The Great Northern War (The Portal Wars Saga Book 2) Page 4

  “I doubt a perimeter guard will have much in the way of intel, but we’ll see what we can do. Is there anything else, sir?”

  “No. I’ll expect your report at first light. Dismissed.”

  Axel touched fist to heart and marched out of the tent. As soon as he was outside, he turned toward his unit’s camp. Dozens of fires burned all around the clearing and the smell of cooking stew filled the air, reminding Axel how hungry he was. He wouldn’t eat too heavily with the night raid coming, though. An overfull stomach might slow him down.

  A quick scouting run would be best accomplished by a small group, maybe just half a dozen. Colten and Cobb for sure, and the big man Grubber could handle a prisoner on his own, so he’d come. The former housecarl wasn’t much of a scout yet, but he was quiet enough when he had to be. A couple of the veterans would round out the group. They’d leave after the sun set but before the moon fully rose, that would give them maximum cover.

  Five hours later Axel and his chosen men started out for the enemy camp. They went on foot lest a stray whinny alert the enemy to their approach. As they marched past the camp’s sentries Cobb said, “You’re going to be one of those commanders, aren’t you?”

  Axel shot him a look. “Care to elaborate?”

  “You know, one of those commanders who can’t delegate. You have to be in the lead on every mission. One of those.”

  “I suppose I am. I’d rather share the risk than sit around worrying. I know, sitting around and worrying is the commander’s job, but I’m not some old man”—he shot Cobb a pointed look—“who’s going to slow the youngsters down. Besides, it’s bad enough the general has to get his information secondhand. Thirdhand would be even worse. Any other complaints?”

  Axel pretended not to hear when Grubber asked Colten, “Are they always like this?”

  “Only before a dangerous mission. The banter helps lighten the mood.” Colten chuckled. “If they weren’t bickering, I’d really be worried.”

  The sun had fully set when they reached the edge of the woods. With Axel in the center, they dropped to their bellies and started to crawl. No words would be spoken until they returned to the road. Any traps would be noted for later.

  Foot by foot they crawled toward the enemy fortification, only the glow of the distant torches lighting their way. Axel checked in front of him, dragged himself ahead, checked another two feet, and repeat, over and over. It was painfully slow and he found no traps along his route. Hopefully the Straken forces had focused on building the fort and hadn’t gotten around to traps. It would make the approach that much less dangerous. Catapult stones, ballista bolts, and arrows were enough to worry about.

  At last, after he knew not how long, Axel reached the outer wall of the fort. He was close enough to hear the men on the other side grumbling about the toughness of the meat. There were no pickets outside the fence line so grabbing a sentry wasn’t happening. There was simply no way they could grab someone without getting spotted.

  He looked left and right. The rest of the squad had eased up beside him. If they couldn’t get a prisoner, maybe they could at least get some useful information. Axel pointed at his ears, then at the fort, then left and right. Finally he raised a single finger to indicate a one-hour time limit.

  His team spread out to eavesdrop. Maybe they’d get something for their effort, but he wasn’t holding his breath. Axel would remain here and no doubt learn about the enemy’s culinary habits.

  For the first ten minutes he didn’t hear much of anything. The fires popped and crackled and someone belched, that was all. At least it was until a stern voice said, “You boys holding up okay?”

  That had to be someone in charge. Maybe not the base commander, but a sub-commander for sure.

  “We’re okay, sir. Getting sick of dried venison, but other than that no complaints,” one of the soldiers said.

  “When do you think the Garenlanders will arrive?” another man asked.

  “Tomorrow or the next day,” the leader said. “Last our scouts reported, the Northern Army was forty miles out and that was a day ago. We’ll be seeing action soon I have no doubt.”

  “Good,” the first man said. “We’ve been sitting around doing nothing for a month.”

  There were murmurs of agreement and a few boasts but none of the overconfidence Axel hoped for. Battle was an ugly thing and these men sounded like they’d seen some of it. Their deployment had been easy up until now. But the Northern Army would change that soon enough.

  “Don’t get too excited,” the leader said. “The men of Garenland might be weak-kneed cowards, but their generals aren’t stupid. When they come, it won’t be only them that bleeds. Finish your meal, guard change in twenty minutes.”

  There were a bunch of “yes, sirs” followed by the faint scuff of boots. That they knew the Northern Army was coming didn’t surprise Axel. They’d assumed enemy scouts were watching them the whole way. It was unavoidable.

  The rest of the hour passed with nothing of interest said. Cobb was the first to return. He caught Axel’s eye and shook his head. Nothing useful. The rest of the men arrived one after the other. It wasn’t until Colten arrived last that he got a thumbs-up. The scout must have heard something useful.

  Axel motioned them back toward the woods. It was every bit as slow and painful crawling out as it was crawling in. At last they stood, out of sight of the fort.

  “Report,” Axel said.

  “I found a single pit lined with stakes,” Cobb said.

  “Same,” Grubber said.

  “I found one as well,” Colten said. “I also overhead the fort commander talking. Straken’s forces have occupied our scout fortresses in addition to building new ones right on the border.”

  That confirmed what they already guessed. “What about the main Straken force?”

