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"Come on, sir!" Ned yelled to Bell. "Nobody left between you and Avram's
bastards."
I wish I could fight them all singlehanded, Bell thought. Had he been whole,
he would have, and gladly. Things being as they were, though . . . Things
being as they were, Bell muttered to his driver. The man flicked the reins.
The unicorn started forward. Each jolt as the wheels rattled across the bridge
hurt. Bell wondered when he would get used to pain. He'd lived in so much for
so long, but it still hurt. He suspected it always would.
As soon as he'd crossed, wizards called down lightning. This time, the cursed
southron sorcerers didn't interfere with the spells. The lightnings smote. The
bridge crashed in ruins into the Smew.
Bell hoped to find a farmhouse in which to make his headquarters. He had no
luck. Most of the country was woodland and scrub, with farms few and far
between so far that none of them made a convenient place from which to lead
the Army of Franklin. Up went the pavilion. Even with three braziers burning
inside it, it made a cold and cheerless place to spend a night.
After a meager supper, Bell summoned his wing commanders and Ned of the
Forest. When they arrived, he said, "We have to hold this line. We have to
keep the southrons out of Dothan and Great River Province."
Stephen the Pickle looked as steeped in vinegar as his namesakes. "How do you
propose to do that, sir?" he said. "We haven't got the men for it, not any
more we haven't." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but checked himself
at the last minute.
What Stephen didn't say, Benjamin the Heated Ham did: "We've thrown away more
men than we've got left. If we can make it to Great River Province or Dothan
with the pieces of this army we've got left, that'd be the gods' own miracle
all by itself. Anything more? Forget it." He shook his head.
"Where is your fighting spirit?" Bell cried.
"Dead," Colonel Florizel said.
"Murdered," Ned of the Forest added.
Glaring from one of them to the next, the commanding general said, "We need a
great stroke of sorcery to remind the southrons they can't afford to take us
for granted, and to show them we are not yet beaten." Stephen, Benjamin,
Florizel, and Ned all stirred at that. Bell ignored them. "I aim to fight by
every means I have at my disposal till I can fight no more. I expect every man
who follows me to do the same."
"Trouble is, sir, we don't have enough men leftto fight," Benjamin the Heated
Ham said. "We don't have enough wizards, either." The other wing commanders
and the commander of unicorn-riders all nodded at last.
"Gods damn it, we have to dosomething !" Bell burst out. "Do you want to keep
running till we run out of land and go swimming in the Gulf?"
"No, sir," Benjamin said stolidly. "But I don't want to get massacred trying
to do what I can't, either."
Ned of the Forest said, "Sir, while we're trying to hold this stretch of the
Smew, what's to keep the southrons from crossing the river east or west of us
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
and flanking us out of our position or surrounding us?"
"Patrols from your troopers, among other things," Lieutenant General Bell
replied, acid in his voice.
"I can watch," Ned said. "I can slow the southrons down some. Stop 'em? No
way in hells."
"If you fight here, sir, you doom us," Stephen the Pickle said.
"I don't want to fight here. I want to form some kind of line we can defend,"
Bell said.
No one seemed to believe he could do it. Silent resentment rose in waves from
his subordinate commanders. They had no hope, none at all. Bell waved with his
good arm. Stephen, Benjamin, Florizel, and Ned filed out of the pavilion.
I could use their heads in a rock garden, Bell thought, never once imagining
they might feel the same way about him or that they might have reason to feel
that way. He called for a runner. What went through his mind was,Half the men
in this army are runners. They've proved that . The young soldier who
reported, though, was still doing his duty. Bell said, "Fetch me our mages. I
want to see what we can expect from them."
"Yes, sir." Saluting, the runner hurried away.
In due course, the wizards came. They looked worn and miserable. Bell
wondered why it wasn't as if they'd done anything useful. He said, "I propose
holding the line of the Smew. I know I'll need magical help to do it. What can
you give me?"
The magicians looked at one another. Their expressions grew even more
unhappy. At last, one of them said, "Sir, I don't see how we can promise you
much, not when the southrons have handled us so roughly all through this
campaign."
"But we need everything you can give us now," Bell said, and then brightened.
He pointed from one wizard to the next. "I know what we need! By the gods,
gentlemen, I do. Give us a dragon!"
"Illusion?" a mage said doubtfully. "I think we're too far gone for illusion
to do us much good."
"Not illusion." Bell shook his big, leonine head. "I know that won't serve
us. They'll penetrate it and disperse it. Conjure up areal dragon and loose it
on the gods-damned southrons."
The wizards stared at one another again, this time in something approaching
horror. "Sir," one of them said, "thereare no dragons any more, not west of
the Great River. Not west of the Stony Mountains, come to that. You know there
aren't. Everybody knows there aren't."
"Then conjure one herefrom the Stony Mountains," Bell said impatiently. "I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"Come on, sir!" Ned yelled to Bell. "Nobody left between you and Avram's
bastards."
I wish I could fight them all singlehanded, Bell thought. Had he been whole,
he would have, and gladly. Things being as they were, though . . . Things
being as they were, Bell muttered to his driver. The man flicked the reins.
The unicorn started forward. Each jolt as the wheels rattled across the bridge
hurt. Bell wondered when he would get used to pain. He'd lived in so much for
so long, but it still hurt. He suspected it always would.
As soon as he'd crossed, wizards called down lightning. This time, the cursed
southron sorcerers didn't interfere with the spells. The lightnings smote. The
bridge crashed in ruins into the Smew.
Bell hoped to find a farmhouse in which to make his headquarters. He had no
luck. Most of the country was woodland and scrub, with farms few and far
between so far that none of them made a convenient place from which to lead
the Army of Franklin. Up went the pavilion. Even with three braziers burning
inside it, it made a cold and cheerless place to spend a night.
After a meager supper, Bell summoned his wing commanders and Ned of the
Forest. When they arrived, he said, "We have to hold this line. We have to
keep the southrons out of Dothan and Great River Province."
Stephen the Pickle looked as steeped in vinegar as his namesakes. "How do you
propose to do that, sir?" he said. "We haven't got the men for it, not any
more we haven't." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but checked himself
at the last minute.
What Stephen didn't say, Benjamin the Heated Ham did: "We've thrown away more
men than we've got left. If we can make it to Great River Province or Dothan
with the pieces of this army we've got left, that'd be the gods' own miracle
all by itself. Anything more? Forget it." He shook his head.
"Where is your fighting spirit?" Bell cried.
"Dead," Colonel Florizel said.
"Murdered," Ned of the Forest added.
Glaring from one of them to the next, the commanding general said, "We need a
great stroke of sorcery to remind the southrons they can't afford to take us
for granted, and to show them we are not yet beaten." Stephen, Benjamin,
Florizel, and Ned all stirred at that. Bell ignored them. "I aim to fight by
every means I have at my disposal till I can fight no more. I expect every man
who follows me to do the same."
"Trouble is, sir, we don't have enough men leftto fight," Benjamin the Heated
Ham said. "We don't have enough wizards, either." The other wing commanders
and the commander of unicorn-riders all nodded at last.
"Gods damn it, we have to dosomething !" Bell burst out. "Do you want to keep
running till we run out of land and go swimming in the Gulf?"
"No, sir," Benjamin said stolidly. "But I don't want to get massacred trying
to do what I can't, either."
Ned of the Forest said, "Sir, while we're trying to hold this stretch of the
Smew, what's to keep the southrons from crossing the river east or west of us
Page 191
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
and flanking us out of our position or surrounding us?"
"Patrols from your troopers, among other things," Lieutenant General Bell
replied, acid in his voice.
"I can watch," Ned said. "I can slow the southrons down some. Stop 'em? No
way in hells."
"If you fight here, sir, you doom us," Stephen the Pickle said.
"I don't want to fight here. I want to form some kind of line we can defend,"
Bell said.
No one seemed to believe he could do it. Silent resentment rose in waves from
his subordinate commanders. They had no hope, none at all. Bell waved with his
good arm. Stephen, Benjamin, Florizel, and Ned filed out of the pavilion.
I could use their heads in a rock garden, Bell thought, never once imagining
they might feel the same way about him or that they might have reason to feel
that way. He called for a runner. What went through his mind was,Half the men
in this army are runners. They've proved that . The young soldier who
reported, though, was still doing his duty. Bell said, "Fetch me our mages. I
want to see what we can expect from them."
"Yes, sir." Saluting, the runner hurried away.
In due course, the wizards came. They looked worn and miserable. Bell
wondered why it wasn't as if they'd done anything useful. He said, "I propose
holding the line of the Smew. I know I'll need magical help to do it. What can
you give me?"
The magicians looked at one another. Their expressions grew even more
unhappy. At last, one of them said, "Sir, I don't see how we can promise you
much, not when the southrons have handled us so roughly all through this
campaign."
"But we need everything you can give us now," Bell said, and then brightened.
He pointed from one wizard to the next. "I know what we need! By the gods,
gentlemen, I do. Give us a dragon!"
"Illusion?" a mage said doubtfully. "I think we're too far gone for illusion
to do us much good."
"Not illusion." Bell shook his big, leonine head. "I know that won't serve
us. They'll penetrate it and disperse it. Conjure up areal dragon and loose it
on the gods-damned southrons."
The wizards stared at one another again, this time in something approaching
horror. "Sir," one of them said, "thereare no dragons any more, not west of
the Great River. Not west of the Stony Mountains, come to that. You know there
aren't. Everybody knows there aren't."
"Then conjure one herefrom the Stony Mountains," Bell said impatiently. "I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]