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Al woke to find himself in an enormous bed in a gargantuan room. Light was streaming in a bay window, which took up most of one wall. Chartrand was sitting in a chair beside his bed with a broad smile on his face. “Ah, the sleeper awakes.”
“How long have I been out?”
“More than forty-eight hours if you don’t count your semi-conscious states when we tried to get some water into you.”
“Forty-eight hours!” Al rubbed his temples. Oh, my head aches! He sat up, only to fall back as dizziness overwhelmed him.
“Whoa, take it easy Al. Everything is under control. We have control of Seth.”
“What?”
“Everything worked out. The barracks were nearly empty and the citadel had only a minimal guard. In fact, Bigelow’s slave steward was the only one attentive enough to see what was going on, and he didn’t raise the alarm, but let us into the citadel through a postern gate. We have it all: the gates, the citadel, and all the store houses. Even the guards at the Low Town gate towers surrendered.”
“Have you freed the slaves?”
“Provisionally, the final decision has to be made by the new Lord of Seth.”
“The new Lord of Seth? Who would that be?”
Larsen laughed. “That would be his imperial majesty, Al Gleeson.”
“What?”
“Sorry, old chum, you have no choice—that is, unless you want to insult the whole rebel nation. Apparently, they have a long-established custom that if a war-leader rescues captives, they automatically owe allegiance to him for at least a year. If a war leader captures an enemy stronghold, he automatically becomes lord of that stronghold. So, it seems old chum, in your usual bumbling ways, not only are you Lord of Seth, but you have several thousand followers, many of whom are seasoned warriors.”
Al’s mind was reeling. This was too much to take in. Finally, he said, “Where’s Larsen? Is he well?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He’s negotiating with the Guild. We thought it would be best to reassure them that we’re not after them, especially since we know their lair so well. Larsen is offering to re-establish the old arrangement where they work for gold—it turns out Bigelow had a huge stash of gold that he used to trade with other fiefdoms and the Mutandi wizards. We can use that to pay for the services of the Guild to get this town running again. As a gesture of good will, we released all the Guild members from the dungeons, and those that had been enslaved. We offered to let them return, but they seemed to be covered by the same honor pledge as the rebels. Er, I hope we didn’t overstep our authority.”
“Overstep? No, of course not.”
Chartrand looked out the door and rose. “I want to introduce you to someone, Al”
He went to the door and brought in a man with long gray hair, a long face, and intelligent brown eyes. “This is Klengar, Bigelow’s slave steward who helped us secure the citadel, and has been of inestimable value since. For example, he negotiated the surrender of the Low Town gate towers.”
“Lord Gleeson, my pleasure and honor.” Klengar dropped to one knee and offered up his rod of office with both hands. “To you Lord, my rescuer, I offer my fealty, my loyalty, and my life.”
He obviously expected an answer. Al tried to think of a reasonable response. He could only think of Denethor’s response to Merry from one of his favorite books, and gave it his best approximation. “Klengar, steward of Seth, I accept your pledge of fealty. I will reward loyalty with honor, fealty with love, and treachery with judgment.” Klengar seemed satisfied.
Al slowly sat up. “Steward, please give me a brief report of what has been done.”
“Lord, we have great stores accumulated for the army. The stores are guarded by your men and my staff, that is, those I deem most trustworthy are rationing out the food and clothing as needed. Bigelow’s captured men are held weaponless in Low Town. I have begun assigning houses around Low Town to families as an added guard against escape. The deeds to these donated homes are being duly registered here.
“Most of the warriors have taken up residence in the barracks. Former slaves have been assigned shops, duly registered. We should soon be able to buy and sell goods. We plan to use the Guild gold currency, augmented by your treasury as money. Everything has to be paid for as the vice-lords Larsen and Chartrand have been instructing.” Here Klengar bowed again to Chartrand.
“I have kept all of my former staff, who were slaves under cursed Lord Bigelow. For room and board and a nominal wage, they were glad to stay on and run both this household and the day-to-day activities of the town.”
Al gave Klengar a long look. There is no hint of treachery or deception in those eyes. Al always told the truth and somehow that commitment seemed to make it possible to see when others were lying. “You and your staff have done well, Klengar. You seem to know that I value justice, fairness, compassion, and mercy. Let those be your guiding principles. Thank you.”
Klengar bowed and left. Al turned to Chartrand. “Bigelow could be wiping out the Hawks right now, and maybe our friends with them. I need to get up and mobilize the army.”
“You’re not ready to ride out. You need time to heal.”
“If I’m really their lord, I have to be there even if all I can do is sit in my saddle. Chartrand, I need you to work with me on this.”
Chartrand shook his head. “I will get your battle chiefs.”
An hour later the four battle chiefs met in Bigelow’s old bed chamber. Al insisted he sit in a chair for their visit. Ale was passed around as the battle chiefs, Klengar and a red headed man sat around Al in a semicircle.
After some preliminary pleasantries, Al’s tone became more earnest. “We have some tough decisions to make. I have asked Klengar, my steward, and Red, the chief of the Guild, to join us. Klengar knows more about Seth than any of us do. Red, on the other hand, is still deciding if he can trust us. I want him to hear our plans. I am hoping he will help us run Seth in such a way that Guild members and free men alike will benefit.” Red looked shocked at Al’s straightforward analysis of the situation.
Al looked around, the battle chiefs were attentive, but no one asked any questions. “Bigelow has emptied Seth to wipe out the Eagles and the Hawks. As far as I know the Eagles have been scattered and perhaps even destroyed. I don’t know if we are in time to save the Hawks, but we will try. I’m looking for suggestions on how to carry the fight to Bigelow.”
