Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) (21 page)

“Dorman!” shouted Bedistai as he leapt from Chawah’s back. “I need you to get Tahmen.”

Dorman, who had been talking to a friend, was at first unable to respond.

“What’s the matter? Can’t you speak?”

“He’s… ” Dorman hesitated before finishing. “He’s ridden west with his pod.”

“Natal as well?”

Dorman nodded.

“Do you know how to find them?”

“N-no,” the youth stammered, shaking his head. “What’s wrong?”

Realizing how intimidating he must sound, Bedistai took a breath and calmed himself. “What about Lorek?” he asked in a quieter tone, “Do you know where he is?”

Dorman nodded.

“He’s in the garden area. He was bringing Josah some bulbs when I last saw him. You know, the kind she grows to make… ”

“I don’t have time for this. Find him and have him meet me in the common area.”

Again Dorman nodded, still looking uncertain. When the boy failed to move, Bedistai nearly shouted.

“Go! Can you run?”

Awakened from whatever trance he was in, Dorman blinked, then turned and ran toward the village’s gardens. When Bedistai glanced around to determine what he should do next, he noticed several neighbors watching.

“Mardit,” he said, addressing a woman in the group. “Find as many elders and pod leaders as you can. Something serious is happening. We need to devise a plan. Ask each one you see to locate the others. I want all those in charge to meet me in the common area in no more than half an hour.”

“Certainly,” she said and ran off between the houses.

“I’ll get Salmeh,” said another, gathering her skirts and rushing off.

He turned to see Darva dismounting. Obviously distressed, she rushed to his side and he explained what had happened.

“I can’t believe it’s him,” she said when he had finished his account. “How could it have happened?”

“Do you mean how did he come to be ruler of Monhedeth?” he asked.

She nodded.

“It’s both ludicrous and frightening,” she said.

“Based on the evidence at hand,” he said, “we have to accept it as fact. All that matters now is that he is bringing his army and we have only three days to prepare.” He frowned and added, “This couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every able-bodied man is out on a hunt. The cold days are almost upon us, so we are stocking up for the season. If we have any hope at all of surviving his attack, those of us still here have to race across No’eth and order the hunters to return—not only to Mostoon—but to every other village.”

“I never should have sent my bodyguard home,” said Darva.

“They would have been too few to make a real difference.”

“They were fierce!”

“At the time, you had no way to anticipate any of this. Come, let’s locate Miened and the children and tell them what’s happening.”

Half an hour later, Bedistai and Darva arrived at the village commons. A quick head count told Bedistai the eighteen village elders had assembled, but none of the pod leaders. Lorek alone, out of all Mostoon’s hunters, stood waiting. Five days earlier, he had sprained his wrist severely enough to make wielding a bow impossible. Instead of hunting, he was using the time spent recuperating to assist the village cooks and gardeners. In fact, it was Bedistai’s own recovery that had allowed him the luxury of an outing with Darva, when, under normal circumstances, he would have been absent as well. He understood that if, in this time of crisis, the ones remaining could not locate enough men in their prime, it would be these and ones like them who would have to defend No’eth against Harad’s regiments. What would happen to his people then?

“Hail, Bedistai!” a man called.

It was Wyeth, seniormost of Mostoon’s elders.

“What brings us together?”

“I have grave news,” replied Bedistai.

The comment was met by questioning looks all around.

“Invaders are amassing to our north.”

At that, an eruption of comments and exclamations spread through the crowd like a gust across a meadow. When the noise quieted enough that Bedistai could continue, he related the day’s encounter, relating in detail how he had discovered what he now knew to be a military convoy. He waited through the hush that followed, while his audience digested the full implications of what was coming, allowing them time to arrive at what their proper response must be.

“I still ride,” called a woman on his left.

When he turned, he saw his mother and her eagerness to assist made him smile.

“Many of my friends do as well,” Salmeh added.

Mardit stepped forward.

“I and several of mine also ride from time to time and I know where three of the pods are hunting.”

Mardit was one-third Salmeh’s age and it pleased him she volunteered. While he doubted if anyone, regardless of age, would decline to assist, the coming days would be hard on his mother’s generation. Certainly, they would not stand down until they were forced to, but he needed the vitality of youth and the physical strength of Mostoon’s hunters to comprise the core of the effort, preferring that the elders remain at home, tending to Mostoon’s children.

“Are any of the pods still nearby?” he asked Wyeth, hoping one or two had recently returned with kills and were still in the area. Fresh hides on the stretching racks indicated a recent return.

Wyeth shook his head.

