The forces of Winter moved southward, not so much as a coordinated army, but rather a horde of small and large groups going in the same direction. Each Warlord or Champion controlled his forces through rank, charisma, or sheer brutality, keeping his place until someone stronger put him down. Each lusted after the riches in the southlands and wanted to carve out their own fiefdom. As such, they saw each other as competitors more than allies. There were some exceptions. The Rime Knights served the Council as they had for centuries, enjoying their special status. The shambling, frozen dead had no say in what they did and moved as Glacia willed. Certain tribes or creatures owed her personal allegiance. She used those to keep the rest in line, and so far, there were few problems. Except for the warg packs. Of all the numerous creatures with short tempers, vile habits, and bestial manners, it was the wargs, some of the weakest creatures, that became the biggest problem.
The Deep Wardens had supplied the five hundred Snarlfangs, as they'd been ordered, but not without some complications. Digging out the mega-predators, defrosting, and binding them to Beastmasters had been an exhausting job. It hadn't been pleasant for the new Beastmasters or the Snarlfangs, either. The Beasts were confused and famished, looking to kill anything near them. More than once, the bindings had failed when a half-trained youngling had lost his nerve, or had insufficient willpower to overcome the Snarlfang's persona. The Wardens allowed the beast to feed, and then brought forth the next applicant. A good meal had a calming effect on the Snarlfang. And the next Beastmaster was highly motivated, seeing the price of failure. They had five hundred Snarlfangs and over seven hundred new Beastmasters. This meant that when something went wrong, the poor human was worth less to Winter than the valuable predator. On the other hand, a Level five Apprentice Beastmaster who could hunt alongside a Snarfang would normally be in the third Tier after a week of light hunting, and bond to one of the fiercest predators available. It was a high-risk/high-reward situation that had brought the apprentices running from all the nearby villages.
The ramifications of unleashing so many beasts at once became apparent as the beast packs and controllers moved to join the army. The first problem that arose was a lack of game for the Snarlfangs to hunt. The accompanying packs of Winter Worgs ranged ahead of the army, barely under control. Packs of hundreds devoured herds of caribou, dug up hibernating Ur-Sloths, and confronted Cave Bears in their lairs. They had numbers, hunger, and very little brains left from the quick-thawing methods used. Herds had to be brought to feed the Snarlfangs and their accompanying Rime Knights and handlers as they marched southward. Some of the older Beastmasters saw future problems coming, but the Knights and Wizards shrugged off their warnings. Too much cannon fodder of any type seemed like a good thing to them.
The arrival of the packs and controllers was the signal for the rest of the army to begin moving. Glacia rode in style atop a pure white woolly mumak. At thirty feet tall, the creature loomed over the army and gave Glacia a wonderful view of her troops. It also made any attempt on her life extremely difficult. It was always something she took into account, as did any member of the Council who wished to remain breathing. A squad of Rime Knights surrounded the great beast at all times, with several riding atop it, next to her protective howdah.
Glacia was thrilled with the huge horde of wargs. They were a mottled tide on all sides of her army, with the white, grey, and blue-black fur of each pack creating a montage of color. The thrill lasted until the howling began as night fell. One warg saw the moon and expressed his love for the silvery orb. Others agreed, and suddenly their howls became an unending chorus that went on until dawn. Any prey beast within twenty miles decided they were too close and raced away, making the food situation worse again. She was in a decidedly poor mood when the army started moving, and her war council met to discuss tactics and receive her orders for the day.
Maps were spread on a table showing the province of Grultain with Gadobhra in the Northwest corner, and Northguard further south. Markers were placed where Winter had enjoyed major victories over the Empire's forces. She pointed to where her current paramour, Callendish Mar, had crushed the Fire College and sent the Empire into panic mode. It had been a brilliant move on his part, only marred at the end when Shurhi pursued the fleeing mages and was ambushed by fresh forces. Secretly, she was quite happy for that. The Ice Devils had the powers of small gods, but also the ego and hubris of one. The remaining windbag showed that hubris when it had declared itself a god and demanded to be called Ymir. A small cult had appeared to worship it on a mountain top, sacrificing diamonds and other blue gemstones to it, along with all the mana they could manifest. Ymir was determined that when it went into battle, it would be victorious. Glacia secretly thought it was scared. Shurhi's death had shaken its illusion of omnipotence.
