The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (39 page)

If Vaaler’s plan doesn’t work, we’ll all be slaughtered
.

The exiled prince had shared everything he knew about the strengths and weaknesses of the Danaan army with her and the chiefs from the other clans. He’d even recognized the description of the strange monster that walked with the enemy from his childhood fables: he called it an ogre.

Yet several of the chiefs were suspicious of his motives, especially when they found out Vaaler wasn’t willing to take up weapons against his own people. Shalana had explained his reluctance to fight by pointing out that in the confusion of battle, he could
easily be mistaken for the enemy, but she knew that wasn’t the only reason.

He still feels a kinship to them. He doesn’t want to put himself in a position where he must spill the blood of those he once called his own
.

Loudest among the voices opposing Vaaler was her own father. Despite his body no longer being fit for battle, Terramon had come to the Conclave with the Stone Spirit warriors in answer to her summons. But in the end, the direness of their situation finally won others over to her side. Despite his reputation as a great conqueror, Terramon could offer no strategy or battle plan that could save them—they simply didn’t have enough warriors to meet the Danaan head-on. And so they had gone with Vaaler’s tactics.

Our only hope is to harry and harass them
, he’d explained.
Slow them down long enough for your people to seek shelter near the mountains
.

From Roggen’s daily reports, Shalana knew hundreds of children, elderly, and other noncombatants were already pouring into the Giant’s Maw each day. He hadn’t been pleased when Shalana assigned him the task of overseeing the refugee camp; he was a warrior who wanted to be part of the battle. But the Sun Blade thane was well-known among many of the clans, giving him the authority and respect necessary to be in charge. He was also smart enough to understand the importance of the camp at the Giant’s Maw, and he was organized enough to manage the food and other supplies as the population swelled.

Thinking of Roggen reminded her of Berlen. They could have used his great strength on the front lines, but he had disappeared. Nobody had seen the Sun Blade’s mightiest warrior since the night Norr met with Hadawas and they left to seek out Daemron’s Sword.

She was still angry at Norr for leaving when they needed him most. To Shalana’s surprise, however, as news of their mad quest
spread among the warriors and refugees, it kindled hope among the people.

They’re scared and desperate. They need something
—
anything—to cling to
.

But Shalana and the chiefs knew better. Their survival didn’t depend on a long-lost mythical weapon. It would come from the spears and blades and blood of the men and women who dared to risk their lives against overwhelming odds.

They’d plotted the course of the Danaan march and laid their trap on the Frozen Sea, a wide plain covered with long lines of rolling, snow-covered hills that were said to resemble the ocean waves. The hills and uneven terrain would cut off lines of sight between the Danaan forces, giving the clans the cover they needed.

The enemy patrol was close now, less than twenty feet away. Any closer and they’d see through the Stone Spirit camouflage. Shalana sprang to her feet, rising from the snowdrift and unleashing a fierce battle cry. In response, her warriors burst from their concealment and charged the startled Danaan, closing in on them from all sides.

The patrol’s archers scrambled to fire at the onrushing enemy, but their fingers were numb and the drawstrings on their bows stiff from the cold. They managed only a single ineffective volley before the Stone Spirits fell on them.

Shalana felt the tip of an arrow graze her cheek, leaving a thin furrow that quickly filled with blood. But the wound was superficial, and she ignored it as she drove her spear deep into the chest of the archer who had fired it.

Spinning away from the mortally wounded foe, she yanked the spear free from his ribs and swung it around like a club, the butt end of the heavy shaft slamming into the skull of the Danaan who had rushed in at her from behind.

All around her the Stone Spirits stabbed, hacked, and slashed at their enemies, their savage fury taking full advantage of the element of surprise. She felt a rapier slash against her side, but the thin blade lacked the force to slice through the thick, fur-covered hides protecting her torso.

She spun on her assailant as the Danaan woman struck again, plunging the point of her blade deep into Shalana’s makeshift armor so that the tip bit into the flesh of her hip. Enraged by the pain, Shalana brought her spear slamming down on the other woman’s weapon, and the thin blade bowed and snapped beneath the force of her blow.

