The Crimson Campaign

“We have our backs to the river,” Tamas said. “And we have significant manpower. The terrain will be very different tomorrow.”

“You mean to shape the terrain to your needs?” General Cethal shook his head. “It can’t be done. We’d need a week to prepare.”

Tamas stared hard at General Cethal. “Expecting defeat will surely bring it,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Cethal said.

Tamas took a moment to look each officer in the eye before going on. “The ancient Deliv, back before the Time of Kresimir, were foreigners to the Nine. Our own ancestors were just some of the barbarians the Deliv faced. The Deliv had barely a fraction of the fighting men, but they were better organized. A Deliv legion could march thirty miles and create an entire fortification to camp all in one day. They survived because they had the discipline and the will. We shall do the same.”

As he spoke, Tamas had been drawing lines in the dirt with his stick. He pointed at one line. “The soil is somewhat rocky, but the dirt is loose and easy to dig.” He pointed to a series of Xs. “Hune Dora Forest has an abundance of wood.”

Colonel Arbor squatted beside the crude drawing and examined it for a moment. He suddenly laughed. “It might work. Should I get my boys digging?”

“Your battalion has the first rest. We’ll be working all night, so it’ll be done in shifts. Then you’ll chop trees. General Cethal, your men will be digging.”

“My men? The Ninth?”

“Yes. All of them.”

“Do you intend to create a palisade?” General Cethal asked.

“Not quite,” Tamas said. “Get digging. I’ll come around in an hour and give each company specific instructions.” He made a shooing gesture with his stick. “Get to work.”

Tamas watched his officers head off toward their men. It was going to be a long night. He hoped that when morning came, and battle was joined, his efforts would be worth it. Otherwise he would have exhausted all of his men for nothing.

“Mihali,” he whispered to himself, “if you’re still with us… I need some help.”

It was the closest thing to a prayer he’d ever spoken.

Adamat and SouSmith watched the abandoned manor where Privileged Borbador was being kept. The street was empty, the air silent. Dark clouds threatened on the southern horizon, and the wind was beginning to pick up. They were in for a stormy night.

There were no signs of Verundish’s soldiers in the manor. Adamat wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He’d left the money yesterday at an address the Deliv colonel had given him. He couldn’t help but think of all the things that could go wrong, or wonder whether she had taken the money and simply changed where they were hiding Bo.

Adamat headed down the hill and navigated the ruin until he found the servants’ quarters. Bedding was gone, debris picked up. The only sign soldiers had ever been there was warm ashes in one of the fireplaces. Adamat grew more nervous with each step. Was it all for naught, blackmailing the Proprietor and gathering the money?

The door to the room where they’d kept Bo was closed. He turned the knob and stepped inside.

Privileged Borbador was gone. The chair, the bed, even the stand and the book were still there, but Bo was gone.

“Bloody pit!” Adamat kicked over the book stand. “That bloody…” He dropped into the chair, head in his hands. She’d just taken the money and left, just like that. And with her, Privileged Borbador, and any hope Adamat had of getting his wife back.

SouSmith leaned in the doorway, watching Adamat with a frown. “What’ll you do?” he asked.

Adamat wanted to gouge his own eyes out. What could he do? He thought he’d known despair, but this…

The hall floorboards creaked. SouSmith turned. Adamat pulled the pistol from his pocket. If that was Verundish, he’d shoot her without a second thought.

Bo stepped past SouSmith and into the room. His hair was brushed back, his lapels straightened, and his beard shaved and styled into thick muttonchops.

Adamat felt the strength go from his limbs. He slumped back in the chair and stared at the Privileged.

“I thought you looked beat up the last time we spoke,” Bo said. “What happened to your nose?”

“I’m going to hit the next person who asks me that.” As long as they weren’t a Privileged, Adamat added silently.

Bo gave a thin smile. “Thank you,” he said, “for getting me released. They treated me well enough, but no one likes being tied up like that, not even able to move my hands.” He flexed his fingers. “So stiff.”

“You’re welcome,” Adamat said. “Now you’ll hold up your part of the bargain?”

“I have some things to do.” Bo stepped to the window and looked out.

Adamat felt his chest tighten. Things to do? “I need you now.”

“You’ll have me tomorrow.”

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Adamat said. “I need to make sure I have your help.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I can’t afford to,” Adamat said.

“If I decide to ignore our deal, you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Probably not,” Adamat agreed.