Chapter 9: The Final Analysis

Claire awoke because bugles were ringing around Fort South. She stood and made her way out of her alcove and saw her father getting his sword buckled. The huge Corean sergeant appeared. "No, sir," the sergeant's voice sounded like a hammer had hit an anvil. "You will stay here."

"I have to go out."

"No, sir, you don't," the sergeant repeated. "You stay there, I will have a runner keep you informed."

As if by magic a runner appeared. "Hoi! There are large columns of dust to the north! The colonel's ordered the post to prepare to resist a general assault!"

"It's not the Harn," Claire's father said. "They'd never make dust."

"There are two dust columns, about ten miles apart. The Harn and someone else," the runner told him. Then he turned and sprinted away.

"That has to be Leeland," Claire's father whispered to himself, "from Winslow. The good news -- the Harn must have taken the town, but word will get back north much faster." Claire nodded. "Bad news -- help is now two or three months further away." She looked at him, shocked.

"It's hard to take things back. You have to be careful," he explained.

A few minutes later Captain Taylor came in. "We're going out," he said without any ado. "We just got a galloper in. Winslow's been taken; the survivors are just about done in. They are done for, unless we lend a hand. Colonel Randall says everyone except your regiment." For a moment, he looked Claire's father in the eye. "Mine, for the day. I get to stay behind, too. Everyone else goes."

Claire's father looked at the young officer, then away. "I suppose it would be futile to say I can help."

"You can help, sir. Please, take command of the Citadel. Colonel Randall left me with my best company, they're yours." He waved at Hoi. "Hoi's going to be under your command. Be careful."

Her father nodded and Richard Taylor was gone. But not far, Claire thought, not far.

Hoi saw something in Claire's expression. "Captain Taylor said, Miss," Claire looked at him, "that if you try to leave this room, I was to tie you tightly to a chair."

Claire lifted her chin and Sergeant Hoi laughed. "I never obey stupid orders, Miss Story! Never! Come, let's go up on the roof!"

There wasn't much for the three of them to see. The troops had already formed up and left; the walls were lined with those who stayed behind. Out in the desert there was now only one obvious plume of dust; the further plume was dying away.

"The Harn have given it up," Claire's father stated the obvious. "At least, in the short term."

Shortly, the gates opened again, as they had for her father and Colonel Danna's men before them. Soldiers began to filter in; they looked tired, more than just a little.

Then wagons and them more wagons ... three or four hundred wagons, Claire thought. More and more soldiers, now some of them from Fort South's garrison. Finally, the gates began to close, and Colonel Randall rode in, his troops triply alert. The gates creaked shut and for a moment there was silence.

Quite suddenly a voice lifted over the entire fort. "For those we left behind! Hip! Hip!" More than a thousand voices yelled "Hooray!" The same voice responded, "Those we left behind are dead! I want them to hear you! Hip! Hip!" The "Hooray" the second time was loud enough, Claire thought, to wake the dead. "Louder!" the voice was a scream, "Hip! Hip!" This time the "Hooray" was loud enough to echo off the nearer hills, ten miles away.

A few minutes later another runner appeared on the roof. "Colonel Randall's compliments. Will the officers and the lady report to him, forthwith."

They all went downstairs, two men helping her father, who grumped and sulked the entire time. When they got down, they found Colonel Randall with a half dozen officers, facing a lieutenant, two sergeants and four civilians.

"Colonel Story, Major Taylor, Miss Story. May I present Captain John Hoth, late of Winslow." The colonel named the others; everyone nodded politely at the newcomers. "Winslow came under attack," Colonel Randall told them, "Captain Hoth, your report."

Everyone was ignoring that the young man who faced them had only two pips on his collar, not the three of his stated rank.

"I have eight hundred civilians, and six hundred troopers. About five thousand horses and four hundred wagons. Regrettably, Colonel, I could not get away with much in the line of military stores. I did see that what we left was destroyed before we left. I did bring nearly eight hundred tons of food and fodder, though. Most of it food. Seven parts of eight."

Colonel Randall nodded. "In case anyone is unclear about the numbers; Captain Hoth brought himself, his men and the survivors from Winslow. Along with enough food to keep everyone in this garrison alive for another eight months. At full rations." His grin was sardonic. "At sixty per cent, enough to keep us going until next fall, at least. We may just..."

From outside trumpets began to blow the alarm; the colonel hesitated for a second. "To your posts," he commanded quietly, "God bless us all."

The young officer from Winslow spoke softly. "Me and mine, where do you want us, Colonel?"

"The soldiers can join us on the walls; we'll direct them." Colonel Randall shook his head. "The civilians -- there are too many to get inside the Citadel; there's barely room for the women and children of the garrison."

