Chasing the Prophecy Page 63

Galloran never wore his blindfold anymore except in private meetings. He had explained that a host of their size could go nowhere in secret. Some of the men had taken to brandishing their weapons at Galloran and shaking their fists when he rode past. At first Rachel had found the display disrespectful, until she realized they were sending a message to Felrook through his eyes. Galloran would sometimes scowl at the rowdy taunts to encourage them. He trusted the officers to maintain discipline and keep the joke from getting out of hand.

Every night Rachel slept in a tent on a comfortable cot. Tark and Ferrin shared the space behind a divider. Sometimes in the night Rachel would worry about lurkers intruding. She never took off the charms that shielded her mind. At times, in the dark, she clung to her necklace like a lifeline.

Galloran had a large tent that was used for meetings. Whenever a discussion was in progress, twelve burly guards surrounded the tent, three on each side. Rachel was not usually included in the discussions, but one evening after supper Rachel, Ferrin, and Tark were summoned to the pavilion. Galloran, blindfolded, awaited them with Io at his side. Bread and cheese covered a table topped by a large map.

“Good evening,” Galloran said. “I apologize that my time has been spread thin lately. Much of my day is occupied with eagle messages and scouting reports. I wanted to bring you up-to-date on our progress and get your reactions to the current state of our campaign. I want you all to understand our situation, and would be interested to hear your evaluations.”

“Happy to serve,” Ferrin said.

“We are currently experiencing far less resistance than I had expected,” Galloran said. “The country before us is not being burned or plundered to starve us. Our host is not being harassed. Our enemies have not bothered to destroy bridges or take any action to slow us. What does this tell you?”

“That we’re walking into a trap,” Ferrin said. “We’re going exactly where the emperor desires.”

“If that is the case,” Galloran said, “I would still expect some token effort to impede us, if for no other reason than to make his approval of our movements less obvious.”

“Such token resistance would suggest he views us as a threat,” Ferrin replied. “Maldor is in no hurry to show us any such respect. He does not want to burn crops that his subjects are otherwise sure to harvest after we are corpses. He does not want the trouble of rebuilding bridges. He has elected to belittle us with a seeming lack of attention. He is telling your soldiers that he views them as harmless. He is inviting them to march to their deaths, offering no small victories along the way.”

From behind her veil, Rachel watched Ferrin, impressed. He certainly had a sharp mind for strategy.

“I’m afraid that I agree with your assessment,” Galloran said. “Maldor knows the prophecy. He knows where we are going. He knows we mean to besiege Felrook. And he is inviting us to try.”

Ferrin nodded. “Why seek to slow us when he knows we are marching to the battlefield where he holds the greatest advantage? Felrook is ringed with mountains. There are only three good ways to reach it. The western pass, which lies east of Harthenham. The northwestern pass, which is the narrowest. And the eastern plain, where the mountains fail. No doubt the drinlings will enter by the eastern route.”

“Correct,” Galloran said. “The Amar Kabal will join us at the western pass. The northwestern way is closer to the Seven Vales, but there is no use in losing troops trying to take two passes.”

“We must keep vigilant,” Ferrin said. “Maldor might be trying to lull us into complacency. Just when we think he is giving us easy access to Felrook, he might hit us hard.”

“We’re braced for a big ambush,” Galloran said. “Our scouts and spies are working hard. Yet we have found nothing.”

“Then we will probably face our first major challenge at the western pass,” Ferrin said. “The walls have been built high and strong. Without the gatecrashers I doubt whether our forces could get through. Even with large orantium spheres the cost will be dear. We will pay in blood.”

Rachel squirmed at the thought. Sometimes she was grateful for the veil to help hide her reactions.

“Or if Maldor holds to his current strategy,” Galloran said, “he might opt to offer small resistance at the pass.”

“Trap us in the valley with him,” Ferrin said. “If he had a host ready to come from the east, we would be in trouble. The war would be over. Is Kadara still besieged?”

“His armies in the east remain in place at present,” Galloran said. “I’m still in contact by eagle with Kadara, Inkala, Highport, and the drinlings. If he summons his armies home, we’ll have advance warning.”

Ferrin nodded. “The emperor might be quietly mustering a sufficient host to deal with us. He could draw from his occupying forces all over Lyrian. The troops we are not facing now might have been withdrawn to hammer us all together.”

Galloran nodded. “After winning our way through the western pass, we need to leave sufficient men to hold it. That pass will be our only retreat if an army floods in from the east.”

“He may not even need to retake the pass,” Ferrin speculated. “What if he places a large enough army on the far side? Without the walls and the towers in his possession, he could still close the way.”

“He could very realistically do just that,” Galloran said. “We’d be caught between two armies.”

Rachel was impressed by how casually they could discus scenarios that could lead to their destruction. Hopefully, anticipating the possibilities would help them prevent the disaster from striking.

“If he can spare the soldiers,” Ferrin said, “the emperor might summon forces from Meridon. How goes the revolt there?”

“The uprising amounted to less than we had expected,” Galloran said. “A few interceptors were stolen. A few others burned. Most of the rebels fell. Vernon and Trivett perished. We will see no troops from the endeavor. In the larger scheme of things, the insurrection was a mere irritation.”

Ferrin folded his arms. “Maldor’s strategy is sound. We cannot take Felrook. No fortress in Lyrian enjoys more advantageous geography. As you know, it sits atop a mount in the center of Lake Fellion. If we try to construct a fleet of ferries, Maldor has ample armaments to sink them before they get close. And there is only one way up the cliffs to the castle gate. The path can be destroyed if needed. If left intact, the path allows very limited access. We cannot crash gates that we cannot reach. And Felrook is extremely well provisioned. Maldor could last for years against a siege.” Ferrin paused, thinking.

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