The Phoenix Guards Read online

  Chapter the Twenty-third

  In Which the Art

  Of the Ambuscade is Discussed

  And Examples Provided

  THE FIRST TO ARRIVE WAS Pel. He raised his eyebrows at Aerich, who shook his head slightly to indicate that the moment for speech had not yet arrived. Uttrik followed after a moment, then Tazendra and Mica. “Well?” said Tazendra.

  “This way,” said Khaavren, assuming command of the proceedings as if born to lead. He pointed up the road in the direction they were to proceed the next day, toward a place where a thick pile of stone had been built up, as if to prevent the slope of the mountain from covering the road with rocks and mud.

  “Is there, then, something to see this way?” said Tazendra.

  “No,” said Khaavren, “but there is something to talk about.”

  “But then, why can’t we talk in the inn, where, I must tell you, I was most comfortably stationed?”

  “Because, my friend, it would be too easy for us to be overheard there.”

  “It is remarkable,” said Aerich, “how well sound carries in these mountains.”

  “Well, then,” persisted Tazendra, who, notwithstanding the extreme justice of Khaavren’s remarks, was still annoyed at having to leave the inn, “do you pretend sound will carry less well here, along this road, than in the inn?”

  “If you would be so good as to send Mica around to keep an eye and an ear open for observers, I should think we may be able to safely communicate some matters of importance.”

  “I will do so then,” said Tazendra, and indicated to Mica that he should be about his task. The worthy Teckla nodded in a businesslike way and, still holding his bar-stool, began scouring the area.

  After a moment, Pel said in a very quiet voice, “Come, what have you to tell us?”

  “We are most anxious to hear,” said Uttrik.

  “I will tell you then,” said Khaavren.

  “What is it?” said Pel.

  “Just this,” said Khaavren. “Aerich and I were absent when the cake was eaten.”

  “Well,” said Tazendra. “We knew this. In fact, I even remarked upon it, did I not, Sir Uttrik?”

  “You did,” said the Dragonlord.

  Khaavren continued, “We took a walk behind the inn, where there is a stone path about several small clear-water pools, which it would do you good to look into, should you wish to reflect upon the infinite.”

  “Oh,” said Tazendra, “I am done with reflecting.”

  “Well, but, we were not.”

  “And what did this reflection lead to?”

  “Oh, that is unimportant. What is important, was what we heard while we were reflecting.”

  “Oh, you heard something?”

  “That is to say, overheard.”

  “And what is it that you overheard?” asked Pel mildly.

  Khaavren quickly described the conversation, as nearly word for word as he could, which was very nearly indeed, for he had a large head, and, as is well known, a large head gives greater capacity for memory. As he was finishing, Mica appeared and bowed to the company, “Gentlemen,” he said, “I have made three circuits of the area, at widening intervals. At one time I thought I heard a listener, but a closer examination proved it to be a norska, who seemed as anxious about my intentions as I was about hers.”

  “Very well, Mica. You may remain here,” said Tazendra.

  “But then,” said Uttrik, “where is this ambuscade to take place?”

  “Ambuscade?” said Mica.

  “Hush,” said Tazendra.

  “Along this very road, if I understood correctly,” said Khaavren.

  “That was my understanding, as well,” said Aerich. “Perhaps half a league further along.”

  “What then ought we to do?” said Pel.

  “Well, I,” said Tazendra, “think we should wait above the point of the ambuscade until we find these brigands, and then carry off our own ambuscade.”

  “Shame,” said Aerich. “A surprise attack?”

  “Well,” said Khaavren, “I am not far from agreeing with Tazendra. Consider that we are five against thirty, and that, furthermore, they intended to attack us in exactly that manner.”

  “And yet—” said Aerich.

  “My dear friend,” said Pel, “consider that we are dealing with brigands, not gentlemen.”

