The Haven

by Graham Diamond

  Now the dogs became hysterical. Yaps and war-crys bounded and echoed through the wood. Nearby Dwellers cowered in fear. The dogs were in a rage — and it would be taken out on them!

  Toland shouted above the roar. “From the North we await two thousand; another thousand begin their trek from the South. Daily more come from the West, from the Swamp. Fifteen hundred have already joined us from the East, and more are yet to come. Another thousand are promised from the Lowlands. Each day our ranks swell by hundreds. And I, Toland, Lord of the Southern Forest, shall bring three thousand more! Together will we be over ten thousand fighting dogs. And then shall the Night-Birds come. Flocks of them, thousands, to blacken the sky.

  “Let men gather their birds and their wolves. We shall march on the Valley and tear down the Haven. I swear before you: by the cold winds of winter the world shall be ours. This will be no mere war, but a holy crusade! And we shall be victorious!”

  “Hail Toland!” they screamed at the top of their lungs. “Hail the Master!” If there had been any doubt about his might, tonight had laid it to rest. He was no warlord, no mere King. Indeed he was destined to rule the earth. And wherever he led, they would follow. The Prophesy was fulfilled: the Master had come!

  Their chanting and howling became so great, so terrible, that for miles in each direction the forest shuddered. The world would soon be at war. The Great Pack had formed, and death was in the air.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Nigel did what?”

  Sean sat with his mouth gaping, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. With a look of disbelief he glanced sideways at Assan and Elon. The other men shared some of his shock but kept it to themselves. Elon leaned back, made a pyramid with his hands, and tapped his fingertips lightly together. All the time he gazed sternly at Bela, who stood before him.

  “This is an outrage!” said Sean, not willing to let the matter drop. “I demand that you call off this mission at once!”

  Elon looked coldly at him for a moment and then turned his attention back to Beta. “And you,” he said, “you sat back quietly when all this went on?”

  Bela met the stare. “I did, Lord. It seemed to me that Nigel did the right thing.”

  “Ha! The ‘right thing,’ he says,” cried Sean. “The fool doesn’t know when to stop looking for trouble.”

  “I saw it as a great opportunity,” said Bela. “Having a Hunter to escort our men into the forest could save their lives. Who would understand the dangers better than a Dweller? The wolf will lead them away from harm.”

  “Lead them away from harm? This is absurd!” Sean threw up his hands and slapped them against his thighs. “It’s bad enough that we’re sending some of our finest soldiers into the forest as it is. But now you stand here and tell us that a wolf will lead them. Lead them, mind you. Show them the way. I tell you nothing good can come of it: the wolf won’t care a tinker’s whistle for them if any real danger comes along. Our men will find themselves at his mercy.”

  Bela shuffled his feet and looked to the Elder. “The bargain we sealed with Hector makes us allies,” he said. “Hector promised no easy answers; indeed he warned that the going would be rough. He was as mistrustful of our intent as you are of his, now.”

  “It’s not his intent that disturbs me,” said Elon. “I’m sure he made the promise in good faith. But he is still a Dweller, when all is said and done. And it is as a Dweller we must eye him.”

  Assan looked at his brother. “Even if this Hector is as good as his word, as Bela insists, do we want our expedition to be led by a Dweller? Our men will have Mustapha to help guide them through the rough spots. He can glide and watch as no wolf could.”

  “But what does a hawk know of Deep-Forest?” said Bela. “Those hinterlands of the wood are as alien to him as they are to us. But a wolf — he would know them well, would see the pitfalls long before a man or a bird.”

  A deepening shadow of thunderclouds darkened the chamber. A low rumble came from far off. The men sat still as the winds began to blow.

  “I don’t like any of this,” said Sean at length. “It may be one thing to have the wolves stand beside us when we battle the dogs, but this — it’s quite another matter. Far better to let Desmond take charge of the expedition as he sees fit.”

  “And he will, I assure you!” answered the Counsel. “Hector has agreed to act as a guide, and only as a guide. All final decisions will still be Desmond’s to make.”

  Elon rubbed at his chin; he sat thoughtfully for a moment. “Nigel should never have done this,” he said after a while. “At the least he should have brought the matter up with me. And why you went along with it, I’ll never know. But we can’t change what’s already happened, can we? And if we were to refuse Hector’s offer it might make the wolves suspicious of us. First we implore their aid, then we turn around and spurn it. And right now making them wary of us is the last thing I want. They must believe they can trust us implicitly.”

  “We need their goodwill, that’s certain,” said Assan. “Rather than lose it, I’d make the best of it and let Hector go along.”

  “Why not just cancel the expedition?” asked Sean. “That way no one will be offended.”

  Elon shook his head. “There is too much at stake here,” he said. “We’re committed to make at least the effort to break out of the forest. But tell me, what does Captain Desmond say about all this! Is he willing to have a wolf escort?”

