Rulers of the Darkness

"It won't make a counterfeit copper's worth of difference," Ceorl said. "Swemmel's boys will just kill as many of their own people as they need to, to even things out. Haven't we already seen that?"

"Maybe they'll come up with some other kind of magecraft, then. I don't know," Sidroc said. "What I do know is, one Algarvian is worth two or three Unkerlanters. We've seen that plenty of times. Powers above, one of us is worth two or three of Swemmel's men, too."

"Of course we are," Ceorl said- had he said anything else, he would have had Werferth arguing with him again, too. "Trouble is, one of us is worth two or three Unkerlanters, and then that fourth or fifth Unkerlanter ups and kicks us in the balls. We've seen that plenty of times, too- tell me we haven't."

Sidroc grunted. He couldn't tell Ceorl any such thing, and he knew it. He gave the best comeback he could: "They've got to run out of soldiers sooner or later."

"Sooner would be better," Sergeant Werferth said.

Neither Ceorl nor Sidroc wanted to quarrel with that. Not far away, a sentry called out a challenge in Algarvian. All three men by the fire grabbed for their sticks, not that those had been very far away. The answer came back in Algarvian, too. Neither Sidroc, Werferth, nor Ceorl relaxed. For one thing, the Unkerlanters sometimes found soldiers who could speak the language of their enemies. For another, Algarvians who didn't know the men of Plegmund's Brigade went right on taking them for Unkerlanters.

Not this time, though, not even when the sentry let out a happy yelp in Forthwegian- "Behemoths!" -that the redheads could easily have taken for Unkerlanter. Sidroc and his comrades exclaimed in delight. Behemoths with Algarvians aboard them had been too rare since so many died trying to smash their way through the Durrwangen bulge.

"I wonder who's going short so the beasts can come here," Werferth said.

"I don't, Sergeant," Sidroc answered. "I don't even care. All I know is, for once we're not going to go short."

"That's right, by the powers above," Ceorl said. Not for the first time, having Ceorl agree with him made Sidroc wonder if he was wrong.

On snowshoes, the behemoths' strides were surprisingly quiet. The white surcoats the beasts wore- the equivalent of the soldiers' snow smocks- helped muffle the clank and clatter of their chainmail. But they drew the men of Plegmund's Brigade and their Algarvian officers just the same.

And the Algarvians who crewed the behemoths retained the cheerful arrogance of earlier days. They waved to the Forthwegians as if to younger brothers. "You boys come along with us," one of them called, "and we'll do a proper job of smashing up the Unkerlanters."

"That's right," said a redhead on a different behemoth. "They haven't got a chance of standing up against us once we get rolling. You know that."

Sidroc knew nothing of the sort. What he knew was that, had the war been going just the way the Algarvians wanted, Plegmund's Brigade would never have come to the front line at all. It would have stayed in Grelz hunting irregulars, as it had started out doing. Well, now it was back in Grelz after a year and more of some of the most desperate fighting in the war, and it was facing the full weight of King Swemmel's army.

But, and especially after Ceorl's gloom, that Algarvian good cheer hit Sidroc like a strong slug of spirits. Mezentio's men had gone forward against the Unkerlanters. Why shouldn't they go forward against them again?

Algarvian footsoldiers came up with the behemoths. Some of them- new men, by their trim uniforms and unhaggard faces- gave the troopers of Plegmund's Brigade suspicious stares. "Are these fellows really on our side?" one of them asked, as if the bearded men in long tunics couldn't possibly be expected to understand his language.

"Aye, we are," Sidroc said. "And we'll stay that way as long as you don't ask idiot questions like that." The redhead glared at him. Sidroc was no older, but he'd seen things the Algarvian hadn't yet imagined. He looked through the newcomer as if he didn't exist. A couple of Mezentio's veterans talked to their countryman and calmed him down.

Somewhere not far away, the Algarvians had gathered together a good many egg-tossers, too. They all started flinging death at the Unkerlanters at once. "They'd never lay on so much just for us," Ceorl grumbled. "Put their own people into the fight, though, and they care a lot more."

That was probably true. Sidroc shook his head. No, that was certainly true. "Nothing we can do about it but make the most of it now," he said.

Whistles shrilled. The Algarvian behemoths lumbered forward, straight through the hole the egg-tossers had torn in the Unkerlanter line. Footsoldiers- Algarvians and the men of Plegmund's Brigade together- accompanied the behemoths.