‘We can’t.’
‘What do you mean we can’t?’
‘This gorge cuts through the mountains for miles in either direction. Even if we go down into it, you can see it is vertical on the other side. They’ll leave a watcher, one man alone could stop all of us.’
‘So we ride around it.’
‘That’s just it, sire. It’s miles or more around till we find another way, if we can find it. Another storm on the wind and even now the passes might be closed.’
‘We find it!’
The tracker sighed inwardly, but let no expression betray his feelings. He looked at his master and nodded. ‘First back to the bridge, my lord. That is the way.’
Bovai looked at the fallen span, as if willing it back into place. He knew that they were in alien lands. He stared at the mountains before 161
him, as if committing them to memory forever. To the east, arching off along the northern side of the valley he saw below, he knew the Teeth of the World rose up, impassable for the most part. On the other side would be the great Edder Forest, home to the barbaric glamedhel. The moredhel of the Northlands were no less bold than his own clan, and they gave those woods wide berth. Bovai cast his eyes to the southern peaks that ringed the other side of the valley and realized that even if another pass existed from the Kingdom, the hills around it would be alive with stockades and castles garrisoned for the winter by men from Yabon and Tyr-Sog.
Back to the bridge, and along the Broad River, around the Edder Forest, and seek a pass in the mountains through the winter snow. Bovai knew it might take months to find another way into this valley.
One of the trackers said, ‘My chieftain?’
Quietly, Bovai replied, ‘Someone got into that valley, years ago, so that they could be on the other side of this gorge, and take the rope thrown from this side. That means there must be another way.’
The tracker nodded.
‘Back to the bridge, and we start looking for that way.’
Bovai looked at his troops. He knew questions would be asked around the fires this night. Victory and vengeance had to be won, no matter how long it took, otherwise he knew with a grim certainty he would be dead at the hands of his master. Murad would brook no insult to his clan, and when he learned it was Tinuva who ran with the humans . . .
Bovai nodded once, and turned, leading his men back through the narrow gap in the rocks. Best not to think of Murad discovering Tinuva’s part in this until the moment when he could present the Paramount Chieftain with both Hartraft’s and Tinuva’s heads.
Past freezing and injured goblins he strode, his mind lost in dreams of bloody vengeance, and none who saw his expression doubted for a moment that the chase was not over, but was merely postponed.
162
ten
Valley
The valley was rich and fertile.
The high mountain peaks which surrounded it blocked off most of the snow so that the tall grass in the pastures was still exposed and stood nearly waist-high.
The stream they were following bubbled over rocks and swirled into eddying pools and more than one of his men exclaimed how they saw fish just waiting to be caught. Even for the unpractised eyes of the Tsurani, game signs were abundant and all were commenting on the fact, pointing out the does grazing in distant fields, wild mountain goats and the tracks of bear and elk.
Dennis asked, ‘How can this place exist?’
Tinuva knelt at the edge of the stream and said, ‘Feel the water.’
Dennis did as he was bid and exclaimed, ‘It’s warm!’
Asayaga knelt next to him and after he had plunged his hand into the water, said, ‘I would not call this warm, but it lacks the icy bite I would expect from melted snow.’
‘Exactly,’ said Dennis.
Tinuva pointed to the north-west. ‘Above us lies Akenkala, a volcano. In my youth she spewed liquid rock and filled the sky with smoke that lasted for more than a year.’ He stood up, wiping his hand on his tunic. ‘She sleeps now, but there is still fire within her.’
‘Which heats the water running down into this valley,’ said Asayaga.
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Dennis looked around. ‘The air here is warmer than it is to the south, in Yabon.’
Asayaga nodded. ‘It is a wondrous place.’
‘The bounty of this place is beyond anything I’ve seen,’ said Tinuva.
‘We passed orchards as we scouted.’
They resumed walking. The men were not lulled by the relative kindness of the environment. They were still in enemy territory, and it would be foolish to expect whoever lived here to be a friend.
