In the midafternoon, Stepan gestured at the map spread on the study table. “Mynntar has scouted the back roads that circle the swamp where the road used to be. He is camped here on this hilltop. The one to the south is higher, but he would have to backtrack to reach the roads. As soon as the ground dries enough to support his horse, he will take this road past these orchards and either come back to the main road or continue on this lane and strike here. With the warm wind from the south west, that could be soon. Already, the fields here are drying.”
Secca studied the map. “If we repair the road, and then follow this…we would have the high ground.”
“If…” Stepan said. “There is brush on the hillside. It would prevent a charge…” He cocked his head. “But low brush is no barrier to sorcery, is it?”
“No.” Secca hoped not.
“Then they would have to circle…if the sorcery did not complete the task.” Stepan looked to Secca.
Wilten nodded almost imperceptibly.
“How long before he can move?” asked Secca.
“The ground is drying, but it won’t be firm enough for two or three days,” offered the graying arms commander.
“What about the main road?”
“Two days.”
“Then we should repair the swamp bridge on the morning after next, and take the hill overlooking his force and strike from behind.” Secca studied the map once more. “Is not this ridge harder ground?”
“So hard that it will not grow trees. Some say it was once a hold, generations into the past.”
“The wind has been blowing out of the southwest, instead of from the east. So we should get drier and warmer air, and on that ridge the wind will be at our backs, or mostly so.”
“So it will carry your spells?” asked Wilten.
Secca nodded.
“What if there is more rain?” questioned the overcaptain.
“Then we wait. He won’t be able to move either,” Secca pointed out. She just hoped she was right. Then, she was hoping far more than was wise.