Chapter 15

Twenty years after becoming a Baron...

Kazani and Saraki’s brother Estebo arrived with his camel caravan when Kahar was twenty-five. He warned me of rumors that Vimnia was preparing to invade Morilia. By then, Morilia had become an exceedingly wealthy country. Former Nordlinger slaves accompanying me on my explorations had found and opened numerous rich mines in the Anzala Mountains. The mines were theirs. All I did was act as a guide while doing my own exploring. Still, each mine insisted on paying our clan half a share. The Nordlinger men who accompanied me were experienced miners and had a much better idea of what to look for than I did. Evidently, our mountains have vast deposits of many different ores. Our clan’s copper and salt mines are still producing today, and we haven’t yet begun mining the copper north of the Zingha River. I continued to find new plants and sent back a weekly pouch of any I’d not seen before.

The wide, fertile coastal plain and the river valleys grew enough grain and other crops that the people of Morilia exported far more than they consumed. We also raised and sold livestock to other countries.

Our clan was now well known for the large draft horses and the ultra-soft goat hair from the goats sent us by the Nordlinger King. The Nordlingers may have raised the animals for centuries, but they didn’t have room for the pastures required to raise large herds of the animals.

More than two dozen women helped Mothers Sofala, Nykeea, and Pia with the plants they grew and collected to use as herbs for people and animals, as well as for making various dyes. Their herb garden now covers four hills, not counting the four hills used to grow opium poppies and antler thorn berries. In addition to Pia, who knew Nordlinger herbs and dyes, they managed to get knowledgeable herbalists from Jatolia, Vimnia, Libania, Azarakia, and Ravinia. Those women studied the sheets of dried plants I sent back; a collection that now fills much of Mother Sofala’s original workshop. The pages are stacked neatly on shelves made specifically to fit the pieces of cloth the plants are glued to. The stacks are even sorted by which mountain they were found on, along with a brief description of the location.

Their collection of herbs includes fifteen new ones someone recognized from among the ones I sent back, as well as many new ones the other herbalists brought seeds for. They now make dye cakes in red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. The women learned to cut the thorns off the antler berry bushes once they reach knee-high. After that, they cut thorns off the new growth every other month. The walls surrounding the hills where we grow poppy seeds and antler berries have a thick hedge of a different thorny bush growing along the outside. Nobody attempting to get through the six-foot thick hedge could possibly do so unscathed, and the dogs guarding the hills would hear them. In addition, shards of flint have been glued atop the wall. At least three rows of chips on each wall.

Our clan uses pastures in the three valleys and the part of coastal plain south of the Zingha River for our livestock. The rest of the hills between the coastal plain and the mountains are planted with orchards, vineyards, and herbs, as well as the lower slopes of the first row of mountains beyond the hills. With people from so many other countries living here, we have many new crops that grow successfully, especially the cotton for which Kazani and Saraki brought us seeds. By now, we use most of the northern floodplain of the Tattatoo River to grow cotton. The town decided that, if we bought the land, we could sell what grew there.

We have twelve mills operating. Two flour mills, one mill to grind corn, and the rest are sawmills. For a while, we were hard pressed to cut enough lumber for all the new construction. Between our clan, the Nordlingers, and the Ravinians, there was a lot of new construction for several years. I think Ravinia lost a quarter to a third of their population as they emigrated here to settle. Ravinia became an official ally and trading partner, so nobody dared attack them.

Between immigration, emigration, and a population explosion, the population of Morilia quadrupled in the decade after the defeat of Bajasan. Still, we produced enough to feed everyone and still had an equal amount of food available to export.

Throughout Morilia, cities grew huge; towns grew into cities, and new towns and villages sprang up everywhere. There are now eight towns and two small cities on the coastal plain between the Zingha River and Port Zamfara. Seven more towns sprang up in large mountain valleys that I discovered between the Zingha River and the Zamfara River--before I turned twenty-one. In addition, small towns arose around each of the new mines that opened in our mountains.

Jealous of Morilia’s steadily increasing wealth, and eager to control the source of the lucrative opium poppies and antler berries, Vimnia planned to attack us, using mercenaries from countries to the north and east of them to swell the ranks of their own army.

Father and I reported Estebo’s warning to King Kugiar, and several of us studied maps for two days. “There are only two routes they can use to bring that many troops here,” King Kugiar concluded. Father and I both agreed. While there were dozens of what amounted to no more than goat paths and game trails through the mountains, they were narrow enough that only one person at a time could pass, and only in good weather. If the ground was wet, it became slippery enough that even goats avoided the trails.