“Modik’s returned yesterday, but after dropping off their catch… ” He gestured toward meat drying on adjacent racks. “ …they went back to find more.”

“How many riders do we have?” asked Bedistai.

It had been months since he had been part of Mostoon’s daily life. The time he had spent helping Peniff, then being housebound for weeks after his return, left him uncertain as to the current state of affairs.

“There are at least two dozen women in Mostoon who can ride,” Salmeh offered. “More than enough to locate those who are out hunting.”

Several women raised their hands to identify themselves.

“That’s good,” said Bedistai. “We will use half to locate our men and send the rest to notify the other villages. We need to act quickly. If you don’t leave within the hour, I am afraid we will run out of time.” He turned and asked Wyeth, “In the meantime, how do you propose we organize Mostoon’s defense?”

The elder pursed his lips.

“Warriors require food,” he said after a moment’s thought on the matter. “Those women who cannot ride or do not choose to fight need to begin packaging whatever is available.”

“We took down six racks of dried meat yesterday,” one woman volunteered. “We can start breaking down the packages we’ve made and repackage them into smaller ones.”

“Won’t that deplete our stores?” asked another.

“That is the least of our worries,” replied Wyeth. Turning back to the first, he said, “Assemble as many helpers as you need to finish the job by midday tomorrow.”

“We have jars of dried fruit,” offered another. “There are enough women in my lodge to have it rationed and repackaged by tomorrow,” she said as she rose and left to get help.

“I’m worried our arrows will run out,” a gray haired man said. “We’ve made enough for the hunt but I’m sure there won’t be enough for a battle.”

Because the Haroun were not warriors and had not fought for generations, Bedistai explained, “We can reuse Harad’s if we need to—pick them up and return them as we fight. Still, I suspect that won’t be much of an issue. No’eth’s terrain lends itself better to hand-to-hand combat, and for that I rate hunting knives over arrows and swords.”

“It’s the very problems the landscape creates that concern me,” said another. “They can’t see us coming and we can’t see them. We’ll be stumbling into one another with no way to prepare ourselves. Too many of us will die.”

“That’s where we have an advantage,” countered Bedistai. To the curious looks he received, he replied, “We have our endaths. We may not know from which direction the enemy is approaching, but our endaths will. If we listen to them and pay attention to their reactions, we can anticipate the enemy’s arrival before they come into view.”

His audience relaxed noticeably and they began to discuss ways to take advantage.

“We can ambush them from atop the knolls,” a woman offered with enthusiasm.

“Or come up behind them from one direction while they’re going down another,” an old man replied.

Bedistai smiled at the conversation’s tone, hoping, all the while, it would not be these on whom Mostoon depended. Rather, his optimism stemmed from an earlier concern that their fear could paralyze their effort to prepare for the days to come and he considered how this new enthusiasm might be adequate to carry them through the long sleepless days ahead.

It was the morning of the second day when Tahmen, followed by the rest of his pod, raced into the common area. His endath was still coming to a halt when he leapt from its back and landed in a crouch beside his brother. Arriving behind him, the rest reined in their mounts. Bedistai, who had been discussing battle preparations with Josah, a woman packaging supplies, interrupted the discussion and turned. The brothers embraced, grinning broadly, before stepping back to appraise one another.

“Ho! You’re on you feet,” Tahmen said, appraising Bedistai’s abdomen and side. “When did this happen?”

“It’s been a few days now,” said Bedistai as he regarded what the endaths were carrying. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Busy? Hah! Better than busy. Four jennets, two umpalls and a clutch of fezz,” Tahmen boasted, pointing toward the six beasts draped across each endath’s shoulders as well as a string of game birds hanging from one saddle’s pommel. “We’re almost up to your standard,” he said clapping Bedistai on the shoulder.

“I’d say you’ve done better.”

“I hope you will join us on a hunt once this nasty business is finished,” Tahmen replied. His face turned sour as he added, “Tell me about it.”

Josah, who had been waiting patiently, told Bedistai, “We’ll be storing what we’ve packaged in my house.”

She raised four leaf-wrapped bundles, each bound with twine, to illustrate. When he nodded his approval, she turned to Tahmen, who, noticing her for the first time, appeared chagrinned at having interrupted.

“If you will excuse me,” she said, giving him a nod and a smile, “I have work to do.”

She turned and made her way back toward the houses.

By then, the rest of the pod had dismounted and joined them. Natal and Bartok stood at Bedistai’s side, while two younger men who had recently passed into manhood, named Mordeq and Caleb, positioned themselves beside his brother. These last two replaced Samen and Assah who had been slain in Monhedeth. Since Tahmen would not admit just anyone to his pod, their presence spoke to a high level of skill and intelligence.