A quick jab with the spear to the woman’s throat ended the battle. In the snow around her all the Danaan lay dead and all the Stone Spirits were still standing.

“Find the horn!” Shalana ordered, and in response her warriors began rummaging through the bodies of their fallen foes.

“Here,” one shouted a few seconds later, tossing the horn over to her.

It was carved from the curved horn of some unfamiliar animal; hollowed out and fitted on the small end with a thin reed. According to Vaaler, the Danaan used the horns so the far-ranging patrols could communicate quickly even when separated by great distances. Shalana put it to her lips and blew a series of short and long blasts in the pattern he had taught her.

A few seconds later she heard similar calls ringing out across the fields. Some were from the other ambushes, others were actual Danaan patrols hearing her call and relaying the message to the rest of the troops:
Enemy forces attacking the left flank. Send all available reinforcements
.

Tucking the horn into her belt in case they needed it later, she and her warriors set off at a run in the opposite direction. A few minutes later they reached the rendezvous point; shortly after, they were joined by all the other groups that had staged similar
ambushes: nearly three hundred in all. There wasn’t time for a head count, but she noticed a few had come back missing one or two of their people—apparently not all the ambushes had been as successful as hers.

She waited a few more minutes to give Qarr time to get into position. The false alarm Shalana had sent out to lure the Danaan away wouldn’t work unless they actually saw enemy forces massing. The Black Wing chief had volunteered to lead several hundred clan warriors in a dangerous feint intended to keep the Danaan attention focused on the far side of the battlefield while Shalana and the others flanked the enemy and hit their supply wagons from the rear.

You’re not there to engage them
, Vaaler had reminded Qarr several times.
You just want them to chase you. Stay out of range of the archers and run them around in circles
.

Soon she heard another series of horn signals: the Danaan had spotted Qarr’s company and were giving pursuit. With a hand signal she set her troops in motion. Using the hills for cover, they ran in a long, wide loop in the opposite direction, away from Qarr and the Danaan reinforcements until they could come at the enemy from behind.

Unlike the patrols that stumbled into the ambush, the Danaan assigned to guard the supply wagons were tense and ready; they’d heard the horns and knew the enemy had come. But they were not expecting the barbarian horde that poured down from the surrounding hills, and once again the archers scrambled to ready their arrows.

Running at a full sprint with Shalana at their head, the howling, screaming horde closed the gap quickly … just not quite quickly enough. A volley of arrows rained down on them, the deadly missiles killing at least a dozen and wounding many more. But the Easterners never faltered, and seconds later they slammed into the Danaan ranks.

The battle lasted only a few minutes. With the Danaan patrols so spread out and most of them over a mile away chasing after the Black Wings, those left to guard the supply wagons were badly outnumbered. They put up a fierce resistance, but in the end they were quickly overwhelmed. Still they managed to get off several horn blasts calling for help before they were hacked down.

When the last defender fell, the clan warriors turned their fury on the supply wagons—breaking the axles and wheels, smashing the frames, and slicing open or chopping up any sacks, packs, and containers within reach.

“Find their oil!” Shalana shouted, knowing they didn’t have long before reinforcements arrived. “And the torches!”

By the time the Danaan forces showed up, Shalana and her people were gone. All they left behind were enemy corpses and dozens of shattered wagons, their contents engulfed in flames.

Vaaler didn’t want to take pleasure in war, but it was hard not to be swept up in the congratulations of Shalana and the others. His plan had worked brilliantly: men and women on both sides were dead, but the clan casualties were a fraction of what they had inflicted on the enemy.

I wonder how many of the fallen Danaan I knew personally?
he thought.

After burning the supply wagons, Shalana’s force had scattered in all directions, making it harder for the Danaan to pursue them. By now most had made it back to the temporary camp they’d used as their initial staging point, though a few stragglers were still coming in.