For they knew someone live here.
They had yet to find a single person, but the valley was clearly inhabited. They had passed three farmsteads, constructed of heavy logs, all of them still intact. In the fireplace of one the fire was still smouldering and in the barn a dozen chickens were to be found in a coop.
As the afternoon progressed the men became more and more uneasy at the eerie silence, the sense that they were walking through a realm of ghosts.
Tinuva and Gregory had ridden ahead and Dennis finally called a halt, moving the men up towards the treeline to rest, but forbade them to light fires. The afternoon sun, however, was relatively warm and in the still air it was actually rather comfortable. Soon nearly all the men had drifted into an exhausted sleep, including Dennis.
Brother Corwin was quietly tending to the wounded, seeing to their comfort, working with skilled hands to clean an arrow-wound in the arm of one of Asayaga’s men, who wandered over to watch.
The priest deftly bandaged the wound, laid out a blanket for the soldier to rest upon and stood up, wiping his hands. He saw Asayaga watching.
‘All these men have been pushed beyond the limit,’ Corwin said slowly, speaking in the manner one does when talking to a foreigner and is not yet sure of his skill with the language.
Asayaga grunted and said nothing in reply.
‘Even the men without hurts need several days with a roof over their heads, plenty of hot food and sleep. If I could get the wounded into shelter I think I could save all of them as well.’
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‘Perhaps there is something ahead,’ Asayaga ventured.
‘This is a strange place. It’s on no map.’
‘You have a map?’
‘Ones I saw in the monastery,’ Corwin replied quickly. ‘I studied them before coming up to join the army.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Many places, but from Ran originally. Why?’
‘Just curious. How far from here?’
‘A month or more by caravan.’
‘And this is your first time in battle?’
‘No,’ said the monk, obviously not wishing to repeat his personal history. ‘I’ve seen a scuffle or two. I joined the order late, I was in my thirties when I got the calling to serve.’
‘Why?’
‘You are full of questions, Tsurani.’
Asayaga smiled. ‘It is my job to learn. I understand there was some trouble regarding you. You didn’t start with this unit, they found you and as a result a close friend of Hartraft was killed.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I have ears, I listen when the Kingdom troops talk. They all speak of it.’
‘Two of my brothers and I were coming up to join the army. We got lost. My brothers were captured by one of your units. I fled and stumbled into Hartraft’s company. I ruined a surprise attack they were planning and in the chaos that followed Hartraft’s closest friend and advisor was killed.’
Asayaga nodded thoughtfully. ‘Which unit of my army?’
‘How am I suppose to know? You all look alike to me.’
‘You all look alike to me, except for the Natalese scout. Which unit?’
‘I don’t know. Why?’
‘If Hartraft destroyed one of the units of my army I’m curious to know.’
‘It all happened so quickly
,’ Corwin said slowly, as if the memory of the incident was still painful. ‘One moment the forest was empty, the next Tsurani troops were everywhere and I ran.’
‘Their helmets. Some are marked with feathered plumes, others 165
with coloured cloth wrapped around the top,’ and as he spoke Asayaga pointed to the strip of faded blue cloth tied to the back of his helmet.
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Was it yellow? I know that Zugami’s company was on patrol.
Maybe pale green of Catuga, or the red feather of Wanutama?’
Corwin looked thoughtful. ‘I think green. Who was this Catuga?’
‘Was?’
‘They were all killed; you know that don’t you?’
Asayaga lowered his head. ‘Green then.’
‘Yes, I’m almost certain.’
‘I see. The leader, Catuga, he had a spiked helmet and was tall for one of my race, as tall almost as Hartraft. He was an old friend of mine. Did Hartraft kill him?’
‘Yes. I remember seeing that. I saw Hartraft kill him towards the end of the fight.’
Asayaga nodded and looked over to where Dennis slept.
‘Scouts coming in!’
It was young Richard whom Dennis had detailed with an unfortunate half dozen others to stand watch while the rest of them slept.
