Belisarius - Destiny's Shield Part 53

Another interjected, "We must get the flanking column upriver as fast as possible. So that they can ford the Euphrates before Belisarius can block their way. That requires cavalry, Great Lady Holi."

"BE SILENT. I UNDERSTAND YOUR ARGU-MENT. BUT THERE IS A POSSIBILITY, IF BELISARIUS IS CUNNING ENOUGH. I CANNOT TAKE THE CHANCE. THE YE-TAI, AFTER THEY CROSS, CAN RACE UPRIVER TO SEIZE A BRIDGEHEAD. THE REGULAR CAVALRY, FOLLOWING, CAN BRING THE KUSHANS' HORSES WITH THEM. THEY SHOULD STILL BE ABLE TO REACH THE YE-TAI IN TIME TO HOLD THE CROSSING.".

The officers submitted, of course. But one of them, bolder than the rest, made a last protest: "It will take the Kushans so much time, if they cross the river on foot."

"THAT IS PRECISELY THE POINT.

"NOW, DO AS I COMMAND.".

All opposition fled. The officers hastened from the pavilion, spreading the command throughout the great army encamped below the dam.

Alone in its pavilion, Link continued to calculate. Gauge. a.n.a.lyze.

Its thoughts were confident. Link was guided not simply by its own incredible intellect, but also by intelligence-in the military sense of the term. Roman prisoners had been taken, here and there, in the days of fighting. Interrogated. Those of them with personal knowledge of Belisarius had been questioned under torture, until Link was satisfied that it had squeezed every last item necessary to fully a.s.sess the capabilities of its enemy.

It would have done better, had it been in Link's power, to have interrogated a Persian survivor of the battle of Mindouos. The man named Baresmanas.

But, perhaps not. Link would not have asked the right questions. And Baresmanas would certainly not have volunteered the information, not even under the knife.

But he could have. He could have. He could have warned the Malwa superbeing that mercy can have its own sharp point. Keener than any lance or blade; and even deadlier to the foe.

Chapter 37.

"Finally," hissed Belisarius.

The general was practically dancing with impatience, waiting for his horse to be brought up to the artillery tower where he had made his headquarters for the past week.

He was already in full armor. He had begun donning the gear the moment he heard the first katyusha volleys. As he had predicted, the Malwa were attempting to cross the Nehar Malka on a pontoon bridge. He was convinced that the maneuver was a feint, but, like all well-executed diversions, it carried real substance behind it. Thousands of Malwa troops were involved in the crossing, supported by most of their rocket troughs. By now, an hour into the battle, the scene to the east was a flashing cacophony. Katyusha rockets crossed trails with Malwa missiles. The Syrian soldiers on the rockpile added their own volleys of fire-arrows, aimed at the boats on the ca.n.a.l. The Nehar Malka was lit up by those flaming ships.

In the darkness ahead, he could make out the looming shape of his horse. Maurice, he realized, was the man holding it.

"How long ago?" were his first words.

He could barely make out Maurice's shrug.

"Who's to know? The Persians are being d.a.m.ned quiet. Much quieter than I would have expected, from a lot of headstrong dehgans. But Abbu's scouts report that they've already moved out at least half of their forces. Due west, into the desert."

Sourly: "Just as you predicted."

Belisarius nodded. "We've some time, then. Is Abbu-"

Maurice snorted. "Be serious! Of course he's in pos-ition. The old Arab goat's even twitchier than you are."

As Anastasius heaved him into the saddle, Belisarius grunted. "I am not twitchy. Simply eager to close with the foe."

" 'Close with the foe,' " mimicked Maurice, clambering onto his own mount. "My, aren't we flowery tonight?"

Securely in his saddle, Belisarius grinned. It was obvious that the prospect of action-finally!-had completely restored his spirits.

"Let's to it, Maurice. I do believe the time has come to reacquaint the Malwa with the First Law of Battle."

He tugged on the reins, turning his horse.

"The enemy has arrived. And I intend to f.u.c.k them up completely."

"What?" he demanded.

Maurice took a breath. "You heard me. Abbu's courier reports that they're sending the Kushans across first. On foot, all of them. They even dismounted the Kushan cavalry. They've got their Ye-tai battalions ma.s.sed on the bank, mounted, but they aren't crossing yet. Behind them, Abbu thinks they're forming up kshatriya and Malwa regulars, but he's not sure. He can't get close enough."