  “That is true,” said Aerich. “Nevertheless—”

  “And consider further that, if we do not, we must either admit that we have failed in our mission, which would suit my temperament but poorly, or else walk into an ambuscade, which would have results at least equally unsatisfactory, since I declare to you that I prize my skin nearly as highly as I prize success.”

  “Well, we could go behind them, and proceed on to the castle.”

  “And leave an enemy behind us?” said Uttrik.

  Aerich sighed. “Very well, then. Have you a plan of battle?”

  “I have one,” said Uttrik.

  “Tell it,” said the others.

  “Here it is, then. We must leave the inn as planned in the morning, only we must take care to depart in a very slow manner.”

  “For what reason?” said Tazendra.

  “I will tell you. There is no doubt that, when we set off, there will be someone to watch us, and to inform the ambuscade that we will reach it soon. It will be good if they are told that we are not moving in a great hurry.”

  “And why is that, my lord?” asked Pel with the greatest courtesy.

  “Because then, you perceive, it will not be deemed suspicious if we take a great deal of time of get there.”

  “Well,” said Tazendra, “if we are moving slowly, then it is only natural that we will not get there as soon as if we trotted our horses.”

  “Exactly,” said Uttrik.

  “That is well thought out,” said Khaavren.

  “But it would seem,” said Tazendra, “that we must nevertheless reach the ambuscade, and if we do so slower—”

  “Tazendra,” said Aerich gravely, “does not comprehend.”

  “Well, that is true,” said Tazendra.

  “We intend,” said Pel, “to circle behind the ambuscade. Using Uttrik’s plan, with which I am in full agreement”—here he bowed to the Dragonlord, who returned the courtesy—“we will not alert them needlessly.”

  “Shall we divide our forces?” said Khaavren.

  “Well, Tazendra, have you had the chance to charge the flash-stone you used so effectually before?”

  “No, I have not had the opportunity.”

  “In that case—”

  “Excuse me,” said Pel, “but you might go on to ask if any of the rest of us have such devices.”

  “What? More of them?”

  “Well, if one is the friend of a sorcerer”—here he bowed to Tazendra—“then it is practically the same as if one could prepare the rocks by one’s self.”

  “So, then, how many of these famous devices are there?”

  “Three, my lord,” said Pel. “And mine is a very heavy load indeed, such that I might knock four of the enemy off their horses.”

  “Well, that one, and two others?”

  “It is as I’ve said, my lord.”

  “Then do you and Tazendra take the portion of the road above them, and Khaavren, Aerich, and I will secure the road below them.”

  “And the signal?” said Tazendra.

  “You, Pel, when you judge the time is right, will simply discharge your flash-stone at the largest group of them, whereupon we will all attack.”

  “Agreed,” said Pel.

  “And mind, we will be attacking through the woods, and using flash-stones, wherefore, if we make sufficient noise, they may believe there are more of us, and break off the engagement.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Khaavren, frowning, “there are, to be sure, thirty of them.”

  “Well, yes,” said Uttrik. “And?”

  “I still wonder how five of us can defeat thirty of the enemy.”


  “Well, perhaps we will not defeat them,” said Uttrik.

  “But it will be a good battle,” said Tazendra.

  “Of that, there can be little doubt,” said Pel, who smiled grimly and rested his hand upon his sword. With this they returned to the inn, for the hour had grown late as they spoke.

  The Empress Undauntra I, shortly before the end of the War of the Wine Cups, that is, on the day of the battle that won for her the Orb, made the following observation as she inspected the army: “I can always tell who has never seen battle before.”

  A certain subaltern, in the letters from which we know the story, overheard, and asked if it was because they seemed nervous. “No,” she snapped, “anyone in his right mind is nervous before a battle.”

  “Well then, is it that they are more eager than those of more experience?”

  “In my army, everyone is eager for battle.”

  “Then tell me, my lady, how you can tell?”

  “Because they look more tired than the rest.”

