The Tierran vanguard had been marching south for weeks, and Ishalem was directly ahead. Though weary, the soldiers were well provisioned, and more supply trains would follow as the army camp swelled at the wall. The initial enthusiasm upon leaving Calay—loud fanfares, waving banners, cheers of townspeople, and the easily given promises of young women—had fallen behind them now, and they settled into a routine of travel. As they approached their destination, however, the marching men picked up the pace.
Mateo rode in the lead between Destrar Shenro and Jenirod. Each day put him miles farther from Anjine, but no closer to contentment. He concentrated on his duty; that, at least, was a thing he could hold on to.
At the southern boundary of Tierra, the terrain became scrubby and rocky, the dry air full of dust. The old Pilgrims’ Road was rutted and overgrown because little traffic went to the wall anymore. Though the army was still too far away from God’s Barricade for the enemy to see them, Mateo was sure that outriding Uraban scouts had spotted their arrival. The Curlies would be gathering their defenses, preparing to meet another impulsive Tierran attack…but Queen Anjine had a plan much more ambitious than the Urabans had seen before.
Mateo looked around as he rode, squinting in the bright sun. Not so many months ago, he had come down here to set up a squalid camp for a thousand doomed Urecari prisoners. He told himself over and over that this time it would be different.…
The presters accompanying the troops held their Fishhook banners high. The marching soldiers came to a halt in the late afternoon to set up their last camp, which would be the army’s main base for the next several months. They moved about in a well-practiced flurry of activity, pitching tents, making fire rings, gathering scrub brush, lighting campfires, and digging latrines. Itinerant presters moved from one group to another, offering blessings and sharing the camp food.
Engineers and scouts had ridden into the nearby hills to scavenge trees for the lumber with which to build catapults and siege engines. Supply wagons rolled in, and would continue to do so as more food and material came by boat or by road. Destrar Sazar had set up dropoff points for deliveries along the river routes. This was one of the largest-scale operations Tierra had ever attempted.
Meanwhile, in nearby Ishalem, the followers of Urec would be heading to their sunset church services.
Sooner or later, if Anjine was true to her promise—and she would be—the queen would join the army for the final campaign, after all of her pieces were in place. He longed to see her, and he dreaded seeing her. Every time Mateo thought of Anjine and the love he could no longer hide, he was reminded of Vicka, too. The two of them hadn’t even had a chance.…
But Mateo couldn’t afford to think of either woman right now. Though the actual fight wouldn’t begin for some time yet, defeating the enemy consumed his attention and energy.
As the soldiers set up camp, Destrar Shenro tossed his long brown hair and wandered among his men. After talking to a pair of tired, dusty Alamont riders who had joined the march only that day, Shenro came to Mateo with a gleam in his eye that suggested secrets. “Subcomdar, come with me before the light fades. I have something to show you.”
Mateo was ready to set up his headquarters tent, eat his evening meal (preferably alone, but he knew Jenirod would likely join him), then rest. He generally spent little time among the men at night, avoiding their campfire stories and evening songs. He did not want to dampen the unabashed enthusiasm of the mostly untried soldiers. “Is it important?”
Shenro smiled. “It’ll show you how to take Ishalem and win the war. It’s going to make a great deal of difference to our plans for storming the wall.”
Mateo did not have any immediate plans for storming the wall; their multi-pronged assault was not scheduled for more than two months yet.
Jenirod came up to the officers’ tents just in time to hear the comment. “That’s a bold statement, Destrar. You’ve found a way to bring Ondun back and sweep the enemy from the world?”
“Oh, nothing so extreme—but it should impress even an Eriettan.”
Jenirod raised his eyebrows. “Then it must be impressive indeed.”
Like an excited boy, Shenro led the two men out of the camp and into the grassy hills. The two dusty riders also joined him, each carrying a standard bow slung over his shoulders, as well as a long, thin package wrapped in canvas. The small group trudged through knee-high rustling grasses, circled a hillside, then emerged in a broad meadow studded with gray boulders.
Shenro whispered to the two riders, who answered with confident nods. They laid their long canvas packages on the ground, while Mateo and Jenirod exchanged curious looks.
Like a showmaster beginning a performance, Shenro placed his hands on his narrow hips. “These fellows are skilled archers from Bora’s Bastion. Everyone knows that Alamont archers are the finest in the Tierran military.” The destrar scanned the meadow, then pointed to a clump of lichen-spattered rocks overgrown with grasses. “You see those boulders? Would you agree that’s about the typical range of a bow shot?”
When he was younger, Mateo had trained under Destrar Shenro and practiced for many months shooting arrows out on the Alamont prairies. “A bit far, but I could probably make that shot, depending on the wind.” He didn’t see why the man was so excited.
“These two men will demonstrate.” Shenro rubbed his palms together. “And then we’ll move to the interesting part.”
Each rider removed his traditional bow, drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and pulled back the string. Without taking careful aim, they loosed their shots. Mateo shaded his eyes in the low light. The arrows flew upward, then plunged down to clatter on the target rocks.
“I’ve seen Alamont archers many times,” Mateo said. “This is nothing new.”
Unable to restrain either his smile or his excitement, Shenro motioned for the men to unroll the canvas packages, each of which contained a new longbow made of laminated strips of hardwood, curved and then recurved.
Mateo bent forward to inspect them. “I’ve never seen a bow like this before.”
“It’s a new design we developed in Alamont, a carefully guarded secret. Anyone who saw or worked on the project was held in closed quarters and remains under house arrest.”
Jenirod was startled. “House arrest? Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
“As security, not punishment. Too many ra’virs have already harmed us, and we dare not let the enemy discover these new bows. You’ll see why.”
When the two riders took up the new longbows, stringing them required all of their strength. With their odd, doubly curved profiles, the bows stood nearly as tall as the strong men who carried them. Once strung, they thrummed with energy.
“Now watch,” Shenro said, his eyes gleaming. “Men, please impress my guests.”
Without saying a word, the archers each nocked an arrow and drew the string back, straining as they did so, then released. The arrows soared out, flying high—and kept going. The shafts had barely begun their downward arc by the time they passed the target boulders. The arrows dwindled in the distance and landed well past the rocks at the far edge of the prairie. They went so far Mateo could barely see where they struck.
“That’s twice the range of a normal bow!” Jenirod exclaimed.
Shenro was smug and happy. “Now you see why we can’t let ra’virs discover these? My archers are well practiced, and can hit a target so far away you can barely see it. Won’t that be a nice surprise to spring on the enemy at the wall?”
“Yes, it will,” Mateo said. “We’ll have to factor this into our plans. How many of those bows do you have?”
“I’ve had craftsmen working without rest for the past month, ever since we tested and proved the new bow design. These men just came from Bora’s Bastion with their report. A hundred specially trained archers with a hundred new longbows will join us in camp within the next week or so.”
Even Jenirod was pleased. “And you’ve kept it a secret all this time?”
“I didn’t want the men to travel with the rest of the army. There’s always the chance that someone might talk.”
Shenro told his men to unstring the bows and wrap them in the canvas before anyone could see. In the deepening dusk, no hidden observer could have made out the details anyway. “Ah, Subcomdar, I tell you this is going to be a glorious campaign.”
“I hope you’re right.” They returned to camp. Tomorrow, the Tierran military would begin the siege of Ishalem.