Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,101
“She has a single cohort with her.”
“Even a battle cohort of the Sidhe is no match for us,” Corb said. “Attack.”
Ethniu’s voice was acidic. “Naturally. Mab will be an easy kill, I am certain. Listen?”
“We have no intelligence of One-Eye taking a position on the battlefield,” Listen said calmly. “This is obviously a trap.”
Dammit. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but . . .
“Of course it’s a trap,” Ethniu said. “That woman is a spider. The question is why she is allowing us to see it so easily.”
“The surprise attack took her off guard,” Corb said.
“The bodies of better than five hundred mortal troops we never knew existed would suggest otherwise,” Listen noted.
“Those were not soldiers,” spat Corb. “That was merely an armed rabble.”
“An armed rabble that killed a fifth of your legion?” Ethniu asked. “Perhaps I chose my ally poorly.”
Corb made a sputtering sound but didn’t speak. Which showed he had at least a few brains.
“The ambush was well set,” Listen said. “Partisans always fight that way, strike and flee. It is necessary given their lack of training and discipline.”
“We must pin them down,” Ethniu said.
“And we have,” Listen replied. “They are trapped inside their own defenses. My people and the Huntsmen press them from the north and have circled behind them in the west. They will not have another opportunity to inflict such damage. We only have to hold steady and finish pushing the blade home.”
“Your recommendation, Captain?”
“Destroy their fortifications with the Eye,” Listen said promptly. “Assign a cohort to mop them up after. Then turn everything upon Mab.”
Ethniu was silent for a time before she said, “Mab is too close. Should I use the Eye upon those fortifications, it will give her a window of opportunity in which to strike.”
Ah-hah. The superweapon wasn’t a wonder weapon. It had some kind of cooldown period. Good to know.
“Bring up the heavy weapons teams and bombard the fortifications,” Listen said. “It won’t be as decisive, but they’re only earthworks.”
“Will it be done before the mortals arrive with their mechanical weapons?”
“Difficult to say,” Listen said. “You saw who was leading the rabble.”
“The Winter Knight,” Corb spat.
“He is canny, resourceful, and stubborn,” Listen said. “It could be that he wields enough influence over them to keep them in place and fighting for a time, despite the bombardment.”
“Stupid Jotnar,” Corb muttered. “Dying to mere mortals. Were they here, they could simply stomp the fort flat.”
“They died killing the Einherjaren,” Listen noted. “Frankly, given what the revenants can do, I regard the trade as one in our favor. And we have a second group of Jotnar in the south. Could they be summoned?”
“Our messengers keep getting swarmed by these thrice-damned Little Folk,” Corb spat. “Who knew they were here in such numbers?”
“I did,” Listen said in a flat voice. “And my reports from the various scouting missions mentioned it specifically.”
“Mind your tongue, you jumped-up bed boy,” the Fomor snarled.
“Enough,” Ethniu said in a tone that made me clench up a little. When she spoke again, it was in her usual voice. “Captain Listen, the fortress is yours. Suppress it until such time as Corb and I have destroyed Mab. Once she is no more, I will reduce the fortress.”
“We attack!” Corb said, his tone enormously self-satisfied.
“Unwise,” Listen said.
“Time flees from us,” Ethniu replied. “Risks must be taken. I need someone competent on the fortress.”
“What?” Corb said.
“She said she needed someone competent,” Listen replied, in a polite, helpful voice.
“Prepare your warbands, King Corb,” Ethniu said in a placating tone. “We will destroy Mab together, and your people will have their vengeance upon the Sidhe.”
Corb made a sound that would have been more appropriate coming from a teakettle. Then he stalked away, followed by a retinue of Fomor as his personal bodyguards.
“He will kill you in your sleep one night,” Ethniu predicted.
“I’ll be waiting for him,” Listen replied.
“For a mortal, you are uncommonly capable—and insouciant,” Ethniu said. “If I did not need you for later, I might kill you myself.”
“But you do need me,” Listen said calmly. “And you haven’t got anyone else as good as me.”
“I find it pleasant to have the service of someone who can think,” the Titan replied. “Yet you are mortal. One is much like another.”
“How many starborn are there wandering about, this close to the endga—” Listen’s voice broke off abruptly. “Sergeant, I want a light on that mound of rubble, right now.”
The world blurred as Grimalkin moved, and gunfire roared painfully loud and near—