The Battle for Skandia- Character Reaction

22

"Here." The book was passed along to Stefan, who grinned as he took the book.

THE SKANDIAN WAR COUNCIL WAS MEETING IN THE GREAT Hall. Will sat to one side, listening as Halt addressed the Skandian leader and his principal advisers. Borsa, Erak and two other senior jarls, Lorak and Ulfak, flanked the Oberjarl as they clustered around the table where Halt had spread an immense map of Skandia. The Ranger tapped a spot on the map with the point of his saxe knife.

"As of last night," he said, "the Temujai were here. Maybe sixty kilometers away from Hallasholm. The delaying raids are having exactly the sort of effect we wanted. The advance has gone from thirty kilometers a day to less than twelve."

"Joy for us," Will said moodily. Horace glanced over at him.

"At least they didn't come any sooner."

"Shouldn't cavalry move faster than that?" asked Ulfak. Halt perched one leg on the bench beside the table and shook his head.

"They'll move fast enough when they're fighting," he told them. "But right now, they're conserving their horses' strength, letting them feed and move easily. Besides, now that we've reinforced Olgak's men with another half dozen raiding groups, it's taking them half the day to simply form up, then set up camp again in the evening."
He glanced up at Erak as he added: "Your idea of sending a few wolfships to raid their seaward flank was a good one."

"Surprisingly," Halt couldn't help but add. Erak rolled his eyes, and Pauline sent him a warning look. Still, he thought, it was worth it.

The jarl nodded. "It seemed logical," he replied. "It's what we're good at, after all." The Araluens laughed.

Ragnak thumped one massive fist on the pine planks that formed the table. "Raids and skirmishes, nuisance attacks! They achieve nothing! It's time we hit them with our main force and settle this once and for all," he declared, and three of his council growled agreement.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said he was smart."

Halt shrugged. "A relative term."

"There'll be plenty of time for that," Halt cautioned. "The most important thing is to engage them in a place that suits us—one that we choose ourselves."

Halt exchanged a glance with Will. "Like with the Toscans," his former apprentice said.

Again, the Oberjarl snarled. He knew he'd agreed to listen to Halt's advice. But these damned invaders had been flaunting themselves in his country now for several weeks. It was an affront to him and to every Skandian and he wanted to wipe the affront out, or die in the attempt. "Oh, he'd be sure to do that if he went ahead," Halt said flatly. "What's the difference where we fight them?" he said. "A fight is a fight. We win or we lose. But if we do lose, we'll take plenty of them with us!"

"You may not care about your land, but I do," Halt said. Crowley grinned.

"You care about us? I'm melting, Halt."

"There are a few exceptions."

Halt removed his foot from the bench and stood straight, ramming the saxe knife back into its scabbard.

"Oh, don't worry," he said icily. "There's every chance that we'll lose. But let's make sure we take as many of them with us as possible, shall we?" The Skandians, used to bluster and boasting, were taken aback by his cold assessment of their chances for survival—as he had intended them to be. Halt smirked.

"They're cavalry," he continued. "They outnumber us at least four to one. They can outmaneuver us, outrun us. And they'll look for the widest possible front to engage us on. That way, all the advantages are with them. They'll flank us, surround us and draw us out if they can." He saw that he had their attention. They weren't happy about the situation, but at least they were prepared to listen.