Still, King Kugiar had sentry towers built near the summit along each trail and posted sentries. In most cases, they even built a wall and gate across the uneven ground along the trails as a further deterrent. Most of the walls extended only a foot or two beyond the gate because the passages were so narrow.

At the end of the meetings, Father and King Kugiar agreed that if the Vimnians attacked during the wet season, they would have to follow the caravan route. The only other route was through the mountains well north of the Tattatoo River and east of the capital. Being from the tropical jungle, the snow would be too much for the Vimnians to endure.

“If I were the Vimnian commander, that’s precisely why I would use the mountain pass,” I commented. “Knowing that you would expect the attack to come through the caravan route, I’d use the route you wouldn’t expect, despite the snow,” I explained.

“I’ll put together companies of Nordlingers and Ravinians who are used to the mountains and snow and will prepare to defend the mountain pass if necessary,” I promised. The King and Father both liked my suggestion. Former Second Lieutenant and now Captain Tjorius agreed with my assessment of the situation when I explained what I wanted to do and why.

When the call went out for volunteers, we were inundated with Nordlinger and Ravinian volunteers. We promoted former Sergeant Pargakz to Lieutenant and put him in charge of training the new Nordlinger and Ravinian recruits while Captain Tjorius and his two companies of trained Nordlingers went with me to survey the mountain pass and to build battlements. For half a year, we surveyed the area, set up traps and pitfalls, and planned our strategy. We also built small breastworks along the sides of the mountains, well above the pass. The breastworks were only accessible from above or behind and were nearly impossible to reach from the floor of the pass except for trained climbers.

Finally satisfied that we were as prepared as we could be, we returned home. I almost laughed when I saw the men Pargakz was training. Even though the weather was cool, they were sweating in their rabbit fur pants and cloaks. I realized what a good idea it was. In the snow, they would be nearly invisible. They even whitewashed their crossbows.

When the first snow fell in the mountains to the north, there was still no sign that the Vimnian army was ready to move. Each Libanian caravan, however, warned of troops congregating at large Vimnian army camps just north of the Tattatoo River and east of the Anzala Mountains.

By the time we received word that the Vimnian army was on the move, we had nearly forty thousand sheaves of arrows and eighty thousand sheaves of bolts for the two thousand men of the newly commissioned Mountain Battalion. Half of the bolts and arrows were already pre-positioned.

We had sleds to carry our supplies once we reached snow deep enough that horses and mules became ineffective. Every man had two pairs of snowshoes, a bow, a crossbow, a sword, and a spear. Some preferred large or small battle-axes instead of swords. They each had a long rabbit fur coat that was almost completely white on one side and white and brown on the inside in case they were hiding amongst rocks that weren’t covered with snow.

Our scouts even had something they called skis, an idea from Nordland. Those let them glide across the top of the snow. Going downhill, they moved as fast as a horse could on flat, bare ground. After trying them unsuccessfully and falling several times, much to the amusement of my men, I stuck with snowshoes.

With the first reports of the Vimnian army moving, we rode northeast to the snow and practiced hiking and camping in the snow. Lieutenant Pargakz and I were miserable in the cold, wet snow. The Nordlingers and Ravinians seemed right at home. The wolves made it very clear that they loved the snow, running, bounding, and rolling around in it like pups. They loved to shake it off when they were right next to me. I guess they were sharing their fun.

Scouts reported that the Vimnian army was following the caravan route, surprising me. They had nearly fifteen thousand troops headed for the caravan pass. Ten thousand were marching and five thousand were riding at the rear. Still, our company headed for the mountain pass, just in case. Father and the King had eight thousand men and an easily defensible position that the Vimnian army would have a difficult time defeating, even with ten times their current numbers.

With the advanced warning that we had of a potential invasion, we had built a new wall farther east and higher up in the caravan pass, even closer to the Libanian border. It was twenty feet thick at the base and forty feet high. The narrow gap the pass went through at that point was less than a hundred feet wide, which would severely limit the number of troops able to attack in each wave. The mountain walls on both sides were so steep that only a few of the best rock climbers we had could scale them, and it would take them half a day.

Having explored the mountain and the entire area extensively, I knew that there was no other way through the pass. The new breastworks along the last mile of the caravan route had been built high enough along both sides of the route that our troops could rain arrows and rocks down on an enemy below even before they reached the first wall. From the breastworks, a fist-sized rock became a deadly projectile to someone in the pass below, capable of killing or breaking bones, and there were tens of thousands of such rocks stored along the breastworks. The eastern slopes of the two mountains adjacent to the pass were deep, rocky chasms that looked like an ancient river had once run through there.

