Oakleaf Bearers

22

T HE S KANDIAN W AR C OUNCIL WAS MEETING IN THE G REAT Hall. Will sat to one side, listening as Halt addressed the Skandian leader and his principal advisers. Borsa, Erak and two other senior jarls, Lorak and Ulfak, flanked the Oberjarl as they clustered around the table where Halt had spread an immense map of Skandia. The Ranger tapped a spot on the map with the point of his saxe knife.

"As of last night," he said, "the Temujai were here. Maybe sixty kilometers away from Hallasholm. The delaying raids are having exactly the sort of effect we wanted. The advance has gone from thirty kilometers a day to less than twelve."

"Shouldn't cavalry move faster than that?" asked Ulfak. Halt perched one leg on the bench beside the table and shook his head.

"They'll move fast enough when they're fighting," he told them. "But right now, they're conserving their horses' strength, letting them feed and move easily. Besides, now that we've reinforced Olgak's men with another half dozen raiding groups, it's taking them half the day to simply form up, then set up camp again in the evening."

He glanced up at Erak as he added: "Your idea of sending a few wolfships to raid their seaward flank was a good one."

The jarl nodded. "It seemed logical," he replied. "It's what we're good at, after all."

Ragnak thumped one massive fist on the pine planks that formed the table.

"Raids and skirmishes, nuisance attacks! They achieve nothing! It's time we hit them with our main force and settle this once and for all," he declared, and three of his council growled agreement.

"There'll be plenty of time for that," Halt cautioned. "The most important thing is to engage them in a place that suits us-one that we choose ourselves."

Again, the Oberjarl snarled. He knew he'd agreed to listen to Halt's advice. But these damned invaders had been flaunting themselves in his country now for several weeks. It was an affront to him and to every Skandian and he wanted to wipe the affront out, or die in the attempt. "What's the difference where we fight them?" he said. "A fight is a fight. We win or we lose. But if we do lose, we'll take plenty of them with us!"

Halt removed his foot from the bench and stood straight, ramming the saxe knife back into its scabbard.

"Oh, don't worry," he said icily. "There's every chance that we'll lose. But let's make sure we take as many of them with us as possible, shall we?" The Skandians, used to bluster and boasting, were taken aback by his cold assessment of their chances for survival-as he had intended them to be.

"They're cavalry," he continued. "They outnumber us at least four to one. They can outmaneuver us, outrun us. And they'll look for the widest possible front to engage us on. That way, all the advantages are with them. They'll flank us, surround us and draw us out if they can." He saw that he had their attention. They weren't happy about the situation, but at least they were prepared to listen.

"How will they do that?" Erak asked. He and Halt had discussed this briefing the day before. Halt wanted certain questions to be asked, and Erak was to ask them if none of the others seemed prepared to do so. The Ranger glanced quickly at Erak, but directed his answer to all of the group.

"It's a standard tactic of theirs," he said. "They'll attack on a wide front, probing, hitting and retiring. Then they'll appear to become fully engaged at one or two given points. They'll stop their hit-and-run tactics and fight a pitched battle-just the sort of thing that will suit your men," he added, glancing at Ragnak. The Oberjarl nodded.

"Then," Halt continued, "they will begin to lose. Their attack will lose its cohesion and they will try to withdraw."

"Good!" said Borsa, and the two other jarls grunted agreement. Ragnak, however, sensed that there was more to come. He didn't comment for the moment, but gestured for Halt to continue. The Ranger obliged.

"They'll give ground. Slowly at first, then faster and faster as panic seems to set in. Somehow they'll never move so fast that your men lose contact with them. Gradually, more and more of your warriors will be drawn out of our line, away from the shield wall, away from our defenses. As they pursue the enemy, the Temujai will become more and more desperate. At least, they'll seem to. Then, at the right moment, they'll turn."

"Turn?" said the Oberjarl. "How do you mean?"

"They'll stop retreating when your men are strung out and in the open-the strongest and fastest well ahead of their comrades. Suddenly, they'll find themselves cut off, surrounded by the Temujai cavalry. And remember, every one of their cavalrymen is an expert archer. They won't bother coming to close quarters. They can pick your men off at their leisure. And the more they kill the leaders, the more enraged those behind will become. They'll stream out to save their friends-or avenge them. They'll be surrounded in turn. And wiped out."

He paused. The five Skandians all looked at him, struck silent. They could imagine the scenario he described. They knew the temper of their men and could see how easily such a stratagem could succeed against them.

"This is how they fight?" Ragnak asked finally.

