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Half a Loaf

Rash to count fortune your friend
At a stranger's door.

Something was wrong. By the river downhill from the tent, a rising clamor, coming closer. Voice of the guard outside:

"Council, soldier. His Majesty . . ."

"Send him in."

The soldier was out of armor, bare to the waist, half a dozen waterbags slung over his shoulder. He saw the Emperor, saluted.

"Majesty, it's the river. It's dry."

The man looked down at himself, flushed.

"Pardon, Majesty. I thought . . ."

"Pardoned. You were right. The river has stopped flowing completely?"

"Yes, Majesty. There's still water in some of the pools."

The Emperor looked around, thought a moment.

"Twelfth, you aren't doing anything just now. The Karls are damming the river somewhere above Eston. Your job is to find the dam, take it, break it.

"It could be a trick, with an ambush somewhere up slope. Watch for it. Harald's a tricky bastard.

"Gerd, you're in charge of supplies—as of now, that includes water in pools in the riverbed. Fill every barrel we have, guard what's left, don't let some idiot wash in it. All up and down the valley, till you get to where the next river comes in.

"There are big storage tanks in the castle. Empty our barrels into them, send the wagons west, refill at that stream that comes down from the hills, bring the barrels back full. The siege may last a while yet, we could get thirsty."

The Emperor spent the next afternoon inspecting the siege, accompanied by the senior of the three legion commanders conducting it. Eston was ringed by earthworks, behind them archers. Farther back, siege engines, slowly pounding at the city wall.

"I suppose mining is hopeless?"

The commander shook his head.

"Like the castle—the whole thing is built on rock. You can see how the river bent around it. We'll use archers and engines to clear the walls, breach if we're lucky, rams, mostly for the gate, siege towers. The river's shallow—if it fills up again, men on that side can wade it when we go in. They'll still need ladders to get up to the wall—you can see it's almost a cliff—then over it. It isn't going to be easy. Wish I knew how many soldiers were inside."

"Not as many as we thought."

"Your Majesty has someone . . . ?"

The Emperor shook his head, started back to his tent, the commander beside him.

"The garrison of the castle was only five, six hundred—and the King wasn't there. I'm guessing it's the same story here. The last few days we were coming south the army ahead of us was getting smaller, not bigger. It was down to a thousand or so by the time we turned east. Five hundred south of us in the open, where we could count them, five hundred up the valley ahead of us where we couldn't.

"We figured that was the whole army, most of it retreating behind walls. The real army was assembling out on the plains with Harald to lead it. I hope Justin is being careful."

The Emperor stopped. The commander had turned his head, was listening to something. A moment later he heard it too—a dull roar from the direction of the river. It faded. For a moment he thought he could he could hear the noise of running water, then it was drowned out by distant voices.

"Twelfth did it. "

An officer was hurrying up from the river; the Emperor sat down on his chair in the tent, gestured to one of the servants, looked up as the man came into the tent.

"The river's back. You don't look happy."

"No, Majesty."

"Any idiots camped in the riverbed got washed away, we're better off without them."

"Yes, Majesty."

"Don't just stand there, tell me what's wrong."

"Bodies, Majesty. A lot of bodies. Twelfth legion."

"What killed them?" Even as he spoke the Emperor was pushing himself out of his chair, reaching for his stick; the slope down to the river could be tricky.

"I don't know, Majesty."

When he got to the river he saw the legionary physician leaning over one of the bodies that had been pulled from the water. The Emperor waited impatiently until he had finished.

"What happened?"

"Not a battle. Battering, but the river could have done it. They drowned. The crest was man high down here—I saw it. Worse farther up."

It was past dark when one of the survivors reached camp.

"Half the legion, Majesty."

"Sit down before you fall down—someone get him a chair. What happened?"

"Nine, ten miles up river from the city. Narrow valley, wall across the choke point, archers on the wall, canyon spread out a bit lower down, not too steep. Commander put two hundred men on each side up above to make sure nobody ambushed us. I was on the right. The rest of the legion went up the valley to take the wall, tight formation, shields up."

"The wall was the dam and they broke it."

The man nodded.

"Wave of water twice my height. We saved some, washed up one side or the other."

"How many left alive?"

"Four hundred of us out of it, Majesty. Junio thinks maybe fifty more, one side or the other."

"Junio is the surviving captain?"

"Senior captain left, Majesty. He sent me to tell you what happened. We took the dam, what's left of it, camped next to it, dug in. He wants orders."

"Find a bed somewhere, get a good night's sleep. I'll send someone in the morning; you can show him the way."

The Emperor looked around the tent. One of the officers spoke up.

"Majesty, the last word from Justin got here five days back, left him six."

"Have you sent to ask how he's doing?"

"Three days ago, Majesty. They haven't come back."

The Emperor closed his eyes, listened to the silence, opened them. Three days, and only getting worried now. Young men, mostly. If Artos . . . That choice was made; too late to change it. Loyal to his prince—to the boy's credit. For a moment he could almost see Talinn sitting in his place in Council, his lord's right hand, calm, quiet, solid as rock. Dead. Too many years. It was his war now. He pulled his mind back.

"Fifth is camped farthest down the valley. Move the whole legion west. Assume the Karls have the camp. If we're wrong, the boys get some exercise. If right, have them build earthworks across the valley mouth, start siege operations against the camp, send word back for help. Claudio, you brought the bad news, you deal with it. As soon as you know, send word.

"Karol. You have better forest scouts than theirs—use them. Your boys go west on both sides of the valley. Have them send back word about what's happening on the plain."

Tent empty, he could stretch out on the cot, close his eyes, think. Justin was gone—he knew it in his bones. If all else failed he could cut his losses, abandon the siege, force the valley mouth, take the army home—with the Queen of Kaerlia in his train and the royal castle burning behind him. Nothing in the Kingdom, nothing in the Vales, could hold a field fortification against eight legions.

Two days later, the Emperor called his commanders to council.

"We're lifting the siege, going home."

He spoke into the silence.

"Word came back from the encampment west—most of you have heard it by now. Fifth legion got there. The Karls pulled out when they saw us coming—left four hundred of our wounded behind.

"Justin's alive. He took an arrow in the throat and isn't talking yet, so he used a stylus and tablet. Harald has the host of the Vales, half the Order, two or three thousand nomads, five thousand Karl heavies. They won two battles—seven days ago, the cavalry, next day, the legions.

"Most of you saw the river—dry again. I figure the Karls had another dam farther upstream, closed it last night. There's a smaller river, Karls call it Red Rock, that joins this one five miles west of here. We just got word—it's dry too. The big river out in the plain runs north to the Borderflood. It's time to follow it. Empty the castle, add what supplies are left to ours, burn it, start west in the morning."

"Majesty?"

"Claudio?"

"Eston river runs east and north, no telling how far. The small one comes down from the hills north of us. All we've seen there are a few archers, scouts. Why not push up Red Rock valley, stay out of the river bed this time, break the dam?"

The Emperor thought a moment before he answered.

"Someone in those hills has been trying to annoy us—nothing big, ambushes, throwing rocks down at the camp. Pin pricks. I've been wondering why.

"Harald's had six days since the last battle. Cats are used to mountains, Karls know the paths—these are their hills.

"Staying is too big a risk. We're low on food and water, no cavalry left to cover our supply lines, and Harald is out there somewhere with ten thousand men. He hasn't run out of tricks in twenty years.

"Time to go home."

 

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