

"That isn't the sort of thing we've been led to believe they're capable of," he pointed out, and Haz'kam's eyes met his and locked onto them.

"Neither is this," he said softly, and when the younger man's eyes dropped from his, he added, "Have the men keep forming into their sixties for each day's march. And I suppose now we'd better put sentries out on the seaward side at night too."

Nit'zak muttered his assent. He hesitated a few seconds, wondering if this were one of those times when his commander wanted to continue to talk and pass the drinking skin back and forth for a few hours. But Haz'kam waved him away with a small hand gesture. Nit'zak thought that the general looked tired. For a moment, he thought about the years they had spent on campaign together and realized that Haz'kam was no longer a young man. Neither was he, he thought, as the ache in his knees testified. He bowed his head in a perfunctory salute, rose to his feet with another barely suppressed groan and went, crouching, out through the felt hanging that covered the tent doorway.

In the distance, he heard men shouting. Looking in the direction from which the noise came, he saw a bright flare of flame against the night sky. He cursed softly. The damned Skandians were raiding again, he thought.

A troop of horsemen clattered by him, heading for the site of the attack. He watched them go, tempted for a moment to join them, but resisting the temptation as he realized that by the time they reached the point of the attack, the enemy would be long gone.