The stream from our main valley had been diverted into a newly dug moat ten feet in front of the original wall across the pass. Our original wall was twenty miles west of the new wall and more than two thousand feet lower in elevation. Once the moat was full, the stream continued to cascade over a narrow rock and mortar dam that kept the moat full. Sure, people could walk along the top of the dam, but it wasn’t even a foot wide. The slate we used to cap the dam was covered with algae and was downright slippery when it was wet, and the top was angled down towards the chasm below, so you’d have a hell of a fall if you slipped. Let me tell you, that water was cold! Anyone who managed to swim across the moat would be too busy shivering to attack, even in the warmest weather. Since it didn’t get cold enough to freeze the water, we didn’t have to worry about an enemy crossing the ice atop the moat.

The day after we arrived and set up camp, our advance scouts reported nearly five thousand mercenary troops headed our way, marching through the knee-deep snow lower in the pass. They were about a day’s march into the snowy pass. We sent a messenger to keep Father and the King apprised of the situation. We made contact with the Vimnian army the next afternoon, raining rocks and arrows down on them from the breastworks we built earlier along the upper slopes of our pass. The snow effectively hid our handiwork from below, so our attack was a complete surprise. Once it was dark, we pulled back and prepared our next ambush. However, fifty of our best troops who had lots of previous experience in the snow attacked the Vimnian camp that night, aided by the wolves.

When I arose in the morning, a dozen wolves with blood on their muzzles were lying contentedly just outside my tent, licking themselves clean.

Each day we ambushed the mercenary troops from high enough that their bows were ineffective. Despite the rapid decrease in their number, they continued to march doggedly. Each night, wolves and a different fifty men attacked the Vimnian camp. After three days, our scouts reported that another five thousand Vimnian troops were approaching. With their path made easier by the first group who had trampled the snow, they were moving faster than the original group. I wondered where they got so many troops. They had fifteen thousand headed for the caravan pass, so they had at least twenty-five thousand troops under arms. They must have hired a lot of mercenaries.

We sent men back to get more bolts and arrows as we used more than five thousand every day. Our men had to make a four-day round trip to the capital to get them. Five days after sighting the second group of Vimnian troops in the pass, our scouts reported yet another five thousand troops starting into the pass, despite the heavy snow that had blanketed the area for the last three days.

The heavy snowstorm was the only thing that completely stopped the Vimnian army as they had continued to advance despite our best efforts to dissuade them. By now, they had already lost five thousand men. Our scouts also noted that some of the men we wounded and temporarily paralyzed were retreating once they could move again, but most of the wounded died, left where they fell in the snow. By the time the paralysis wore off, they were dead from the cold or from their untreated wounds.

Three days after the heavy snowfall stopped, the scouts reported yet another five thousand troops nearing the snow level in the pass. They rode horses until they reached the deep snow.

The Vimnian and mercenary army finally reached the summit and began their descent towards the capital, although there were far fewer of them now than when they began the invasion. Except during the heaviest of the snowstorm, our troops crept close and attacked them while they huddled in their tents, trying not to freeze. I figured that Father and the King were still tied up with the fifteen thousand troops attacking through the caravan pass, so it was up to us to stop the Vimnians. Two more days of heavy snow stopped them again, allowing us to continue attacking them day and night with small groups of men. The wolves evidently killed a number of their scouts and sentries as they would return each morning with fresh blood on themselves.

When the sun rose on a clear, much warmer than normal morning after two days of extremely heavy snowfall, I knew that we’d have to fight today. I didn’t even have to work our men into the mood to fight. They’d been ready for days. Wearing my long rabbit fur coat with the brown on the outside, I walked out of the thick pine trees where our men were hiding well above the exhausted-looking Vimnian army. I knew from our time here while we were scouting that my voice would carry to the Vimnian troops far below me.

I needed to goad the Vimnian soldiers into attacking us, hoping that all or many of the troops we would face were Vimnians and not foreign mercenaries. Estebo had told me how sensitive Vimnians were, and how they took offense at even the slightest insult, real or imagined, usually resulting in a fight. Wading through hip-deep snow as they tried to climb uphill to reach me would exhaust them quickly, making it easier for my men when we attacked. Hell, they might even be exhausted enough that I could finish them off one by one.

“I am Harazar the goatherd,” I shouted. The Vimnian troops struggling through the snow on the road stopped and looked up the hill at me. It looked as if there were more than five thousand troops, but not many more.

“You are Vimnipakwatoops,” I taunted, using a derogatory term for Vimnians that I’d heard. It debased them as being mud crawlers because so much of their land was swamp and only a handful of their biggest cities had stone or even wooden buildings. Almost everyone else lived in animal skin or mud-covered stick huts.