  Colten shook his head. “No mention of it. Assuming they occupied our forts and the new ones at the same strength we did, how many soldiers would that leave wandering the province?”

  “We have no idea what their total force numbers, but I’d guess probably ten thousand less than it would otherwise have been. Let’s get back. I need to make a map for the general then get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  “As opposed to today?” Cobb asked.

  Axel smiled grimly in the dark. Unlike today, tomorrow was apt to be a red day.

  Chapter 7

  Allen tapped his fingers together and pondered the mess his new master had dropped in his lap. Or perhaps messes would be more accurate. He glanced across the crowded taproom where the brother and sister sat at a corner table. The pair had hardly spoken to him after Lord Shenk left. Once they closed up for the night, he’d have to have a serious talk with them. If they’d held anything back, he needed to know. He’d heard of the Rusty Arms tavern, but it was a third of the way across the city. Not a short walk by any means.

  And what was he supposed to do about Captain Kelten? Obviously, the truth was out. Allen was nearly as guilty as Lothair. He’d been feeding information to a Straken spy for years after all. Only Lord Shenk’s goodwill kept him from the end of a rope.

  He shook his head. Time enough to worry about Kelten when he came knocking. For now, Allen needed to focus on this wizard, Anders.

  Ulf tugged on his sleeve and pointed at the mercenaries. Even after getting his voice back, he spoke hardly a word.

  Eric and Erin had gotten up from their table and were making their way to the door. Allen left his post behind the bar and moved to cut them off.

  “Where do you think you two are going?”

  “Home,” Erin said. “It’s been a long day and we’re beat.”

  “Shake it off. We close at midnight then the four of us are going to have a long talk about a certain dead wizard. After that it’s across the city to the Rusty Arms.”

  “We can do it in the morning,” Erin said. “I’m so tired my eyes are crossed.”

  “You’re both aware of what our mutual empl
oyer is capable of, correct?”

  They both blanched and nodded. Good, at least they understood that much. “If we don’t have this mess sorted out when he gets back, we’re all dead. If that means you lose a little beauty sleep, so be it.”

  “The thing is,” Eric said, “the Arms closes at eleven. We can’t make it there tonight, even if we left now.”

  Allen frowned. The kid didn’t strike him as a liar, his face was too open. “What kind of tavern closes that early? I close at midnight and that’s considered early by some.”

  “The kind that opens at nine in the morning,” Erin said. “It’s a hangout for soldiers, people that get up early.”

  “Fine, we’ll have our talk now and meet up again at noon tomorrow to head over. Follow me.” Allen led the way back to his private office. It also served as his bedroom, but he didn’t care if the pair saw his mattress. “Ulf, watch the bar.”

  Allen figured people would be surprised by how tidy he kept his room. There was a single neat pile of papers on one corner of his desk, a quill and ink pot, and a dirk that served as his letter opener. His narrow cot was behind the desk and fully covered by his blanket.

  He sat on the edge of his desk and said, “Let’s have it. Everything that happened the day you were hired until you met Lord Shenk.”

  “It was only two days,” Eric said. “Anders hired us at the Arms last night and we met him this morning at the park.”

  “Walk me through it,” Allen said. “Even a small detail might be important.”

  “We went to the Arms for dinner, same as always,” Erin said.

  “We go there because they offer a bowl of stew and a roll for a silver penny. Cheapest meal you can find in that neighborhood,” Eric added.

  Erin shot him a look and he shut up. “Anyway, it was almost nine when Anders showed up. He talked to the bartender who pointed him our way. Don’t know why, but we weren’t complaining. It’s been three weeks since we had a job. He walks over to our table and says if we back him up in the morning, he’ll give us a double eagle.”

  “You trusted him?” Allen asked.

  “We were desperate,” Eric said, drawing another glare. “It’s not like we had employers beating down our door. It was worth the chance for that much money. Didn’t exactly work out how we planned.”

  Allen knew the feeling. Lord Shenk had a way of changing your plans the hard way. “Go on.”

  “So we agreed,” Erin said. “Anders nods and tells us to meet him at the park before dawn. When we show up, he tells us to hide and come out when he gives the signal. A little while later this rich guy walks into the clearing and they start talking. We get the signal and make our appearance. Next thing we know, Anders is dead, our weapons are so much scrap, and we’ve got a seriously angry wizard bearing down on us. When he offered us a job instead of a burial, we agreed. He marked us with his magic and said to meet him outside your place. You know the rest.”

  Allen nodded. There really wasn’t much to go on. “Would you say the owner of the tavern knew Anders?”

  Eric shrugged. “No idea. They didn’t seem especially friendly, but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “He’ll be the one we need to talk to. In the meantime, you two can stay in the garret upstairs. I don’t want you getting any ideas about warning the wizard’s friends.”

  “We don’t know the wizard’s friends,” Erin said.

  “So you say, but how do I know if you’re telling the truth? If you think I’ll risk angering Lord Shenk, you’re crazy.”

  Erin reached for the dagger at her belt. “And if we refuse?”

  “You two can kill me, no doubt about that.” Allen turned and revealed the mark on the back of his neck. “But he’ll know and I suspect you know what will happen next.”