"I've seen it, Oberjarl. Time and time again, I've seen it. They aren't concerned with glory in battle. Only efficient killing. They'll challenge our warriors to single combat, then ambush them with ten or twenty warriors at a time. If they can't shoot to kill immediately, they'll shoot to disable. Even your strongest warriors can't continue with ten to fifteen arrow wounds in the legs. Then, when they're helpless, the Temujai will kill them."

He swept his gaze around the table. Satisfied that they could all see the danger that faced them, he sat down, straddling the bench. Finally, it was Borsa, the hilfmann, who broke the long silence that had fallen in the room.

"So:where do you want to engage them?" he asked. Halt spread his hands wide in a questioning gesture.

"Why engage them at all?" he asked. "We have time to withdraw before they arrive. We could move into the hills and the forest and keep hitting them as they come farther and farther along the coastal plain here."

"Run away, you mean?" Ragnak asked, his tone angry.

Halt nodded several times. "Yes. Run away. But continue to hit them at twenty or thirty or fifty points along their column. Kill them. Burn their supplies. Harass them. Make their life one long, insufferable misery until they realize that this invasion was a bad idea. Then harass them back to the border until they're gone."

He paused. He knew there was little chance of winning this one. But he had to try. It was the best course open to them. His heart sank as Ragnak shook his head. Even Erak's lips were compressed into a thin, disapproving line.

"Abandon Hallasholm to them?" asked Ragnak.

Halt shrugged. "If necessary. You can always rebuild."

But now all the Skandians were shaking their heads and he knew what was behind it.

"Abandon everything in Hallasholm to them?" Ragnak persisted. This time Halt made no answer. He waited for the inevitable.

"Our booty-the results of hundreds of years of raiding-leave that to them?" Ragnak asked.

And that, Halt knew, was the crux of the matter. No Skandian would ever abandon the loot he had stored up over the years-the gold, the armor, the tapestries, the chandeliers, the thousand and one items that they hoarded and kept and gloated over in their storehouses. He caught Will's eye and shrugged slightly. He'd tried. Halt moved to the map once more and indicated the flatlands outside Hallasholm with his knife point.

"Alternatively," he said, "we stop them here, where the coastal plain contracts to its narrowest point."

The Skandians craned to look again. They nodded cautious approval, now that Halt had withdrawn the suggestion that they should abandon Hallasholm and its contents to the invaders.

"This way, they can't attack on a wide front. They'll be cramped. And we can conceal men in the trees here-and even in the outbuildings along the shore."

Lorak, older of the two jarls, frowned at the suggestion. "Won't that weaken our shield wall?"

Halt shook his head. "Not noticeably. We'll have more than enough men to form a solid defensive position here where the land is narrowest. Then, when the Temujai try their trick of falling back and bringing our men along with them, we'll appear to go along with it."

Erak moved forward to inspect the narrow neck of land that Halt was indicating.

"You mean we'll do as they want?" he asked. Halt pushed out his bottom lip and cocked his head to one side.

"We'll appear to," he admitted. "But once they stop withdrawing to counterattack, we'll bring our ambush forces out of hiding and hit them from behind. If we time it correctly, we could make life very unpleasant for them."

The Skandians stood, staring down at the map. Borsa, Lorak and Ulfak had blank looks as they tried to visualize the movement. Erak and Ragnak, Halt was glad to see, were slowly nodding as they understood the idea.

"Our best chance," he continued, "is to force them into the sort of engagement that suits your men best-close quarters, hand to hand, every man for himself. If we can catch them that way, your axmen will take a heavy toll on them. The Temujai rely on speed and movement for protection. They're only lightly armed and armored. If we had even a small force of archers, it could make an enormous difference," he added. "But I suppose we can't have everything." Halt knew that the bow wasn't a Skandian weapon. It was no use wishing for things that couldn't be. But in his mind's eye, he could see the devastation that an organized party of bowmen could cause. He shrugged, pushing the thought aside.

Erak looked up at the gray-cloaked Ranger. He's small, he thought, but by the gods, he's a warrior to reckon with.

"We have to depend on our men keeping their heads," he said. "Then we have to time it just right when we spring our trap-otherwise the men coming from the forest and the outbuildings will be exposed themselves. It's a risk."

Halt shrugged. "It's war," he replied. "The trick is to know which risks to take."

"And how do you know that?" Borsa asked him, sensing that the small, bearded foreigner had gained the trust and the acceptance of the Oberjarl and his War Council. Halt smiled wolfishly at him.

"You wait till it's over and see who's won," he said. "Then you know those were the right risks to take."