Through the Darkness

“Did you ever hear of a campaign that wasn’t supposed to be quick and clean and easy?” Fernao asked, and then answered his own question: “The trouble is, the whoresons on the other side keep coming up with ideas of their own.”

“Who ever heard of a Yaninan with any idea except running away?” Affonso asked. Fernao laughed. So did his comrade, but not for long. With a grimace, Affonso continued, “But there are more Algarvians down here than there used to be. And they do have other ideas.”

“Mostly nasty ones,” Fernao agreed. Thinking of the sorceries Mezentio’s men had started using in Unkerlant, he kicked at the grass and the mossy dirt. “Almost all of them nasty ones in this war.”

Behind its screen of scouts on camels and a few unicorns, behind its behemoths, the army slogged on toward a long, low rise. Somewhere on the other side of that rise, the Yaninans and Algarvians waited. It was somewhere not far away, too: Fernao exclaimed as dragons painted in red and white and green streaked out of the west, driving a handful of Kuusaman and Lagoan beasts before them.

Nor did the Algarvians content themselves with that. Their dragons threw themselves at those flying above the Lagoan army. Whenever the Algarvians did anything, they did it with all their might. Fernao watched dragons wheel and twist and flame in the sky--and watched some of them fall out of the sky, too, broken and burning.

Then a unicorn out ahead of the army toppled to the ground, pinning its rider beneath it. A great gout of steam rose from its body: it had been blazed by a heavy stick. Fernao’s gaze went to the top of the rise. Coming over it were behemoths that didn’t belong to the Lagoan army. Lagoan beasts tramped forward to meet them. Both sides began tossing eggs.

“They’ve got more behemoths than I thought they did,” Affonso said in worried tones.

“Aye.” Fernao was worried, too. “If they’ve been reinforced ...” His voice trailed off. If the Algarvians had brought more behemoths to the austral continent, they’d surely brought more men down here, too.

Footsoldiers swarmed over the ridge behind and between the enemy behemoths. Affonso cursed. “Yaninans haven’t come forward like that in all the days of the world,” he said bitterly.

“I won’t tell you you’re wrong, however much I wish I could,” Fernao replied. “King Swemmel ought to thank us. Every one of those whoresons we slay is one the Unkerlanters won’t have to worry about.”

“I’m more worried about the Algarvians who’re liable to slay us,” Affonso answered. Fernao didn’t see how he could fault his friend’s thinking there.

He peered nervously toward the south. If the Algarvians had brought in enough behemoths to confront the Lagoan army, had they brought in enough to outflank King Vitor’s men, too? But no cries of alarm rose there, and he saw no great shapes pounding across the plain to cut off the Lagoans. With more than a little relief, he turned his attention back to the battle ahead.

With more relief still, he saw that the Lagoan behemoths were holding their own against the Algarvian animals. There weren’t so many of the Algarvian behemoths as he’d thought at first frightened glance, even if there were plenty to have routed the Lagoan scouts. Indeed, the Lagoan behemoths were starting to push the Algarvians back.

“Vitor!” A great shout rose from the Lagoan ranks. “King Vitor and victory!” The soldiers surged forward. Fernao and Affonso went with them. The Algarvians began falling back faster now. Maybe they’d been running a monster bluff. Sometimes they paid a price for their arrogance.

“Every so often, this business is easier than you think it would be,” Fernao said to Affonso.

“Aye.” The second-rank mage nodded. “Remember how we were worried about the Yaninans the first time they tried to hit us? We didn’t know then they’d run every chance they got.”

“I’m not sorry they did.” Fernao slogged up the rise. The Lagoan foot-soldiers, most of them younger than he and Affonso, moved faster than the mages. They hurried to catch up with their behemoths, which were just reaching the crest of the rise and disappearing as they went down the other side. Panting a little, or more than a little, Fernao went on, “Nice of the Algarvians to do the same.”

“So it is,” Affonso agreed. He was breathing hard, too. “You wouldn’t expect it of them, the way you would of the Yaninans.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Fernao peered thoughtfully toward the top of the rise. “I wonder if they’ve got something in mind.”

Hardly had the words left his mouth before several behemoths came back over the top of the rise, heading east toward the Lagoan force. “What’s this?” Affonso said, skidding to a halt.

“Nothing good,” Fernao replied. A moment later, he exclaimed, too--in dismay. “Those are our animals. But where are the rest of them?”