Belisarius turned and stared into the darkness, raising himself up in the stirrups in order to peer over the wall. He was on the road at the eastern end of the dam, just behind the front fortifications. For a moment, he plucked at his telescope, but left off the motion almost as soon as it started. He already knew that the device was no help. It was a moonless night, and the Malwa crossing the almost-empty riverbed were a mile south of the dam. He could see nothing, not even with his Aide-enhanced vision.

"Kushans first, and without horses," he murmured. "That makes no sense at all."

He scratched his chin. "Unless-"

"Unless what?" hissed Maurice.

Scratched his chin. "Unless that thing is even smarter than I thought."

Maurice shook his head. "Stop being so d.a.m.n clever! Maybe they want to make sure they don't make any noise crossing the Euphrates. Kushans on foot will be as silent as any army could be."

Belisarius nodded, slowly.

"That's possible. It's even possible that they made arrangements with Ormazd to have horses left for them. Still-"

A little noise drew their attention. An Arab courier was trotting toward them from the western end of the dam.

"Abbu says now!" the scout exclaimed, as soon as he drew up. "Almost all the Kushans are in the riverbed. At least eight thousand of them. Probably all of them, by now. Their first skirmishers will have already reached the opposite bank."

Belisarius scratched his chin.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l!" snarled Maurice. "What are you waiting for? We can't let those men cross, general! After all our casualties, we don't have much better than eight thousand left ourselves. Once they get on dry land-on the south bank-they can ford upstream any one of a dozen places. We'll have to face them on-"

"Enough, Maurice." The chiliarch clamped shut his jaws.

Scratched the chin.

The general thought; gauged; calculated; a.s.sessed.

The man decided.

His crooked smile came. He said, very firmly: "Let the Kushans cross. All of them."

To the scout: "Tell Abbu to send up the rocket when the Ye-tai are almost across. And tell that old maniac to make sure he's clear first. Do you understand? I want him clear!"

The Arab grinned. "He will be clear, general. By a hair, of course. But he will be clear."

An instant later, the man was gone.

Belisarius turned back to Maurice. The grizzled veteran was glaring at him.

"Look at it this way," Belisarius said pleasantly. "I've just given you what you treasure most. Something else to be morose about."

Glaring furiously. To one side, Valentinian muttered: "Oh, great. Just what we needed. Eight thousand Kushans to deal with."

Belisarius ignored both the glare and the mutter. He began to scratch his chin, but stopped. He had made his decision, and would stick with it.

It was a bad decision, perhaps. It might even, in the end, prove to be disastrous. But he thought of men who liked to gamble, when they had nothing to gamble with except humor. And he remembered, most of all, a man with an iron face. A hard man who had, in two lives and two futures, made the same soft decision. A decision which, Belisarius knew, that man would always make, in every life and every future.

He relaxed, then. Confident, not in his decision, but in his soul.

"Let them pa.s.s," he murmured. "Let them pa.s.s."

He c.o.c.ked his head, slightly. "Basil's ready?"

"Be serious," growled Maurice.

Belisarius smiled. A minute later, he c.o.c.ked his head again. "Everyone's clear?" he asked.

"Be serious," growled Maurice.

"Everybody except us," hissed Valentinian. "We're the only ones left. The last Syrians cleared off five minutes ago."

"Let's be off, then," said Belisarius cheerfully.

As he and his three cataphracts walked their horses off the dam-moving carefully, in the dark-Belisarius began softly reciting verses.

The men with him did not recognize the poem. There was no way they could have. Aide had just given it to him, from the future. That future which Belisarius would shield, from men who thought themselves G.o.ds.

Those masterful images because complete Grew in pure mind but out of what began?

I must lie down where all the ladders start In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.

Chapter 38.

The moment the signal rocket exploded, Link knew.

Its four top officers, standing nearby on the platform of the command tower overlooking the river, were simply puzzled. The rocket, after bursting, continued to burn like a flare as it sailed down onto the ma.s.s of soldiers struggling their way across the bed of the Euphrates. Ye-tai, in the main, swearing softly as they tried to guide their horses in the darkness through a mora.s.s of streamlets and mucky sinkholes. But there were at least five thousand Malwa regulars, also, including a train of rocket-carts and the kshatriya to man them.