"Maybe half of the civilians will fight, Colonel," Captain Hoth explained. "Put them around the Citadel, maybe use them as a reserve to hit a wall breach."

The colonel's eyes glittered hard. He wasn't angry, Claire thought, at least not angry with Captain Hoth. "Very good! See to it, Captain Hoth! Those are your people, inform me of your dispositions."

It was a hot day; the air lay still and stagnant. For those in the Citadel, it was hard, very hard. Time passed slowly and nothing happened. Much later in the day, more trumpets from outside, then a long period of silence.

A runner came into the headquarters, looked around, and then came to Claire. "Colonel's compliments, Miss Story. Please report to him at the main gate."

"And the reason?" Claire's father growled.

The runner met her father's eyes. "That was the message I was given, sir. The Harn want a parley."

"And Colonel Randall wants my daughter there?"

"Yes, sir. Major Taylor and Captain Hoth, too."

Claire was surprised to see her father grin. "Well, well, well! The Harn aren't invincible! And their source of information has gone adrift!" He smiled at the corporal. "That alone is nice to know." He turned to Claire. "Say as little as you can; forget you're my daughter," he advised. "Follow Richard's lead."

Claire glanced at her father, not a little surprised.

Claire followed the runner out of the citadel, towards the main gate. Colonel Randall was waiting with the other senior officers. He smiled at Claire. "This is almost as safe as church."

"Almost," Richard Taylor said, then spat on the ground.

Colonel Randall's glare silenced him, then the colonel waved at a guard, and a postern was opened in the main gate. They walked out, three men and a woman. They walked a hundred yards down the road and stopped.

Claire had been looking around; she saw it almost as if it was a dream. A man stepped from behind a bush, a bush that shouldn't rationally have hidden him. And just as obviously, had. He stalked forward, stopping a few feet from Colonel Randall.

Then, two more Harn appeared from behind the same bush.

"You brought the devil woman!" The Harn shook his finger, waving at Claire. "My priest said you would never do such a thing." He sketched a bow in Claire's direction. "He said you would never risk the devil woman."

"Risk?" Richard Taylor said quietly, "Anything that happens to her happens to you less than a second later."

"I am one among many," the Harn chieftain replied with a nasty grin.

Colonel Randall laughed harshly. "Yes, which is why you have three silver bands in your ear."

Richard Taylor motioned towards the other two men. "And you are of the Eagle Totem; perhaps the Eagles have fallen on hard times and no longer lead."

There was silence for a long moment, and then the Harn leader spoke. "We will allow you to pass from this place. All of you, as well as everything you wish to take. Destroy this place if you wish, before you depart."

"And the Harn famously keep their word to such as us," Colonel Randall said, his voice hard as flint.

"Myself and my priest will accompany you. Some of your people will accompany my people; they can send how far away my soldiers are. You will have time to go anywhere you wish to go." He paused, "Even now, your King sends troops."

"Then we will just stay here," Colonel Randall said.

"And we will hinder their advance. And in a few days, everyone in these walls will be dead. One way or another, within a week, this place will be destroyed."

"And there will not be nearly as many Harn then as there are today," the colonel replied.

The chieftain shrugged. "What will be, will be. You, however, will certainly be dead if you choose to fight." He paused and pointed north. "You have my word, my promise; I swear it on the bones and blood of my ancestors."

Colonel Randall sniffed. "You told us help was coming. Either you were lying, don't know, or were telling the truth. You know my orders: hold until relieved. As so I shall. So, then, why tell us succor is on the way? So that we would stay. So you can kill us all, anyway."

The man shrugged. "You!" He motioned at Claire. "Give me your hand!"

The responses were instantaneous.

The colonel barked, "Don't!"

And Richard Taylor said, "Do it!"

John Hoth shrugged, helpless.

Claire took a step forward, watching the man. "You are afraid of me," she said, not asking a question.

"Others fear you," the Harn replied, "I follow my own counsel." He held out his own hand, then in his other, held out a knife, hilt first, to Claire. "Please."

Claire took the blade, glancing at it. "I have another, similar," she told him, and she handed him the knife she'd taken from the intruder and that Sergeant Hoi had returned to her after Colonel Randall took it. The Harn took the knife from her hand, without a word. He slashed the palm of his hand with it, and then motioned for Claire to do the same with the knife he'd given her.

She drew his knife across her palm, careful of the tendons. The other tossed her knife back at her feet, and gestured for Claire to do the same to him. Then he held out his hand, obviously wanting to shake bloody hands. Claire took his, and for a moment their eyes locked. "You are the blood of my blood," the Harn leader told her. "None of my people may deny your path, or those with you."