Instantly men were awake, sitting up, looking to the west. Down along the brook which they had been following Asayaga could see the two riders slowing, turning aside, and coming up the hill to the edge of the woods.
At once Dennis was awake and on his feet and Asayaga fell in by his side. He could hear Dennis groaning softly as he walked, stretching, trying to shake off the exhaustion.
Gregory and Tinuva reined in and dismounted.
‘Two miles ahead. A stockade. Fairly new from the looks of it, a good position, set on top of a hill, a dozen or so farmsteads surrounding it.’
‘Occupied?’ asked Dennis.
The scout nodded. ‘Humans.’
‘They know we’re here?’
‘Fair to assume so. The gate was closed, no one was in the fields or farmhouses outside the stockade.’
Dennis rubbed his chin as he thought.
166
‘They undoubtedly had a watcher on the bridge,’ Asayaga offered.
‘Strange they didn’t cut it.’
‘Perhaps they didn’t have time. Tinuva and I ran the risk of rushing it when we first saw it. We saw footprints but they were boy-size.’
‘They know we’re here,’ Dennis mused aloud, head lowered. ‘We need shelter. Do you think we could take it?’
‘If they’ve got twenty men in there, armed with bows, they’ll kill half of us.’
‘A night attack then.’
‘What I was thinking.’
‘Why attack?’ Asayaga asked.
‘What?’ and Dennis turned to look at him.
‘We could talk, make an offer.’
‘We are a good fifty miles beyond the frontier,’ Dennis announced as if trying to explain something basic to a child. ‘Anyone up here is outside the law and is to be treated as such.’
‘The law?’ Asayaga said with a bitter laugh. ‘You call what we are doing to each other the law, and people up here are the lawless?
Have we seen any sign of the presence of these Dark Brothers here?’
And as he spoke the question he looked at Tinuva.
The elf slowly shook his head. ‘Nothing. I’ve seen only human signs since we came to the valley floor. There is a chance, though, they could be allied to the moredhel.’
Asayaga looked sceptical. ‘Do you think that? If they were allied to the Forest Demons they should have been waiting for us at the bridge. Surely those behind us would have sent one fast rider around us while we were down in the foothills, to gain their help in blocking the bridge. I think those who pursued us were as surprised by the bridge as we were. The way they attacked frontally tells me they had no knowledge of the terrain above us or what was at the top of the trail. Two archers could have stopped us from crossing. I think these people are hiding, had no idea of our approach and we are a very unwelcome surprise.’
Tinuva was silent for a moment as if deep in thought, and then finally nodded his head. ‘You have a logical mind, Asayaga. And wisdom.’
‘I see where this is going,’ Dennis said wearily.
*
*
*
167
Dennis looked over at Asayaga as the two of them walked up the trail. They were in the open now, in the killing zone of open fields around the stockade. Tinuva, as always, was right in his observations: the wooden stockade was somewhat weathered, but was not more than several years old. Smoke coiled from a chimney of the long house inside the small fortress. Dennis could see faces peering over the wall, but it was hard to tell who they were.
‘Women and old men, mostly,’ Dennis said. ‘Listen to me, the moment the first arrow flies we run and if you get hit, blood debt or not I’m leaving you. This scheme borders on outright stupidity.
There is no way in hell they are going to swing open their gates to over a hundred armed men.’
‘Blood debt?’
‘You know damn well what I mean. Fishing me out of the river.’
Asayaga laughed softly.
‘So you honour that, too.’
‘I honour nothing, Asayaga. I think this idea is mad, but if we can capture this place intact, without losing any more men, or worse yet having it burn down around us, we just might survive the next few days. That’s the only reason I’m coming along with you.’
‘It’s me coming along with you,’ Asayaga growled. ‘You’re the Kingdom soldier, I’m the alien invader, as you put it when we discussed this idea.’
‘I need you along to help explain what we want.’