  No matter how many duels one has fought, or how many skirmishes of the type that arrive unexpectedly, there is still, on the eve of one’s first battle, a feeling unlike any other. To rest one’s head upon the pillow saying to one’s self, “This may be last time I sleep in this life,” or to wonder, each time one’s eyes begin to close, “Will I still be alive and whole at this time to-morrow?” is enough to drive any notion of sleep far into the nether reaches of possibility.

  It is to Khaavren’s credit that on this, the night before his first real battle, he managed at last to fall asleep some four hours before the time the host had agreed to wake them with hot, sweet klava laden with honey and goat’s milk.

  He awoke then, if not fully refreshed, at least, we say to his credit, eager enough to make up for the deficiency, which is to say, fully alert, and, though nervous, also cool-headed and ready for battle.

  It was precisely half past the hour of eight in the morning when Khaavren reached the top of the stairs, and encountered Tazendra and Mica. The latter had a look of some worry upon his face, while the former’s eyes fairly gleamed as only a Dzurlord’s will when about enter a battle in which she is outnumbered. At the bottom of the stairs they met Aerich, who was sitting calmly at a table staring out the window. Uttrik was outside seeing to the horses, and Pel came down the stairs only a moment later. They settled up with the host and, on the advice of Uttrik, the most seasoned campaigner among them, took extra care to see to their saddles and gear, and made certain that their flash-stones were near at hand, and that their blades were loose and ready.

  “Well then, come, gentlemen,” said Uttrik.

  “But slowly,” said Khaavren, making no effort to speak softly. “It is a fine morning, and I wish to enjoy the ride.”

  “As you wish,” said Pel, and they led their horses out of the yard of the inn of the painted sign.

  It was, as Khaavren had remarked, a beautiful morning. Though still high summer, the mountains, as they will, cooled the air, and the constant streams and swirling breezes for which Mount Bli’aard is justly famous cooled it still more; also the orange red sky was thin, as it is in the east, and today was so far above them that it took on a faint lilac color, and the Furnace, which one can always feel but never see, was nearly visible, in that there was a direction, nearly straight ahead of them, in which one could not look without one’s eyes watering and wishing to shut on their own, and giving one the strange, unaccountable desire to sneeze, which each of them did several times.

  They made their slow, steady pace for a league up the road; then, just before reaching the last turn which would bring them to the place of the ambuscade, Uttrik made a sign; whereupon they rode their horses off to the sides of the road, dismounted, and tied them to trees, then slipped off, each to the place which had been prescribed.

  Though there were trees on each side of the road, they were not so thickly placed that Khaavren had to worry about striking branches with his head, or tripping over extended roots. And since, for the most part, they were mountain pines, they provided excellent concealment, which Khaavren, along with Aerich and Uttrik, used to good advantage. They moved far back down the slope, circled wide, and began to come back up. They crossed what were clearly the tracks of a dragon, but, fortunately, saw no more sign of the beast than that. At last Aerich said softly, “Oh.”

  “What is it? Do you see them?” whispered Uttrik.

  In answer, the Lyorn pointed up the slope, to where more than a dozen ill-dressed men and women waited with drawn weapons, staring at the path.

  “Let us get closer,” said Khaavren, in whose head the blood was beginning to pound.

  “Very well,” said Uttrik. “But carefully.”

  They maneuvered so close they could nearly make out words the brigands spoke as they whispered among themselves.

  “Now,” said Uttrik into Khaavren’s and Aerich’s ears, “we must wait for—”

  But that which was to be awaited occurred, or, to be precise, there was the sudden, unmistakable crack that is the discharge of a flash-stone. Uttrik, who had stood to battle before, and thus could anticipate the ringing in the ears of those who were close to the sound, used the time after it to draw his sword. Khaavren and Aerich, observing this, took no longer to arm themselves, and, moreover, each took his own flash-stone into his left hand.

  Uttrik said, “I believe, my lords, it is time to charge them.”

  “Well,” said Aerich with a shrug. “I believe the honor of the command is yours.”