  Her throat worked as she tried to swallow. Finally Erin put her dagger away. “Fine, a bed’s a bed.”

  Allen smiled. He had no idea if Lord Shenk would actually know if they killed him, much less care, but the bluff worked. Now he just needed to figure out what was actually happening before the wizard killed him himself.

  The commander of the Garen city watch, Norman Trask, a pot-bellied man in his fifties who’d lost an arm in some fight long ago, sat behind his desk and puffed away at his pipe while Kelten explained his theory and what he needed. The commander wore a black and gold uniform with a griffin patch on the right shoulder. His office in watch headquarters wasn’t much, but it was private and had a door.

  Trask didn’t answer to Kelten and any help he offered would be out of the goodness of his heart and a desire to see justice done. The city watch was its own organization and while Kelten could certainly bully a low-ranking watchman into following his orders, no way was that going to work with Trask.

  In fact, there was a history of bad blood between those who served in the city proper and those who served in the palace. The watch tended to regard the palace guards as stuck up and the palace guards saw the watch as not having what it took to really protect the king. Kelten had tried his best to put an end to that sort of thinking, but he knew plenty of the old-timers on both sides still thought that way. His only hope was that Trask wasn’t one of them.

  When he finally finished Trask said, “So you don’t buy the theory that your assassin was working for Straken?”

  “I think he probably was, but I don’t think that’s all there is to it. I’ll be happy to be proven wrong, but the king died on my watch and I have to know for sure. Can you tell me anything about Lothair?”

  Trask drummed his fingers on a short stack of paper in the center of his desk and looked Kelten up and down. Finally he said, “You’re not the only one curious about that incident. The king dying makes you look bad, well, just think how I feel. A ring of Straken spies was operating in my city and not only did I have no clue, but some amateur from the sticks stumbled on them and helped bring them in. He made me and my men look incompetent at best and complicit at worst.”

  “I’ve heard no talk in the palace questioning the watch’s loyalty. Certainly King Wolfric has offered no complaint in my hearing.”

  “It’s probably more in my head than in reality, yet I can’t stop thinking we should have done something.”

  Kelten’s smile held no humor. “Then we have the same problem. I can’t stop thinking about my failure either. Perhaps together we can find some satisfaction.”

  “Perhaps.” Trask picked up the papers and held them out. “This is everything we know about the incident and Lothair himself. He had some minor brushes with the watch as a teen, but lived an honest, or at least outwardly honest, life since. He ran with another kid named Allen, no known family name, during his rowdy years. The man owns a tavern called the Thirsty Sprite. I’ve been debating how best to approach him. Maybe I’ll just let you handle it.”

  Kelten took the bundle of papers. “It would be my pleasure. Thank you for your help.”

  “Keep me informed.” Trask held out his hand and Kelten shook it.

  It seemed he wasn’t going to have to manage this on his own after all.

  Chapter 8

  Axel stood with his men in the clearing where the Northern Army had gathered. General Varchi had listened calmly as Axel gave his report over the pounding of nearby construction crews. Four pit traps guarded the approach to the enemy fort. They estimated two thousand enemy soldiers were stationed there. In a straight fight, they wouldn’t last five minutes against the ten thousand men arrayed against them. Given their defensive position they could inflict serious damage to the Northern Army, just not enough to stop them.

  The rest of Axel’s meager intel was just confirmation of what they already expected. Naturally the enemy would make use of Garenland’s abandoned forts, it only made sense. Retaking their territory was going to be a long, miserable slog and it would only get worse once they reached Straken itself. There, they’d have to worry about the entire population fighting them.

  At least the Third Legion was expected to catch up to
them in a day or two. With the Northern Army at full strength, they should be able to plow through any opposition.

  The pounding stopped as the engineers finished the eight-foot-long bridges that would span the pits and serve as huge shields for the first wave to approach the enemy position. Axel was relieved that his men wouldn’t be in the vanguard. They were scouts, not heavy infantry. They’d stay in the rear and help the spotters. If the enemy had any forces hiding somewhere nearby, they would be responsible for sounding the alarm.

  The First Legion would be leading the charge. The soldiers wore heavy banded mail and carried round shields that covered them from neck to knee. Enemy archers would have little to aim at with that much steel protecting them. It was the catapults that worried Axel. Armor or not, a twelve-pound stone slamming into a soldier would do him no good.

  General Varchi emerged from his tent dressed in red-lacquered plate armor, a gold-hilted broadsword on his hip. His helmet had a crimson streak of horsehair running from back to front. He looked every bit the general. A century of soldiers fell in around him. The elite guard would keep any threat from getting too close, not that the general would be on the front line.

  “Ready to give those Straken bastards a taste of Garenland steel, men?” the general asked.

  A roar went up from the assembled soldiers. They knew many of them would die, but this was the moment they’d been waiting for. Now they could take the enemy with them.

  “Then let’s go!” General Varchi shouted.

  Sub-commanders barked orders and soon the designated groups had taken up the mobile bridges. Like a great, ponderous serpent, the First Legion marched out. The general fell in at the rear. As they passed, he motioned for Axel to join him.