Stolen story; please report.
"What news from our scouts? Update the map."
Two underlings looked at their notes and made changes on the board. Xardus the Cold was her eyes and ears in the south, the old man letting his mind roam from one of his bound flyers to another as he followed the Empire's troop movements. He sat at the table, sipping chilled wine, and talked of what he saw. His blind eyes, the color of new snow on ice, were unnerving. His head rotated back and forth as he looked through the eyes of his owls, and the birds rotated their necks. Seeing him stare at the back of the room and whip his head back around as he calmly talked was an unnerving sight the first few dozen times you saw him do it. Glacia enjoyed seeing everyone nervous. Xardus claimed he was blind when bonded, but he seemed to stare at first one person, and then another.
"After the great victory, we wisely split our forces into small, fast-moving groups as they retreated northward, denying the South the chance at another battle as they brought their additional forces to bear. Like an osprey on the hunt, we struck and were gone. We did lose a few beastpacks to their fastest cavalry, but gained valuable information about House Franklin, a renegade mercenary group often chastised for their methods. Dangerous, but unfocused, and considered more outlaw than hero. They take after their most famous member, Damien the Mad. I think that with little effort, we can trap them in an ambush as they pursue an expendable small force. I'm working to set that up now. They make it easier by often riding alone. After we lure a number of them into an ambush, we'll begin picking them off, one by one."
He moved three markers towards Northgard. "We have three large contingents of Ice Walkers, a hundred strong each, near Northgard, sheltering from prying eyes and the sun in the abandoned villages nearby. The Ice Mages commanding them have fed me information that will interest you. The teleportation stone at Northguard was badly damaged and couldn't be repaired. The forces in the Legion fortress are cut off from the rest of the army and have decided to hold tight and defend the fortress. This mirrors their attitude for the last decade. Their commander hates to take the initiative, and we don't have to worry about his small force surprising us. The Baron is a madman who collects butterflies, and his castellan is a farmboy."
Glacia scowled, "But if the Duchess chooses to base her army out of Northguard, it could be a difficult nut to crack. We can't besiege Rowan Keep and leave her in our rear. I'd rather fight her in the field, where our beasts can whittle her down. Snarlfangs and wargs are lovely to have, but they don't climb ladders in a siege." No one corrected her, even those who knew that a Snarlfang could climb a ladder with ease, supposing it could hold the beast's weight. They could also leap over a ten-foot wall and scale a stone cliff like a cat climbs a tree. They weren't bad at climbing trees, either, and found cats and birds delicious.
"What of this small town? Why is it marked as important?"
Xardus somehow knew she was pointing at Hurlsford. "A smallish village, important to trade, but with no fortress or Legion presence, until now. The Legion is building fortifications around it, preparing for war. Our main force would sweep over it in an hour, but the additional defenses will keep them safe from small forces and beast packs, once completed."
"Then we won't let them complete them. A fast-moving force to destroy the town will shake them up and divert forces as our main army moves south. I want to take Northguard and man it with our forces. The Duchess won't be able to ignore a direct confrontation and will have to come to us. Why chase a bunch of rabbits across the tundra?"
A beastmaster named Garlyle suddenly cried out, as he began bleeding from a dozen small wounds. With an effort, he disengaged from his beast, saving his sanity. He turned to another who was concentrating hard and sweating. "Damn you! I'll slit your throat myself, Pater! Control your pack! You've cost me a valuable beast."
Pater said nothing, then he, too, began bleeding from wounds done to his bound beast. But he lacked Garlyle's willpower. Blood flew, and his head detached from his body. Glacia laughed, "It looks like you won't have to, Garlyle. Someone beat you to it. Now, tell me what is going on?"
"It's the wargs. There are too many to control, and too many to feed. They've begun to attack anything that moves. It took a hundred of them, but they killed my oldest Snarlfang just now, and I almost followed old Snuffy into the dark."
Glacia shrugged. The solution seemed obvious. "Lure the wildest warg packs away from the main army. Leave meat ahead of their path if you must, but get them moving. If we can't control or feed them, then we'll send them somewhere that they can further our aims. Let's see what twenty thousand wargs can do to Hurlsford."