  Assan and Bela glanced blankly at the Elder.

  “He hasn’t been told yet,” said Bela.

  “Well, hadn’t you better tell him?” Elon said gruffly. “He’s the one who’ll have to deal with Hector. And I’ll tell you this much: if Desmond has misgivings because of this, I’ll think again about letting this venture proceed as planned. Now where is Desmond! I want him brought here right away.”

  “I think he’s out at the parade field,” said Sean. “He wanted to spend his last days here in helping to train some of the new recruits.”

  “Well, I’m putting this entire matter in his hands. He’ll make the decision whether to go or not. Now if someone will be good enough, please have the guards go out and get him.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Des was lecturing a group of twenty raw recruits.

  “I have a question, Captain. You’ve told us about choosing our specialty, but what can you tell us about what to do when we actually come face to face with the enemy?” one asked.

  Des thought for a moment. “A good question,” he said. “The best advice I can give is never take your eyes from your adversary. Show him you’re as tough and determined as he is. Keep that contact at all times. He’ll probably try to throw you off, scratch with his paws in the dirt, snarl, dart his head. But don’t be fooled. He’s testing you. The moment you lose that contact he’ll pounce, spring like a leopard. And don’t underestimate him. He can knock you off balance before you take a breath. And once you’re down, you’re out. Even a Scout senses the slightest tinge of fear in a man, and he’ll capitalize on it.”

  “But what if you are frightened, Captain? How do you hide it?”

  Des smiled. “It’s not an easy thing to master, especially when your knees are quivering and your face is covered with sweat. Believe me, I know. But as you gain experience you’ll be able to fool him. Remember, you’re still bigger than he is, taller, and probably even stronger. And you won’t be alone. Fresh recruits are always put on patrol with a squad of seasoned veterans. They won’t let you down. On the battlefield your companions are your brothers. You look out for each other. If one man finds himself in trouble the rest will come to his aid. That’s what being a soldier is all about, Regular or Guardsman.”

  Another recruit raised his hand. “Is it true that every Guardsman fights with his own bird?”

  Des laughed. “No, that’s an old wives’ tale. Like the ones about half-men, half-dogs living in the forest. The birds are our only friends in the wood, as I’m sure you know. We trust them, and we need th
em. But only a few fight beside us.

  “Our fighting birds consist, for the most part, of hawks and falcons. They’re our eyes in the sky, and are as cunning and intelligent as any Dweller you’re likely to come across.

  “Now falcons are smaller than hawks, but what they lack in size they make up in strength. A swift falcon has been known to gouge the eyes of a dog while still in flight. They swoop in low and stay until the job is done. They’re truly fearless, even alone, and you can trust them with your life.

  “Hawks, on the other hand, are more of a Deep-Forest sort. They glide at terrific heights, and can see better than any other. A good hawk can pinpoint an approaching Scout more than half a league away.

  “But don’t think of birds only in military terms. All birds, ravens, parrots, you name it, are our friends. They spy for us in the wood, report anything and everything that we should know. Many birds even act as advisors, counsels, if you will, and we take their advice seriously. We count on them and they count on us; it’s mutual, to both of our advantages.”

  “But in the final analysis, it’s only yourselves that make the difference in battle. Learn your lessons well.”

  “Captain,” said Merry, the Eastland youth, “one last thing. We know the dogs have fled from the West-land, but most folk are saying they’ll be back, that total war is coming.”

  Des’s smile turned sour; he nodded darkly. “I won’t lie to you,” he said. “All our birds are reporting large-scale movements in the forest.”

  “And if they’re right,” huffed drill instructor Dunbar, “we’ll be waiting and ready, like we always are.”

  Des started to speak, then thought better of it. The general population had yet to be told of the Master’s gathering hordes, and telling these recruits now might do more harm than good. In any case they would find out soon enough anyway. “Dunbar’s right,” he said at last. “Whatever they can throw against us we can meet. War is only a word that politicians use. A professional soldier lives with it every day of his life. Each time he sights a single Pack or even a single warrior, it’s war.”

  Des finished on that somber note and stepped back. Dunbar saluted him smartly and faced his recruits. “Well, now you’ve heard what being a Guardsman is all about,” he said. “And I know Captain Desmond has other, more important duties to attend to.”

  Des nodded. “Good luck to you all,” he said honestly. “And the next time we meet I hope to see most of you wearing blue.”

  “With that he turned from the field and walked briskly back to the barracks. The rain clouds were directly overhead now: the downpour was about to begin at any moment. He, Rolf, and Basil hurried along the planked, makeshift walkway and headed in the direction of the south gate. As they did, a silver-tunicked Council guard came sloshing through the mud. Panting, trying to catch his breath, he waved his arms and shouted over at Des. “I’ve been looking for you, Captain. The Elder wants a few words with you.”