  “I agree,” said Khaavren.

  “Well, then I am about to give the order.”

  “Do so,” said Khaavren, “we are with you.”

  “Then charge them,” he cried, and, with these words, Uttrik leaped up the slope, Khaavren and Aerich at his very heels. Even before they were noticed they heard the sounds of cries and of ringing steel from the other side of the road. Those they attacked had focused their attention on the commotion on the other side of the road, and thus had their backs well exposed to the three who bore down on them.

  Khaavren frowned when he realized that, whatever their position, his first blow would be to the back of a man who was not expecting such an attack. He set this consideration aside, however, and was on the point of preparing to strike, when Aerich said in loud and carrying voice, “Excuse me, gentlemen, but it would really be best if you were to surrender your weapons.”

  Khaavren had the distinct impression of several faces staring at him in amazement, then in disbelief, while for an instant no one moved. Then someone made a motion, small in itself, the turn of a foot, the readjustment of a hand upon a pommel, but, like the pebble that launches the rock-slide, it was enough.

  Khaavren’s arm, which seemed to be commanded directly by his eye without the commands having to pass through any apparatus on the way, struck out once, then again, and he felt himself suddenly in midst of a storm of steel that whirled around him and threatened to sweep him away; he entered that state where wounds, given or received, are unreal, for all that matters is the constantly evolving pattern of motion in which the broadest actions are subtleties, and finest adjustments of detail are grand strokes; here a half turn to the left, there a cut to the right, here an adjustment to ward off a blow with the dagger, there a twist to disarm, until, in what seemed to be no time at all except for the powerful though fragmented array of memory-images which assembled themselves for the consideration of his mind, all was quiet again, and Khaavren stood upon the field of battle, in the middle of the road, with his friends all whole and sound, save for a few scratches.

  What actually happened was this: the ambuscade had been set up with fifteen of the enemy on either side of the road. As Uttrik had foreseen, one of them had been hidden near the inn and had raced back to tell the others that their enemies were departing, but were only walking their horses. Uttrik’s plan had worked so well, in fact, that Baaro’s troops, if we may so call them, had not even begun to feel impatien
t when Pel, having decided that enough time had passed, released the heavy charge from his flash-stone.

  Baaro’s troops were heavily bunched together, so that the charge, while only killing one of them, stunned or wounded another five, while three more bolted down the road in terror so that there were only six of them remaining on that side of the road. It should be noted that the charge was of sufficient strength that Pel himself, in addition to being nearly deafened by the report, had to take a moment to recover, but, fortunately, Tazendra did not; her greatsword was ready to hand, and before the six remaining brigands had recovered from the shock she had brought two of them to the ground, including Baaro himself, whom she killed with a single blow to the collar.

  The remaining four were able to put themselves into a defensive position, and things might have gone poorly for Tazendra except that Mica, who had positioned himself on a rock ledge next to them and slightly higher than they, struck one such a blow on the head with his faithful bar-stool that the outlaw went down at once, and, at the same time, Pel, who had by now recovered and drawn his weapon, made a ferocious charge and, after dueling with one for the length of three passes, stuck his blade through the woman’s thigh, so that she was stretched out full length on the road. He and Tazendra turned to the remaining two, who put up token resistance for only a moment before turning and running down the road as fast as they could.

  Tazendra and Pel immediately rushed across the road. Now on that side, the battle was going in earnest, for though Khaavren had wounded one with his flash-stone (without even being aware of it), Aerich’s had failed to discharge. They were at once forced into a defensive battle, with Aerich, at the point of the triangle they formed, calmly knocking away blows with his vambraces and turning to strike only when he had a clear opening; in this way he had severely wounded two attackers. Uttrik, who fought with two longswords, found himself rather cramped by the defensive nature of the engagement, yet he had managed to kill one of his opponents who had been thrown off-balance by Aerich, and injure another who had become impatient with the ferocity of the defense.