Yet again, Bedistai recounted his trip with Darva and the reason for his precipitous return. All the time he was speaking, his brother appeared deep in thought.

“Has Wyeth decided how we should deal with them?” Tahmen asked.

Bedistai shook his head.

“He’s letting me decide.”

Tahmen cocked his, looking not so much doubtful as curious. It was, after all, the seniormost elder’s prerogative to make such decisions and Wyeth’s deferral spoke to his high regard for Bedistai.

“Only two other pods have thus far returned,” said Bedistai. “That leaves twenty-two still unaccounted for. Without even half of them here, devising a strategy is impossible. I did give the riders we dispatched to the rest of the villages instructions, but the advice I gave was based on the assumption that most, if not all, of their pods would participate.”

“This doesn’t sound good” said Tahmen.

“The day is still young. We have until sundown to evaluate.”

Movement caught Bedistai’s eye. He looked up to see Dorman, who had stationed himself on a rooftop. The youth was rising to his feet, eyes fixed on something distant. Perhaps sensing they were watching, he extended a hand, fingers spread, his palm turned towards Bedistai and the others as if to say, “Wait,” and held that pose a minute longer before turning to face them. He smiled and raised two fingers.

“Two more pods are returning,” explained Bedistai. “Let’s see how the day unfolds. Perhaps by supper I can propose something meaningful.”

In fact, by late afternoon all the hunters had returned and were assembled in the common area, most sitting cross-legged on the ground. Bedistai was completing his assessment of Mostoon’s situation when a young man said, “Our village is so small. Compared with what I’ve heard about Monhedeth’s cities, we hardly matter. What chance do we stand against an army?”

Ortok, whom Bedistai had asked to lead his own pod during his absence, rose to speak.

“It’s good that you ask. I’ve been calculating how our numbers stand up against theirs,” he said.

Bedistai laughed and said, “You were always better with numbers than any of us, certainly better than I am.”

That elicited laughter and Ortok waited for the noise to subside.

“Mostoon has almost one hundred hunters,” he said, “and there are twenty-six villages scattered throughout No’eth with similar numbers. All told, that’s somewhere around two thousand six hundred fighters. While I expect that will be somewhere between half to two-thirds of what Monhedeth may bring, we use our skills regularly and spend at least some of our time training for war. I doubt one could say the same about them.” Ortok winked saying, “I wouldn’t be too concerned over how we match up in a fight.”

That drew another round of laughs.

“Our problem,” said Bedistai, “is how and where to engage them given how little time we have to deploy. What still remains uncertain is whether they will come in a concentrated mass, or spread themselves across the entire frontier.”

He had everyone’s attention.

“Although a concentrated force would seem the more formidable to confront, once they have advanced several miles into No’eth, I believe the terrain will disorganize their advance to such an extent that their numerical advantage, along with any organization they may employ, would eventually deteriorate as they become increasingly spread out at random. I have to believe Harad is smart enough to recognize that possibility. In addition, from what I heard, he intends to try the latter approach, that is to spread his forces out. So long as they continue to advance southward, it matters little if some units merge with others. Again, I believe Harad is smart enough to expect this will happen however he plans.

“Clearly, it will be wise to avoid engaging them early on when they are most unified. On the other hand, if we allow them to advance too far into No’eth, enough may slip by and reach some of the villages. Bandoon, Nesuth and Hom are the northernmost, and therefore the most vulnerable. I’ve asked the other villages to position their fighters five miles south of the frontier, concentrating themselves first around these three. As Harad’s forces move farther into No’eth, I’ve requested that our fighters begin readjusting their positions to defend those next in line. This is where we begin to have the advantage.

“Although Harad’s soldiers will be broken into increasingly smaller units until it is just handfuls or individuals advancing, we have the ability to remain organized.”

Bedistai’s audience at first looked puzzled until he reminded them, “Our endaths will remain constantly aware of our enemy’s positions. We will instruct them to coordinate our attacks on where the forces are spread the thinnest. Unless attacking larger groups becomes unavoidable, we will go after individuals or the smaller units first.

“Finally, at the end of the first day, if they have not found places to sleep—and they will have to sleep eventually—the darkness will hamper them. Not so our endaths. If Harad’s soldiers have not broken out torches—and I hope that they do… ” He grinned. “ …all the better to locate them—our endaths will tell us where they have camped, at which point we will slay them where they sleep.”

Whatever doubts that some might have harbored now vanished.

“Assemble your gear. We will leave at first light. Sleep well,” said Bedistai. “This may be the last real sleep you enjoy for many days to come.”