‘Not another step closer!’
The voice, clearly that of an old man, caused them to stop.
‘Clear out of here right now, or my archers will riddle you with arrows.’
Dennis cautiously lowered the shield loaned to him by Asayaga’s sergeant and raised his right hand. ‘I wish to parley.’
‘Clear out, I tell you.’
‘I am Dennis Hartraft, of the House of Hartraft. My father and grandfather before him held the royal warrant as wardens of the marches before the coming of the Tsurani. I come without weapon drawn to talk.’
‘Hartraft? They’re all dead these nine years. Go away.’
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Dennis lowered his shield, letting the butt rest on the ground.
With his free hand he ever so slowly unbuttoned his cape and let it fall to the ground, revealing the faded colours of the Hartraft crest on his dirty tunic. It was not the tunic he usually wore on patrol, but Gregory had suggested that he pull it out of his pack and put it on.
‘By these colours,’ he pointed at his chest, ‘you will see that I am who I claim to be. I am rightful warden of the marches.’
‘Step closer.’
Dennis gave a sidelong glance at Asayaga and did as requested, stopping when he felt that to venture any closer was suicide. He carefully scanned the battlement, looking for the slightest movement that would indicate a bow being drawn.
Asayaga advanced with him, but kept his shield up.
‘That short fellow beside you?’
‘I am Force Commander Asayaga of House Tondora, of Clan Kanazawai.’
‘Why would Tsurani and Kingdom soldiers march side by side?
You are deserters and renegades. Clear out. You are liars: I heard that no Hartraft would tolerate a Tsurani to live.’
Again the sidelong glance from Asayaga.
‘How do you know what a Hartraft would do?’ Dennis asked.
‘I just know,’ the old man cried in a peevish voice. ‘Now move it, you scum-eaters, you sons of drunken whores, you rump-kissing pasty-faced boys not fit to suck the pig-dung off my toes. No man who claims to be a Hartraft would walk with a damned Tsu
rani who looks like the offspring of a cretinous dwarf and a one-legged disease-addled harlot.’
Asayaga bristled, raised his shield slightly, obviously ready to respond to the insult to his lineage.
‘Don’t move,’ Dennis hissed, and even as he spoke there was a puzzled look on his face as if trying to remember something.
Asayaga, features turning red with anger struggled to maintain control.
‘The Tsurani by my side is indeed a sworn enemy,’ Dennis replied.
‘But there is a darker enemy afoot. Whoever it was you had watching the rope bridge will tell you that.’
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‘He saw only an elf and a Natalese before he fled to bring warning.’
‘We are pursued by the Dark Brotherhood. Tsurani and Kingdom soldiers will always lower their swords against each other and join to fight such a foe.’
‘Damn you,’ and there was a tense shrillness to the challenging voice.
‘If they are chasing you now you’ve brought them down upon us! Clear out! I’ll grant you the rights of parley no longer. Clear out, you sons of a herder who sleeps with his goats because they remind him of his sister!’
‘Damn foul-mouthed fool,’ Asayaga hissed. ‘Maybe you were right, Hartraft. Once it’s dark we storm the place.’
Dennis, however, let his shield drop to the ground and stepped forward another pace.
It was the wonderful insults that had triggered something. A memory of long ago, of boyhood, a memory of hearing such phrases, cherishing them, and repeating them to his friends, until one day his father overheard him and washed his mouth out with soured milk.
‘I know that voice. Wolfgar, is that you?’
The voice did not reply.
‘Damn it. Wolfgar? I remember you now. When I was a boy you
use to chant the old ballads for my grandfather. You were the finest of bards of the northern frontier.’
Dennis took another few steps forward and cleared his throat.
‘Kinsmen die, cattle die, I myself shall die, All that shall live after me, When I go to the halls of my sires, Are the songs that Wolfgar shall chant of the glory won in battle.’
He proclaimed the words in the old way, a deep baritone chant, his voice carrying far across the fields.