Khao’khen studied the North Bridge crossing from the southern bank and saw the problem that Snowe had designed for him.

The bridge was narrow, wide enough for perhaps eight warriors abreast, its stone span exposed to direct fire from the fortified positions on the northern bluff. The river was deep, its current strong enough to sweep a warrior in armor off his feet and carry him downstream before he could reach the far bank. The bluff that rose from the northern shore was steep, its face providing natural protection to the defenders who had dug positions along its crest with the professional efficiency that characterized every Threian military operation.

An assault across the bridge would be a slaughter. The narrow span compressed any attacking force into a column that the Threian crossbows and mages could destroy at leisure. Even the Rhakaddons, the Horde’s heaviest assault element, could not charge across a bridge that would force them into single file, their armored bulk an advantage in open terrain but a liability in a chokepoint that reduced the engagement to a contest of who could push hardest through the narrowest space.

“He chose well,” Sakh’arran observed, and the admission carried no resentment, only the professional respect of a strategist acknowledging good work by an opposing mind. “The position negates our numerical advantage, our formation advantage, and our Rhakaddon advantage simultaneously. To cross here costs us more than we can afford.”

“Then we do not cross here,” Khao’khen said.

He turned from the bridge and walked to the map that Sakh’arran had spread across the back of a supply wagon, its surface marked with the intelligence that the Verakh scouts had been gathering since the Horde’s advance began. The river stretched across the map in a winding blue line, its course bending and straightening as the terrain dictated. The bridge at North was the primary crossing, but the river was not infinite. Somewhere upstream, somewhere downstream, the water would shallow or narrow to a point where a crossing was possible.

“The Verakhs?” Khao’khen asked.

“Already deployed. Eight squads covering ten miles in each direction. They are looking for exactly what you are looking for: a ford, a shallows, a point where the river can be crossed without using the bridge that the pinkskins have turned into a fortress.”

* * * * *

The reports came back over the following hours with the methodical completeness that the Verakh network produced. Upstream, the river narrowed at a point seven miles east where a rockfall had partially dammed the flow, creating a stretch of shallow water that a warrior could wade through chest-deep. The bottom was uneven, the current was still strong, and the crossing would be slow, but it was possible. Downstream, the river widened into marshy ground three miles west, where the water spread across a broad, shallow delta that could be crossed at multiple points but that offered no concealment to a force making the attempt.

Sakh’arran assessed both options with the analytical precision that was his contribution to the Horde’s command structure. “The upstream ford is defensible for the crossing force but slow. Moving seven miles upstream, crossing, and then marching seven miles back to the bridge position takes a full day. The downstream marshes are faster to reach but offer no cover. A force crossing there would be visible from the Threian positions on the bluff and could be engaged by cavalry before it formed on the northern bank.”

Khao’khen studied the map in silence, his mind processing the tactical geometry with the focus that years of command had developed. Two crossings, neither ideal. A bridge he could not assault directly. A defending force that was smaller than his own but positioned behind natural and engineered defenses that multiplied its strength.

“Both,” he said.

Sakh’arran’s eyebrow rose fractionally.

“We use both crossings. Simultaneously. The 1st and 2nd Warbands cross upstream at the ford. The 5th through 8th Warbands demonstrate at the bridge, keeping the pinkskins’ attention fixed on the direct approach. The 3rd and 4th Warbands cross downstream through the marshes.”

“The downstream force will be exposed during the crossing,” Sakh’arran noted.

“Which is why they cross at night. The marshes are shallow enough that warriors can wade in darkness if the Verakhs mark the route. By dawn, we have forces on the northern bank at two points, upstream and downstream, with the bridge demonstration holding the pinkskins’ attention at the center.”

Sakh’arran was silent for a moment, his mind running the calculations that the plan required. The timing was complex. Three separate forces operating independently across a twenty-mile front, two of them crossing a river in darkness, all of them needing to arrive at their positions within hours of each other to prevent the Threians from defeating them in detail.

“It requires coordination that we have drilled but never executed under combat conditions,” the commander said. “The margin for error is narrow.”

“The margin for error at the bridge is zero,” Khao’khen replied. “A narrow margin is better than none.”

Sakh’arran studied the plan for a long moment, his analytical mind testing each component against the variables that combat would introduce. The upstream crossing depended on the Verakhs’ route-marking being accurate enough to guide two thousand warriors through a river in darkness.

The downstream crossing depended on the marshy ground being passable by infantry carrying full equipment. The bridge demonstration depended on the Threian defenders believing that the frontal assault was real and committing their reserves to meet it rather than investigating the flanks.

Each dependency was a point of potential failure. But each alternative, the bridge assault, the withdrawal to the corridor, the static defense that would eventually be starved out, carried certainties of failure that were worse than the risks of the plan.

“The Verakhs will mark the routes before midnight,” Sakh’arran said, his tone shifting from analysis to execution.

“The crossing forces depart two hours after dark. The demonstration begins at the same hour, with enough activity to hold the pinkskins’ attention on the bridge. By dawn, we have three forces on the northern bank and the geometry of their position is broken.” He paused.

“It is the most complex operation we have attempted. If it works, we break their second line. If it fails, we still hold the southern bank and we try something else.” Khao’khen nodded. Trying something else was not failure. It was adaptation. And adaptation was what the Yohan Horde had been built to do.

The orders went out at dusk. The 1st and 2nd Warbands, under Arka’garr’s direct command, began their march upstream toward the ford. The 3rd and 4th Warbands moved downstream toward the marshes, guided by Verakh scouts who had spent the afternoon marking the crossing route with stakes that would be visible by touch in the darkness.

The 5th through 8th Warbands remained at the bridge, their fires burning bright, their formations visible from the northern bank, their presence a declaration that the Horde intended to force the crossing at the point where the Threians were strongest.

Behind the demonstration force, the Rhakaddons waited. Their role would come later, after the crossings were complete, when the northern bank was contested and the bridge’s defenders found themselves facing threats from three directions instead of one.

The night deepened. The river flowed. And the Yohan First Horde began the most complex operation it had ever attempted.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep