Chapter 232

The smell of smoke was thick in the air, but despite that, Neia stayed a ways back from the flames, if anything, much farther than she needed to, over near Olasird'arc. "So," she said, looking up at her companion with a playful smile, "I guess not caring much for fire goes with the rest of," she waved her hand up and down her body, "this?"

"Yes." He remarked in his rough sort of way, had he been human, or even demihuman, he might have shrugged as if to say 'you're not missing anything'.

"I stay alive, get stronger than I dreamed, and get to fly… but I don't like fire anymore…" Neia tapped a taloned finger on her chin and looked away in a mockery of deep thought, "Yeah, fair trade." She lagged and smacked the dragon on the talon. "I really can't thank you enough, but with all that said…" Neia looked past the burning husk of an empty town, "why isn't she chasing us yet?"

"Could she not have figured out your plan?" Olasird'arc asked.

Neia frowned. "She is an idiot, but even if Gustav is off fighting Astraka in the west, my line of march should be obvious… oh… wait… no… she really is that stupid." Neia smacked her face with the palm of her hand, "If Gustav were with her he would have worked it out. Anyone else, even if they figured it out, nobody would want to actually tell her and risk making her mad."

"So… what will you do?" Olasird'arc asked.

Neia thought it over, "Standard practice for the Holy Kingdom is probing attacks, so she will probably send out a battalion sized element to the rear somewhere, using Kalinsha as the headquarters. It was stupid of me to think she would be smart enough or bold enough to predict me… even if it was obvious."

"Couldn't it be some clever stratagem?" Olisard'arc asked, "My… son, when he was alive, read a great deal, and talked often about cunning little folk who used strategy as a replacement for physical strength."

Neia put her hand on his talon, Olasird'arc seldom spoke of his former life as a mountain lord, but bits and pieces she picked up from him while tending his wounds had teased out something of a story. "I'm very sorry for your loss… I'm sure he died bravely. I'm sure they all did."

Dragons, as she knew of them, did not have the same depth of bonds that humans felt, but in those moments when Olasird'arc spoke of them, she felt sure she heard some bit of contentment in his words. "Think nothing of it, they were… this world devours weakness. The Demon Emperor has the mountain now, if they are lucky, they are dead. If the rest of us are, Jaldabaoth is content with just the mountains."

Neia cleared her throat, "We can only hope… but no, Remedios is an idiot, there's nothing clever about her, but stupidity can be unpredictable. Still, if she doesn't have scouts coming in, then beyond our little 'smoke signals' she's blind. That means she'll follow doctrine and try to probe us." She brought her fingers to her lips and blew a shrill, high whistle.

"Vijar!" She shouted, and the giant sabre-toothed catman emerged from amidst the smoke of the burning town, caught in his light grayish blue fur were chunks of wood and other debris, but no blood. His broad dual headed ax was resting over his shoulder as he swaggered out, his ears twitching while the thunderous noise of a crashing and collapsing building came out behind him.

"My Queen?" He asked, his thick dark lips drew back as his jaw opened, it gave him a peculiar looking 'smile' almost that Neia was sure couldn't have been the same meaning as it would have on a human's face.

"The bitch hasn't chased us yet, so I think she'll send out a group to try to grab us by the tail and give us a tug. Take some of your best, lay an ambush and…" Neia hesitated, 'Get it together… this is necessary… there's nothing different about killing humans than anything else…' She told herself, and then said, "Don't worry about survivors… at least not many." She said, and then explained her intent, leaving the giant catman's tail dancing behind him.

"Your Majesty… I will carry out your will… but…" He reached down and took his tail in hand, "would they really pull this?"

Neia's stern face fell apart into laughter as the catman stroked his long furry tail. "Vijar… just go, and come back alive… if you do encounter Remedios herself, be careful." Neia's face managed a brief moment of seriousness at least, "She is an idiot, but an extremely dangerous idiot."

Vijar gave a slow nod and let go of his tail, "My Queen's will be done." He said, and left them behind.

---------------------------------------------------

Gustav sat in his command tent, or what was 'now' his command tent, formerly belonging to the unfortunate enemy commander. Hours after his victory, he recalled his elation, big smiles, drinks all around from the southern stores of beer, even a feast. Now? Days later? 'My scouts aren't getting anything and the Duke hasn't made any attempt to come and rout me out of his supply lines. What is he thinking?!'

That left a vexed frown on his face and he stared at the map, willing his enemy to appear on it. "Where is he?!" General Gustav Montagnés' voice bellowed out and his fist went up, then down on the table hard enough to splinter a chunk off to spatter down in the mud that coated his feet. Outside, thunder rolled on, 'Rain again… this is the third day in a row… I 'hate' this part of the Kingdom. I swear…' He swept his fist out, opening it just in time to take the mug of beer in hand, it sloshed out, some wetting the cloth map, some landing in the churned up earth, the rest… he guzzled and then wiped his beard with the back of his hand.

'At least no new supplies are making it north, I can be sure of that…' He thought with some satisfaction, taking the fight into the south with the river cutting through Yananna and the fortifications standing defiantly… It rubbed him the wrong way. 'But what can I do… I could take the city but I would lose thousands by doing it…'

He got up and went to the keg, more Southern stuff, outside, soldiers were busy milling about, he could hear the clinking armor, their idle chatter as they went about their duties to prepare for the inevitable fight. The mug filled rapidly when he pressed the lever, the dark amber liquid had a rich smell that had him smacking his lips before he got a second taste. 'The worst part of war is the dying, the second worst part is the food, the third worst part is the waiting, and the only good part is the winning.' He recited the old mantra his mentor once gave to him.

'Crazy old coot.' Gustav grinned a little and raised a mug to the otherwise empty tent, "Here's to you old man, wherever the gods sent you." He drank deeply, dead for at least ten years, the old man's wisdom was useful many times over, having won battles against superior forces more than once by way of cunning and trickery, 'And he was a total card cheat…' Gustav recalled the time he caught the old gaffer hiding a card up his sleeve… only to be undone by the card hidden in the old man's boot.

Gustav put a hand on his belly and laughed before taking a deep drink, and as the beer ran down his throat, he stopped laughing. "The old man would never attack me here… waiting for him… with an inferior force. So… maybe Duke Astraka wouldn't either… then where…?" He cursed his lack of scouts and threw the mug down into muck after draining its contents.

It splashed down and was thoughtlessly kicked away as Gustav hunched over the map again, thunder rolled on outside, and was quickly followed by the noise of a downpour. "Where would I go if I was him… no… I can worry about that later…" Gustav rushed to the flap of the tent and poked his head out, one of the white clad guards that would be recognized as one of his personal escorts whirled around and saluted with a metallic clang of mailed fist against armor.

"Sir!" The soldier snapped out the words, but Gustav barely slowed to return the salute. "Go get all of my senior officers, and tell them to first get their soldiers to pack up, we've got to be ready to move, and quick, there's no time to lose!"

"But sir, the storm!" The soldier shouted over the thunder.

"We're paid to deal with storms, soldier!" Gustav bellowed, "Now go!" Gustav then ducked back into the tent when he was satisfied to see the soldier begin to run, splashing through the rain to convey orders.

With that done, Gustav returned to the map and tried to think of where his enemy might have gone. "Where are you hiding, you clever son of a bitch?" He wondered out loud, and searched the quiet drawing for the answers as if they lay hidden within.