A Picture of the Heart

Laine stood beside Commander Joran atop the southern wall, close to the stairs, and scanned from west to east, trying to decide if their numbers looked as badly diminished as his thoughts tried to convince him. Troops were missing; that much was certain, but just how many, he wasn’t sure, and that was—at least in part—what Commander Joran had intended. Joran had separated the troops into groups of six and spaced them ten feet apart along the wall and street. As he’d explained, the spacing would make it much harder for random arrows to strike anyone, and the spacing should help lessen the appearance of diminished numbers.

In theory, Laine supposed the plan would work, but in the end, it was nothing more than a parlor trick, and he didn’t care much for not knowing the exact numbers. Still, the Commander hadn't chosen to reveal how many troops were missing, which was his prerogative, but something about it bothered Laine. Perhaps it was nothing more than his sudden promotion making him feel more important than he should, or, possibly, he was once again attributing Commander Sikes’ traits to Joran, which wasn't fair. Joran wasn’t a tyrant--neither was Sikes, if Laine was honest--although sometimes it had felt that way. It wasn't fair to judge Joran because of Laine's experience in the Vale, and yet, he found himself constantly slipping back into that mindset.

Shaking away the thoughts, he continued his scan, and that’s when he spotted the six defenders carrying crates who’d just appeared under the archway at the end of South Outer Court.

Finally, it seemed as though they would get some good news.

“Commander,” Laine said, pointing toward the men carrying wooden crates.

Joran smiled and started down the stairs, motioning for Laine to follow.

Looks like the spacing has more than two benefits, Laine thought as they made it from the wall to South Outer Court in record time. The troop spacing provided the added benefit of maneuverability. Had Joran spaced out the troops before Nichols’ stunt, perhaps it would have stopped him or at least hindered his plan to create division.

“Leave them here and return to your post.”

“How many arrows are we looking at?” Laine asked.

“About five hundred.”

“That’s it? There must have been forty crafters working in the War Chamber. Right?”

“Nearly. Thirty-seven craft arrows and two supervise, but only Master Yahatamal imbues them. That’s what takes so long. Call your archers. Let’s give them the good and bad news.”

Laine nodded and pulled a golden whistle from under his tunic. The shrill sound pierced the night and his archer’s rallied to him.

“Where did you find that?” Joran asked.

“It’s a little something I picked up while leading a group of archers in the Vale. It comes in handy since it’s easy to get split up in the canyons and caves.”

“It’s nice. Probably the only valuable thing to ever come out of the Vale.”

With Joran’s mention of the Vale, Laine realized his mistake. He never should have shown Joran the whistle or mentioned the Vale. The Commander was already too curious about his time there. The last thing he needed was to feed him information. He couldn’t afford to let Joran know about her, not yet, at least; perhaps he’d tell the story one day, but not today and certainly not while facing down an enemy army.

“Let me guess,” an archer said. “The bad news is also right here?”

“You guessed it.”

“That simply means you’ll have to be selective using the crafted arrows versus your normal ones,” Laine chipped in before any of his men made another comment. Under normal circumstances, Joran didn’t have a short-fuse, but these were anything but ordinary circumstances. Then again, maybe his time with Commander Sykes was once again determining how he thought Joran would respond.

“The King had the foresight to start the Crafters working three weeks ago,” Joran said. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have nearly as many to work with. Regardless, it doesn’t matter now. The war is upon us, and this is what we have. As Captain Laine said, we must be selective. We will only use these arrows against the second wave.”

“What's so special about them?” another archer chipped in.

“He’s getting to that,” Laine said impatiently.

“It’s alright, Captain. I encourage questions,” Joran said to Laine before answering the question. “It’ll take the defenders longer to deal with the second wave because their hides are tougher, thus giving the Weurgen more opportunities to overwhelm our defenses. When the second wave attacks, archers have the opportunity to change the course of this battle.”

“How can we tell the difference between the two groups?” another man asked.

“Good question,” Joran said. “The Weurgen from the second wave will be noticeably larger. When I or Captain Laine see them advancing, we will alert you. Captain, please show them.”

“Yes, sir,” Laine said, holding up a pottery jar with a wax seal on top and a rope looped through it. “When Commander Joran is ready, he’ll launch this over the enemy camp, and I’ll ignite it with a flaming arrow. That’s your signal to use the imbued arrows. Any questions?” Laine asked.