“If I be Bigelow,” said Ragnor, “I would use the switchback road to haul supplies down by wagon to the first terrace. I would set up a supply camp there. The wagons can’t continue down to the second terrace because there be trails but no roads. Bigelow likely has long lines of slave porters carrying supplies further down on the few trails between terraces. The fortified camp would be expecting attack from roving rebel bands on the second terrace, but not down the switchback.”
Al asked, “Won’t they see us coming down the switchback from below? We’ll be easy to destroy because our line will be so stretched out.”
“Yes, very true. We’ll have to sneak down the switchback in the dark of the night and launch our attack at first light. If we be lucky, the camp will be lightly defended because all opposition on the first terrace will already have been destroyed, and they be feeling relatively safe.”
“Any comments?” asked Al.
“If we’re moving on foot to attack,” added Chartrand, “why not use all three routes from the three eastern gates? That way we could attack from three different directions. Even if the force down the switchback is discovered and stymied, we could still mount a credible attack.”
“There’s another reason to use the three-prong attack,” continued Larsen. “We don’t know the timing of the shipments to the camp. In the intervening days, before we can launch our attacks, there will have been several missed shipments and the camp ought to be suspicious. It may be that they’ve already sent a scout up to the gate and he’s figured out that his boys are no longer on watch. They may be waiting for us. Or even worse, Bigelow may have abandoned his attack on the Hawks and may even now be marching on Seth. It would be just too bad if we sent our whole army down the switchback only to have Bigelow come up one of the other tracks and recapture Seth behind us. We need a force on all three approaches.”
The discussion went on for another hour, but the final plan involved a main force down the switchback and two forces down the other two trails with an attack at dawn if they were not discovered. If they were discovered—well, everyone would have to use their best judgment.
The sky was overcast, and a gentle drizzle began. After an afternoon of frenzied preparation, the larger force of five hundred men under Ragnor and Raynor set out down the switchback as darkness fell. The continuous rain made the switchback treacherous. Al rode a horse down, well back from the vanguard. The horse’s hooves were wrapped in soft boots to aid in footing and to keep the horse as quiet as possible. The other two forces of about two hundred men each started down the trails from the other two gates at the same time.
Ragnor had selected his people well. Al heard the occasional clink of metal on stone, but no one talked. They made it to the designated way point.
The bulk of the force on the switchback settled down for a miserable night on a shelf about seventy meters from the terrace. This shelf was broad enough that the bulk of the force would be invisible from the terrace below. Others found crevices and small shelves along the route, or they crowded on the road itself away from the edge to remain out of sight. There was no talking. Scouts crept as close to the first terrace as possible in order to observe the camp, and particularly the sentries.
Although Al was soaked to his skin, he was feeling better. He did not sleep, but had a quiet consultation with scouts that had crept back up from the terrace to report. There was a ditch and a palisade but only Halfmen patrolled the camp. There were no true sentries. At dawn his force would attack. He hoped the other two forces had been able to position themselves such that they would also be able to attack from the flanks.
Finally, it looked to be about half an hour before earliest light. Everything was wet and soggy. The main force crept down the road to the terrace. Al expected the alarm to be given at any moment. He heard a clink of metal on stone, and a dislodged rock bounce down the cliff, followed by a loud thud and grunt as the rock careened into a soldier on the lower switchback.
It was too much to hope that five hundred men could be absolutely quiet as they crept into position.
Al heard what he had dreaded, the eerie howl of a Halfman giving the warning battle cry. Dragging himself to the edge of the ledge, he peered over to see what Ragnor and Raynor would do.
Launch the attack, blast you! Launch the attack now! Do I have to send down an order?
It was a little lighter now. Al could see the men moving in force across the terrace silently. The fighting had begun, but his force was not using any battle cries.
Al felt guilty about misjudging his commanders. Ragnor and Raynor were handling this better than he would have. Fighting in silence was a brilliant idea. Anything to slow the response for a few seconds would get more and more of his men onto the terrace and threaten a larger section of the palisade, stretching the defenders.
Al pulled out his binoculars. Now he could see Chartrand’s force from the northwest begin to move on the camp. They were here! There was nothing on the other side. Where was Larsen?
Now the tents and huts in the middle of the camp began to empty of troops, mainly men. They rushed to attack Chartrand’s forces, which were closest. Chartrand’s men were thrown back, but the main force was rapidly advancing with little opposition.
Finally, he saw Larsen’s men coming in almost unopposed from the southeast.
Suddenly, as if on signal, the enemy broke contact with Chartrand and ran for the woods on the far side of the camp, abandoning everything. The Halfmen did the same. The commanders sent about half their force to pursue the enemy, while the rest secured the camp, manning the crude palisade and gates.
An hour later, Al sat wearily in one of the tents, which had been cleared to serve as his command headquarters. They had captured about one third of the men in the camp. The rest were being hunted in the woods by small parties of warriors.
Al rubbed his wound. When the reports were finished, Al said, “We need to locate the Hawk camp and Bigelow’s army as soon as possible. If we’re too late, our effort will be in vain. They will likely be on either the third or the fourth terrace, but we can’t count on that. Have two scout groups walk along the edge of this terrace, one heading right, and the other heading left.
“I want two more scout groups on the edge of the second terrace looking down on the third. Finally, scout groups five and six go up and down to the edge of the third terrace, looking down on the fourth. Bigelow’s army can’t hide, but we need to find them as quickly as possible, if we don’t find anything on the upper levels.
“Any questions? No? The rest of us need to be ready to move as soon as the scouting reports comes back.”