The Fireseed Wars

III

Captain Jephros, whose upper lip was clean-shaven with a full brown beard covering the rest of his face, rode up from the plains with a dust-covered scout. Captain-General Hestophes raised his arm to signal the advance party to halt. There were about twenty men in the advance party, including guards and Captain-General Errock. Errock had been giving the Hostigi background on the northern plains nomads and which ones were allied with Grefftscharr, Ragnar, Lyros and Dorg.

King Kalvan had sent them from Thagnor to rescue the buffalo expedition; the King was counting on this meat to get his subjects through the winter. Hestophes meant to fulfill his King's command if he had to kill every nomad between Grefftscharr and Dorg.

The scout, dressed in typical nomad leathers, drew up and had to pause to catch his breath while his horse made a noise like a bellows. It was lathered and quivering with exhaustion despite the cold.

"Get this man a remount," Hestophes ordered. Most of the scouts were Rathoni locals that had allied themselves with King Chartiphon after the conquest of Hos-Rathon. He had sent some of them along with Rylla. Kalvan had taken the best of the lot and mustered them into the Royal Army. As a recruitment bonus, he had given them each fifty pieces of silver and a small landholding outside Thagnor City.

"Sir, we ran into an ambush up ahead about three and a half marches." The scout stopped to take a couple of deep breaths. Like many of the tribesmen who lived along the Trygath/Sea of Grass border, he knew how to speak both Zarthani and Urgothi fluently.

"Do the nomads know we're coming?"

"No, it's a trap they've set for Prince Phrames and the wagon train, sir. One large band of nomads is chasing Phrames, while another band lies in wait. There's a stream up ahead, the locals call it the Varthon Creek, and they've set an ambush on the other side of the ford at the top of a small cliff. It appears their strategy is to lie in wait until Phrames and his men try to forge across the creek. Then strike from both sides of the stream while they're crossing."

"How large is the creek?" Hestophes asked.

"At the ford, it is about three hundred paces wide, sir."The scout paused to place a hand on his hip. "The water is this high at the deepest spot."

Just deep enough to give men on horseback a disadvantage if attacked during its passage, Hestophes decided. "Will the horses be able to cross the ford without running into a marsh or any other obstacle?"

"We crossed it ourselves earlier without any trouble," the scout said. "The water is low and it should be solid enough for the wagons, as well."

"How many tribesmen did you see?" Errock asked.

"On this side of the Varthon, about seven to ten thousand is our guess, sir. The band chasing Phrames and the wagon train is even larger. There were men from more clans and tribes than I've seen in many winters. A couple of our scouts acted as if they were laggards and made their way among the ambushers. There's a lot of comings and goings with supplies and reinforcements constantly arriving. They had no trouble scouting them out. Their Warlord is Arthap, an ally of King Theovacar's whose clan roams the no-man's land between Grefftscharr and Dorg.

"Arthap has promised the tribesmen all the spoils they can carry and ten pieces of silver for every Hostigi scalp. He's also promised them enough buffalo for a moon-quarter-long victory feast! There's a much larger force behind Phrames that's supposed to drive them into their arms. Arthap's clansmen have been waiting there for almost a moon quarter and patience is running low, with some of the lesser tribes already leaving in clumps of tens and twenty."

Hestophes stroked his beard. "How are they getting their victuals? This place looks played-out for hunting."

"It is, Captain-General. They've been getting large wagons of dried-fish, beef and bread from Grefftscharr. Some of the wagon train guards are even wearing Grefftscharrer uniforms."

"There it is, General Hestophes," Errock said, nodding. "The proof we've been looking for. The Great King will need to know this."

"Right. I'll send a scout back to Thagnor before we engage the enemy."

Hestophes turned to the Rathoni scout. "How many observers do they have?"

"We counted less than twenty watchmen and scouts. Give me twenty more men and we will send them all to Wind."

"Good. First we need to coordinate this attack with Phrames. Can you reach him before nightfall?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. We encountered one of the Prince's scouts. His camp is about ten marches from the stream. He knows about the ambush and has been awaiting our arrival."

One of Hestophes' bodyguards rode up, trailing a remount. "Here's a fresh horse. Take as many men as you need and tell Prince Phrames to have his men prepare to ford the stream at sun's height. We'll meet him on the other side."

"Yes, sir."