Then he turned and walked out into the desert. As he had appeared, so he disappeared as had the Harn in the fort late at night. After a few steps, they simply vanished into the gathering gloom of the evening.

The four of them were silent as they returned to Fort South. "I'd like to say that was a positive negotiation," Colonel Randall said wistfully, "but I'm not sure."

Major Taylor shrugged. "I think they want us to quit. Like Colonel Story said, it's much harder to take something back, once you've given it up. Still, we're going to have to think on it."

For Claire, of course, there had never been any doubt. She thought and thought; she explained it to her father, with Hoi listening as well. "What do you think we should do?" she asked.

"Be careful of that cut," Hoi responded pragmatically. "You have no idea whose blood that bastard washed his knife in." Claire's father grunted; more importantly, he didn't disagree.

Claire turned to him. "Father?"

He shrugged. "The temptation is to cling to hope, any hope, is an awful thing. It would be very easy to agree. It's true, sometimes the Harn honor these sorts of terms. Other times, they don't."

The cut on her hand ached and itched alternately, all night long; Claire hardly slept at all. Just before dawn she gave it up and went up on the roof. Hoi was there, watching the grounds of the fort intently, a half drawn bow in his hands. He glanced at her, and went back to a minute perusal of the fort's interior.

Light showed in the east, another day. What was this day going to bring? Claire sighed, she felt she was tired enough to sleep regardless. She was contemplating going down to her bed when a shout went up from the front gate.

If nothing else, Claire had learned that they were very efficient now, in keeping her from going to see what was going on; perforce she choose not to let them do it again. There were a lot of shouted commands, after a bit, Claire saw Colonel Randall, Major Taylor and Captain Hoth ascend the steps to the wall by the front gate.

It took a while before they came down; Claire could see the three stop and parley at the foot of the stairs. She couldn't be sure what was decided. Except that Colonel Randall walked back up, while the other two ran. Major Taylor for Headquarters, Captain Hoth for the tents of his troops.

No shouts, just quiet orders. Hoi was beside her then, looking. "They are rousing the camp," he told her, concern heavy in his voice. Claire could only nod. It wasn't looking good for sleep this morning, she thought to herself.

"Downstairs, Miss Story!" Sergeant Hoi commanded, and Claire did as bade. A few minutes later she saw a runner conferring with her father, who turned to his two captains, gave them orders. Both men vanished at a run. Claire lifted her chin, and walked to her father.

He nodded to her; the lack of a smile or a kind word spoke volumes. "What?" Claire asked.

"The Harn left a greeting card, over night." He sighed, touched her cheek. "It was the heads of the three Harn you talked with yesterday. Pretty damn stupid, because it almost certainly means they are going to go all out, first thing this morning. A major attack. They've lost all surprise."

A bugle sounded; then arrows suddenly darkened the sky, landing everywhere outside. "Hoi!" Claire said, startled, rushed up the stairs. The sergeant was on his way down, a long Harn arrow in the fleshy part of the arm.

"Piece of cake, miss." He laughed and waved the arrow. "Cut the head, the feathers, then a simple straight pull." Her father moved to help and Claire angrily waved him away. She did the knife cuts, swiftly and deftly; Hoi pulled out the six inch spindle of wood.

"I'd dearly like to know where they find the wood for arrows in the desert," Hoi mused. One of the privates started wrapping a bandage around Hoi's arm.

Claire only then became aware of the fact that her father was gone. She went to find him, and eventually found him with Major Taylor.

"They are coming from all sides, a full press," Richard told her father. "So far, we've stopped them, but we're getting thinner and they are very numerous."

"You're bleeding them?" her father asked.

"And they are bleeding us," Richard responded. "It's really dangerous out there, arrows coming in all directions, four or five a second. Right now, we're doing okay. In an hour..."

Claire saw her father nod. An hour? What did he mean?

Her father came back to Claire. "Get everyone you can down into the cellars. Anyone who wants to fight, they should stay upstairs. It will be soon."

"Soon?" Claire asked, stunned.

"Soon they'll be fighting," her father said simply. "Be sure they understand."

Here? In the middle of Fort South, with all of the thousands of defenders? Colonel Randall? Her father? Major Taylor? Captain Hoth? All of them? How could that be possible?

Claire went inside the main room; people were alert, obviously frightened.

She drew herself up, trying to keep her voice calm. "The children, the women with young children, please go into the cellars now. Those that wish should avail themselves of weapons, available from Major Taylor's sergeant."

There was silence in the room; a few sniffles of tears. The younger ones started being herded downstairs, a few of the mothers and more of the older boys queued up for weapons.