The flare burned. The officers stared, and puzzled.

But Link knew at once. Understood how completely it had been outwitted, although it did not-then or ever-understand how Belisarius had done it.

But the being from the future was not given to cursing or useless self-reproach. It recognized only necessity. It did not even wait for the first thundering sound of the explosions to give the order to its a.s.sa.s.sins.

Across the entire length of the dam blocking the Euphrates, the charges erupted. Almost in slow motion, the boulder-laden ships which formed the base of the dam heaved up. The sound of the eruption was huge, but m.u.f.fled. And there was almost no flash given off. The charges, for all their immensity, had been deeply buried. Even Link, with its superhuman vision, could barely see the disaster, in the faint light still thrown off by the signal flare.

The officers saw nothing. Then, or ever. The first a.s.sa.s.sin's knife plunged into the back of the first officer, severing his spinal cord. A split second later, the other three died with him. Still staring at the rocket. Still puzzled.

Link had failed, but its failure would remain hidden. Its reputation was essential to the Malwa cause, and the cause of the new G.o.ds who had created Malwa. The officers would take the blame.

The ma.s.s of soldiers in the bed of the Euphrates-perhaps fourteen thousand, in all-froze at the sound. Turned, stared into the darkness. Puzzled. The night was dark, and the dam was a mile away. They, too, could see nothing. But the noise was ominous.

Then the first breeze came, and the smartest of the trapped soldiers understood. Shrieking, cursing-even sabring the slower-witted men who barred their way-they made a desperate attempt to scramble their horses out of the riverbed.

The rest- The wall of water which smote the Malwa army came like a mace, wielded by a G.o.d. Untold tons of hurtling water, carrying great boulders as if they were chips of wood. Smashing in the sides of the old riverbed, gouging channels as it came, ripping new stones to join the old.

By the time the torrent struck, all of the doomed men in that riverbed understood. The sound was no longer a distant thunder. It was a howling banshee. Shiva's shriek. Kali's scream of triumph.

All of them, now, were fighting to get out. Their horses, panicked as much by the terror in their riders' voices as the thunder coming from the north, were scuttling through the mud, skittering past the reeds, falling into sinkholes, trampling each other under.

But it was hopeless. Some of the Malwa soldiers-less than a thousand-were far enough from the riverbed's center to reach the banks. Others, caught by the edges of the tidal wave, were able to save their lives by clinging to reeds, or boulders, or ropes thrown by their comrades ash.o.r.e.

A few-a very, very small few-even survived the flood. A gigantic, turbulent ma.s.s of water such as the one which hammered its way down the riverbed is an odd thing. Fickle, at times. Weird, in its workings.

The Euphrates, restored to its rightful place, raged and raged and raged. But, here and there, it took pity. One soldier, to his everlasting amazement, found himself carried-gently, gently-to the riverbank. Another, too terrified to be amazed, was simply tossed ash.o.r.e.

And one Malwa soldier, hours later and fifty miles downriver, waded out of the reeds. The Euphrates had nestled him in a bizarre and permanent little eddy-like a chick cupped in a man's hand-and carried him through the night. A simple man, he was-simple-minded, his unkind former comrades had often called him-but no fool. It was noted, thereafter, that the previously profane fellow had become deeply religious. Particularly devoted, it seemed, to river G.o.ds.

But for the overwhelming majority of the Ye-tai and Malwa regulars caught in Belisarius' trap, death came almost instantly. They did not even drown, most of them. They were simply battered to death.

Twelve thousand, one hundred and forty-three men. Dead within a minute. Another nine hundred and six, crippled and badly wounded. Most of those would die within a week.

Ten thousand and eighty-nine horses, dead. Two thousand, two hundred and seventy-eight camels, dead. Thirty-four rocket carts, pulverized. Almost half of the expedition's gunpowder weapons, destroyed.

It was the worst military disaster in Malwa's history.

And Link knew it. The superbeing was already examining its options, before the wall of water had taken a single life. Throughout the horror which followed, the creature named Great Lady Holi sat motionless upon its throne. Utterly indifferent to the carnage-those dying men and animals were simply facts-it went about its business.

Calculating. Gauging. a.s.sessing.

The officers would take the blame. Link would take the credit for salvaging what could be salvaged.