Shalana had chosen to make camp several miles from the site of the battle, far enough away that the Danaan wouldn’t stumble upon it by chance. A handful of small lamps provided just enough light to see but did little to ward off the chill of the night. The
others were used to the cold, but even covered in furs, Vaaler was shivering.

The vast majority of the clan warriors had remained at the camp during the battle. Vaaler’s initial plan wouldn’t have worked any better with a larger force, and he knew the more warriors Shalana sent, the more likely they’d be to try to engage the Danaan in a real fight. Fortunately, she’d seen the wisdom of his fears and agreed to hold them back.

Better to hide our true numbers for as long as possible anyway
, Vaaler thought.

Of those who’d been chosen to go with Qarr, most had already returned. To confuse the Danaan pursuit, they’d split their force up into smaller groups, each led by one of Shalana’s thane-chiefs. Only the Black Wings and their chief had yet to return, though that wasn’t surprising. To draw the Danaan as far away as possible, he and his clan had gone in the exact opposite direction of the camp. Even if the Danaan had abandoned their pursuit after realizing Qarr’s attack was only a ruse, it would take some time for the Black Wings to weave their way through the Frozen Sea’s hills and back to their hidden location.

Several skeins of wine and mead had been unpacked from the supply sleds and passed around to the troops, but their celebrations were subdued. Individual tales of bravery from the recent battle were recounted, along with toasts to honor those comrades who would never return.

But far fewer had died than any of them had expected, and they all recognized who was responsible. Vaaler had the honor of being personally thanked and congratulated by each and every chief and thane who entered the camp. At first he thought Shalana had ordered them to do it, but it quickly became clear their gratitude was sincere.

A person is judged by his actions among the clans
, he realized.

Even Terramon came over to see him.

“A great victory,” the grizzled warrior grudgingly admitted. “But this was only the first battle. Your trick with the horns won’t fool them again.”

“Maybe with their supplies ransacked, they’ll have to turn back,” Shalana said, having come over to stand by Vaaler protectively when she noticed her father’s approach.

“Is that the way of your people?” Terramon asked Vaaler. “Can you so easily be forced into retreat?”

“My people have changed,” Vaaler told him. “Before, they never would have sought out this war in the first place.”

Terramon scowled, then turned and wandered off.

“Ignore him,” Shalana said, placing a comforting hand on Vaaler’s shoulder.

This close to her, he could see the angry red slash on the pale skin of her cheek. She’d laughed off the injury, but Vaaler knew she’d come inches away from losing her eye … or her life.

“You have proved yourself this day,” she told him as he stared at the wound that somehow enhanced rather than marred her beauty. “The chiefs will not forget.”

Before Vaaler could reply a young woman stumbled into the camp. Even in the dim light of the lamps it was clear from her expression that something was wrong.

“Qarr?” Shalana whispered.

The young woman shook her head.

“He wasn’t supposed to fight!” Vaaler said, more angrily than he’d intended. “What happened?”

“The ogre,” the young woman muttered. “We followed your instructions. Once the Danaan began to chase us, we split up into smaller group. We stayed beyond the range of the archers. We led them in circles, listening to their horns to know which directions they were heading to try and cut us off. Everything was perfect.

“And then that monster appeared out of nowhere. It was fast—too fast to outrun. So Qarr ordered us to stand and fight.”

She was speaking in a dull, emotionless monotone, and Vaaler realized she was in shock.

“A trap?” Shalana guessed. “The Danaan used the ogre to lure you into an ambush?”

The woman shook her head.

“The beast was alone. Qarr died first. It tore his head off with a single blow.

“Our weapons couldn’t harm it,” she continued, still talking without any visible emotion. “Our spears bounced off its hide and our swords bent and snapped when they struck it.

“Every blow from its fists left another dead. Those of us still alive tried to run, but it chased us down. It was fast. So fast.”

“How many of you got away?” Shalana asked softly.

The woman shrugged.

“I don’t know. I heard others screaming, but I didn’t stop to look back.”

A pall fell over the camp; Qarr had over thirty Black Wing warriors with him.