"Mercedes Lackey - Vows and Honor 2 - Oathbreaker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

fifths strength; their ranks were nowhere near as decimated as they might have been under a com-
mander who threw them recklessly at the enemy, rather than using them to their best advantage.
At Midsummer, Lord Leamount’s combined forces had fallen on the Throne City and driven
Lord Kelcrag out. Every move Kelcrag had made since then had been one of retreat. His retreat
had been hard fought, and each acre of ground had been bitterly contested, but it had been an
inexorable series of losses.
But now autumn was half over; he had made a break-and-run, and at this point everyone in Lea-
mount’s armies knew why. He was choosing to make a last stand on ground he had picked.
Both sides knew this next battle would have to bring the war to a conclusion. In winter it would
be impossible to continue any kind of real fight—the best outcome would be stalemate as troops
of both sides floundered through winter storms and prayed that ill-luck and hardship would keep
their ranks from being thinned too much. If Kelcrag retreated to his own lands, he’d come under
seige, and ulti-mately lose if the besieging troops could be sup-plied and rotated. If he fled into
exile, the Queen would have to mount an ever-present vigil against his return—an expensive
proposition. She and Leamount had both wanted to invoke the Mercenary Code ritual of
Oathbreaking and Outcasting on him—but while he was undeniably a rebel, he had actually
broken no vows; nor could Sursha find the requisite triad for the full ceremony of priest, mage
and honest man, all of whom must have suffered personal, irreparable harm at his hands as a
result of violation of sworn oaths. So technically, he could have been seen by some to be the
injured party.
And as for Kelcrag in such a situation, exile would mean impoverishment and hardship,
circumstances he was not ready to face; further, it would bring the uncertainty of when or even if
he could muster enough troops and allies to make a second try.
Kelcrag had chosen his ground with care, Tarma had to give him that. He had shale cliffs
(impossi-ble to scale) to his left, scrub forest and rough, broken ground to his right (keeping
Leamount from charging from that direction); his troops were on the high ground, occupying a
wide pass between the hills, with a gradual rising slope between his army and the loyalists—
It was as close to being an ideal situation for the rebels as Tarma could imagine. There was no
way to come at him except straight on, and no way he could be flanked. And now the autumnal
rains were beginning.
Of all of Idra’s folk, only the scouts had been deployed, seeking (in vain) holes or weaknesses in
Kelcrag’s defenses. For the rest, it had been Set up camp. Dig in, and Wait. Wait for better
weather, better information, better luck.
“Gah—“ Tarma groaned again. “I hope Kelcrag’s as miserable on his damned hill as we are
down here. Anything out of the mages?”
“Mine, or in general?”
“Both.”
“Mine have been too busy fending off nuisance-spells to bother with trying to see what’s going
on across the way. I’ve been setting up wards on the camp, protections on our commanders, and
things like the jesto-vatk on the Healer’s tent. I haven’t heard anything directly from Leamount’s
greater mages, but I’ve got some guesses.”
“Which are?” Tarma stretched, then turned on her side.
“The Great Battle Magics were exhausted early on for both sides in this mess, and none of the
mages have had time to regather power. That leaves the Lesser—which means they’re dueling
like a pair of tired but equally-matched bladesmen. Neither can see what the other is doing;
neither can get anything through that’s more than an annoyance. And neither wants to let down
their guards and their shields enough to recharge in a power circle or open up enough to try one
of the Greater Magics they might have left. So your people will be pretty much left alone except
for physical, material attacks.”
“Well, that’s a blessing, any—“