Arms-Commander

XXXI

Saryn completed all the tasks and planning Ryba had requested, from assigning duties to various detachments to planning the logistics of transporting the various devices and explosives. Before dawn on fiveday, she and Ryba and second company’s third squad were riding eastward along one of the approach routes to Westwind.

Ryba seemed disinclined to talk, and Saryn wasn’t about to initiate either questions or conversation when the Marshal was so self-absorbed. While Ryba had been somewhat distant as a ship commander, over the years at Westwind she’d become even more self-contained. Not exactly withdrawn, because she trained with the guards and ate with everyone else, but there was definitely a space between her and others, even when she was in the middle of a group.

Midmorning came-and went-before Ryba spoke. “This is still the way they’ll come.”

Saryn had her own idea as to why the Gallosians would take the road that Ryba and Saryn followed, the most northerly route out of Gallos toward Lornth. There were no truly narrow passes all the way to Westwind, although there was one valley surrounded by rocky cliffs, but the cliffs were a good half kay from the road. “Even though it’s the most obvious, ser?”

“Obvious or not, after all we’ve done to harass them, they won’t take a road where easy ambushes are possible. That’s one reason why I ordered the attacks.”

“So that they’d take the most open road?” On the face of it, that made no sense.

“The road that seems the most open. Appearances aren’t always what they look to be.”

Saryn could understand that, even if she didn’t recall why that would be so on the route they were traveling.

Not until late afternoon did they reach the west end of a comparatively shallow valley running generally east to west, whose northern side was comprised of rocky hills that footed taller and snowcapped peaks and whose southern side largely comprised a long mesa with sheer cliffs overlooking the valley. As Saryn recalled, the valley extended almost eight kays, and at the eastern end, which she could not see, was a slightly deeper bowl-like depression, to the east of which was a moderately good-sized stream.

Ryba reined up at the top of the pass, just before the road began a straight and gentle descent. She studied the entire valley, then she nodded to the squad leader. “Forward.”

Halfway down the incline, nearly a kay farther along, the Marshal again halted and surveyed the valley, particularly the cliffs to her right, the ones buttressing the rocky mesa. To Saryn, it was obvious that the Marshal was comparing something she had seen-or foreseen-to what she was now seeing, measuring everything with her eyes. The Marshal gestured for Saryn to ease her mount closer.

Saryn did so, reining up when she was almost stirrup to stirrup with Ryba.

“The middle section of the road, down there.” Ryba pointed. “Right in the middle of the valley. You can see that there aren’t any trees to the south of the road, just mountain meadows sloping up to the base of the cliffs. It looks like a gradual incline, but it’s steeper than that. There’s a mass of rock ready to break loose on the side of the mesa. When it does, it will reach the road and still be a good ten yards high.”

How can she be so certain? “That much rock will make the road impassable.”

“Yes, it will.” Ryba could have been acknowledging that the sun would set every day.

Saryn understood. In addition to hopefully burying part or all of Arthanos’s army, such an avalanche would reduce the number of routes through the Roof of the World to two, both of which had narrow passes that were far more easily defended and controlled.

“You see that overhang?” asked the Marshal. “Where the reddish stone bulges out?”

“Yes, ser. Is that where you want the explosive penetrators, or what ever you call the iron funnels that you had Huldran forge?”

“Precisely. How long will it take you to get them in place?”

“Two or three days, but it could take an eightday. It’s hard to tell from here. We can cut across from the pass back there to reach the mesa, and there’s a saddle that looks clear enough. But we’ll probably have to use ropes to place them. The rock on top looks rugged and not too stable, and we don’t want to trigger anything before Arthanos’s army is down below.”

Ryba nodded. “You’d best get started as soon as we return. I’m counting on you to determine the optimum placement so that the entire overhang comes down.”

“How will we know when to set off the charges?”

“It will be sunny enough. We’ll use mirrors. Smoke if it’s not sunny. I’d prefer mirrors. I want the bastards to see what’s coming.”

They’re not all bastards. A lot of them are poor armsmen just following orders.

As if she had read Saryn’s thoughts, Ryba replied, “We’ve been here ten years. We’ve never attacked their lands. We’ve never invaded. We’ve never threatened. But they keep trying to stop those who would join us. They’ve cut off trade and supplies. Even after we destroy this army, the winter will be long and hard. Destroying ten thousand armsmen will keep Gallos off our back for a good twenty years, if not longer, and we’ll need every year.” She paused, then continued in a softer tone. “In your own time, Saryn, you’ll see. You’ll come to understand that there are times when any sign of fairness or decency is only perceived as weakness, that there are times when only being a tyrant will suffice for the greater good. You will wonder, time and again, if you’re rationalizing when you do what must be done. Remember that when a male ruler does what is necessary, he is a strong and forceful leader of his people. When a woman does exactly the same, she’s a cruel bitch who is extreme and unfair.” Ryba laughed, harshly. “Already, the world has begun to forget what Nylan did to Cyador and how many tens of thousands perished. You saw that with the Suthyans. Yet two lands and the holders of a third want to attack and destroy a single settlement of perhaps five hundred women and children. Why? Because Westwind is ruled by a woman for women.” After another brief silence, she finished. “It’s better to be a just tyrant who provides freedom than a dead ruler who tried to be fair in an unfair world.”

Strangely, Saryn heard no bitterness in Ryba’s tone. Her words had been delivered with a pleasant yet chilling calmness.

Abruptly, the Marshal turned her mount. “We’ve seen what we came to see.”

Saryn eased the gelding around and beside the Marshal. They had a long ride back.