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Chapter 279: Battle Lineup

Iron Axe saluted and left.

Nightingale stepped out from behind the lord’s seat.

“Do you have to go personally?”

“Who else would put Lotus’s ability to proper use?” Roland said. He picked up his papers. “I’m not a tactician. But I know how to use earthworks to seal a channel, and I know how to position artillery to create a killing ground. Those are the skills that win this engagement.”

“You mentioned bunkers. What is a tank?”

“A carriage that transports and aims a cannon.” He coughed. “We don’t have enough horses for it to work as intended, so we’ll use Little Town for transport. Technically that makes it not a tank. The concept still applies.”

“Is that why you chose Honey?” Nightingale tilted her head. “She can tame tigers and panthers as easily as horses. If your tanks are just cannons pulled by large animals—”

“The different models would be named Tiger and Panther.” He let himself smile at the absurdity of it.

Carter entered carrying a white-tailed kite, the bird’s wings folded against his forearms. “Your Highness. A message from Border Town.”

Roland held out his hand and the kite spread its wings and crossed the short distance, landing solidly on his shoulder. He produced a strip of jerky from his coat pocket and let the bird take it, then freed the message cloth from its raised claw.

These kites were Honey’s trained messengers — not Maggie in bird form, but actual birds conditioned to carry messages along memorized routes between remembered people. Each one could hold five or six people in its recognition and several hundred routes. Taken somewhere unfamiliar, they could still find their way home. Four of them had made the journey to the stronghold. Within an hour they could travel between Border Town and Longsong Stronghold and return. They could fly without rest for a full day. In the absence of any wireless transmission, this was the fastest communication available.

He unrolled the cloth and skimmed it.

Wendy wrote that she had already transported Lotus, Sylvie, Leaves, Hummingbird, and Nana to the Redwater River fork aboard Little Town, along with artillery crews and eight cannons — the maximum the cement ship could carry in a single run. She was returning now for another load.

Roland did the calculation as he read. Little Town at full speed, with Sylvie navigating: a day to reach the fork. Wendy’s magical reserves were significantly smaller than Anna’s — she could not maintain her ability through the night, which meant the ship traveled by day and rested after dark. Two days per round trip. Four days to the engagement. Two round trips: sixteen field cannons total.

Fewer guns than they had used in previous engagements. But the geometry of this ambush made numbers less critical. Sixteen field cannons with clear targeting lanes against ships confined to a channel, firing into the T-axis — the mathematics were favorable.

He took the pen Nightingale held out and wrote the new orders: the defense forces were to arm up and set off immediately, merging under Iron Axe’s command at the fork. He handed the cloth back to the kite and watched it launch from his shoulder, clearing the window in three wing beats.

Within half an hour, Scroll would be reading these orders. Within the hour, Brian would have them.


He arrived at the fork the following morning.

The Redwater River split here with the quiet certainty of geography — the wider channel carrying the main flow east toward Redwater City, the narrower branch cutting south toward Longsong Stronghold’s Little Redwater. Standing at the bank, Roland could see both channels from the ridge above. The water was clear in the early light, still and cold-looking.

The witches were already there, waiting.

“Where’s Wendy?” he asked.

“On her way back,” Leaves reported. “She said there’s another batch of cannons to bring.”

Lotus stepped forward. Her face held the barely-restrained energy of someone who had been waiting for this moment and was done waiting. “We’re dealing with Timothy Wimbledon — the fake king who hunts witches in every city he controls.” She fixed Roland with a look. “What do you need us to do?”

Iron Axe and the First Army main force had not yet arrived. But with the witches here, preliminary work could begin.

Roland crouched and picked up a stone, using it to draw on the dirt of the riverbank. A long flat line for the river. Two marks where it forked. Diagonal lines representing the enemy’s approach.

“I need defensive fortifications on both banks of the main channel. Split positions forming a large V, oriented toward the water. Long structures — thick walls — eight compartments each, small windows facing the river. This is where the guns go.”

Lotus studied his diagram. Her brow creased. “I understand hiding the soldiers so the enemy doesn’t see them. But the soldiers inside can’t fire through solid walls. If the enemy fleet keeps sailing and doesn’t stop or pull to shore, they’ll just pass through.”

“They won’t pass through.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll see when it’s time.”

He turned to Leaves. “Cover the fortifications with weeds and vines once they’re built. Everything should look like a natural slope — indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain.”

“Understood.”

Within a day — less, at the rate Lotus worked — two earthwork structures would stand on the riverbanks. To anyone approaching by water, they would appear to be ordinary hills. When the time came, the cover plates over the windows would be lifted from inside, and sixteen field cannon muzzles would emerge at once across a firing arc encompassing the entire main channel width.

Cannon that did not need to account for the motion of a deck. Cannon that could not be moved by fire or fragment. Cannon that could hit stationary targets on calm water at this range with closed eyes.

And the enemy would arrive sailing directly into the mouth of the T — that most merciless of naval positions, where every gun bore on you and you can bring none to bear in return.

Tell me, Roland thought, sketching the angles in the dirt, holding the T’s superior position — how exactly am I supposed to lose?

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