Heirs of the Blade_ Shadows of the Apt_ Book Seven - Adiran Tchaikovsky [181]
He drove his followers hard, keeping them moving and keeping them organized. He had scouts on either flank, and Soul Je leading a band of the fleetest in the vanguard, whilst Mordrec and Ygor marshalled the main force, chivvying stragglers and keeping some semblance of order.
The pursuing riders had plainly lacked the nerve to simply charge straight into the forest, where their advantage would be swiftly lost, after which so would they. However, Dal knew there was more. Cavalry on their own won few battles, so there would be somewhere ahead where the Salmae would have picked out an ambush point – or at least that would be how Dal himself would arrange it. After all, it was hardly a great secret as to which direction the bandits would take . . .
So perhaps we jump the wrong way? Dal sent a runner ahead to fetch Soul back. ‘You know how the land lies ahead?’ he asked the Grasshopper. At Soul’s terse nod he continued, ‘What do you say to us breaking left, out into the open? Where can we find woods again, after that?’
‘A half-mile east and there’s a fair stand of cane forest, but it’s commune land.’
Dal stared at him hard, even as Soul loped along beside him, keeping pace. ‘Stick-kinden?’ he said, expressionless.
‘You don’t believe in them?’
‘I’m sharper than that, but even so . . . Three hundred brigands heading through Stick-kinden land, someone’s going to get it wrong, and we don’t need more enemies.’
‘We can always skirt the edges. Salmae might not follow,’ Soul suggested. ‘Break for the open again, quarter-mile, there’s denser woods. We can hide up there, set watch and stay overnight.’
They got clear of the woods without delay, despite a fair proportion of Dal’s people demanding to know where they were going. They lacked the discipline and the stamina of true soldiers, and the march was already beginning to tell on them.
But out in the open they found new motivation: the thought of the Salmae cavalry looming in every mind. Dal rode back and forth along the length of their ragtag formation, keeping them together and on the move. Soon enough, one of his people had spotted the enemy: a small shape dark against the sky. That was one of their nobles, high above on a dragonfly, hovering as its rider located the brigands and worked out where they were going. The sight sparked a certain satisfaction in Dal Arche. So, you didn’t guess we’d do this, eh?
Still, the Salmae were making the most of their new discipline, and their first troops were in sight just before the brigands made it to the edge of the cane forest. Footmen and riders both were approaching, but far enough away still for Dal’s people to get themselves under the suspect cover of the bamboo without trouble.
Once they had all assembled amongst the boles, Dal halted them. Around them the countless tall stalks remained ominously still, the field of close-packed verticals playing tricks on the eye. The sky above was darkening now, cloudless enough to promise a chill night. As the brigands stamped and shuffled, Dal waited on Mordrec and Ygor, who had gone to the perimeter to see what the Salmae would do next.
They were holding off, came Mordrec’s report at last. Nightfall had seen the sparks of Salmae campfires out beyond the canes, where they seemed to be settling down and waiting for dawn.
‘Which leaves us with a few possibilities,’ Dal remarked. ‘They might be tricking us and come for us at night, which’d mean a mess for all concerned. We could try and make our own move at night, and hope they won’t notice. Or perhaps they reckon they can match us as we move around the cane-forest edge, and pen us in here.’
‘We don’t want to be in here any longer than we need to,’ Ygor stated. ‘Mord and me, we saw