  Rolf gave Des a puzzled glance. Des returned it “What’s this all about?” he asked.

  “I have no idea, sir. But he told me to fetch you right away.”

  Des looked up at the blackening sky and sighed. “All right, but let’s be quick. I don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

  *

  “Ah, Captain, we found you at last,” rasped Elon, gesturing for Des to be seated at the end of the Council table.

  Des gave a short bow, then slipped easily into one of the velvet-cushioned chairs. As far as he could recall, this was the first time he had ever been asked to sit at Council. He smiled inwardly. Was Elon going to make him a Lord?

  “Are all your preparations made?” asked Elon. “Have your supplies been readied?”

  Des nodded. “All set,” he answered, “except for the choosing of our mares. But I’ve assigned Commander Lawrence to select them. I think he knows more about horses than I do. Grew up with them, I’m told.”

  “Good, good,” said Elon. But there seemed an uneasiness about him. Des could tell by the slight furrowing of his brows. “Is — is there anything wrong?”

  Elon leaned back and folded his hands. The rain began to splash against the window sills. A couple of servants ran over and shut the shutters tightly. “Have you chosen your bird? The one who’ll escort you?”

  “Yes, Lord. I’m taking Mustapha. I thought of taking a falcon also, but decided against it. Mustapha will be enough.”

  “How would you feel if another Dweller were to accompany you?”

  Des looked puzzled. He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “Another Dweller, Lord? I don’t understand.”

  The Elder frowned. “A wolf, Captain. How would you feel if a wolf were to escort you?”

  Des sat back and blew the air from his mouth. “Do I have a choice?”

  Elon nodded. “Yes.”

  For a few long minutes Des stared blankly into space. To a casual observer it would have seemed he was daydreaming, but actually his mind was racing in military fashion, weighing the pros and cons, balancing them on a mental scale. After a while he looked at Elon and smiled. “Is this Nigel’s doing?” he asked.

  The Elder grinned “Who else?”

  “Is this wolf a good tracker? Can he keep us off the scent of the enemy?”

  “Nigel thinks so. So does Bela.”

  Des pursed his lips. “As I understand matters, the alliance with King Dinjar has already been sealed. And if they’re true to their word, will really help us, then having a wolf-guide could be just what we need. I’ll go on the assumption that Nigel and Bela knew what they were doing, and that this wolf can be trusted.”

  “But that’s the point,” said Elon dryly. “Dinjar’s Packs are due here in a matter of days, but we’re not concerned. If there is to be any sort of trickery we can handle it. Our troops will be ready for any eventuality. But you’ll be lost in the forest, with no army to back you up. If the wolf should turn on you —”

  “I can handle it,” said Des. “But I’m not concerned, either. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Dwellers, it’s their pride in their honor. If Dinjar is pledged to help us, his word won’t be broken. The same goes for this guide. On a journey like this we’ll have to trust each other.”

  Elon relaxed, then nodded slowly. “Well put, Captain. I think you have the makings of a good politician.”

  Des laughed loudly. “Fates forbid!”

  For a moment Elon shared the humor, then grew somber again.

  “But what if we’ve both misjudged,” he said. “What if the wolves are really plotting against us? I’d hate to think I’ve been hoodwinked, but it is possible. And how would you deal with the situation then?”

  Des’s eyes darkened; his face became tight. “No problem,” he said. “If this wolf tries anything — anything to harm us, I mean — I’ll slit his throat. It’s as simple as that.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  That night, Nigel and Lawrence sat pensively in Nigel’s study waiting for Des to arrive. Their long-awaited journey would begin at dawn.

  “Oh, before I forget,” Lawrence said suddenly, “I’ve brought you something.”

  Nigel watched curiously as the soldier reached inside his tunic and handed him a piece of rolled sheepskin, tied with cord. “What is it?”

  “Let’s just say I borrowed it from the Officers’ Library. It’s an early map drawn by Ciru. It’s supposed to show the route he planned to take.”

  Nigel eagerly untied the cords, then with a sweep of his hand flung assorted papers from the top of his desk. He spread it out carefully and brought over another candle. The ink was somewhat faded, but discernible.

  “This was his point of departure,” said Lawrence, planting his forefinger in the middle of the map. “And from there he planned to follow this line.” His finger followed a thin red line marked on the map.

  “A direct northern trail,” remarked Nigel, more impressed with the historic value of the map than with the scant information it revealed.

 
Nigel studied it intensely, nodding from time to time. “It might be useful,” he said after a while, “and any information is better than none.”

  Lawrence’s face darkened; his eyes darted about the room. Then he leaned close to Nigel and spoke in a very low voice. “I’ll tell you something,” he said. “But it’s never to be repeated.”

  Nigel nodded. “You can trust me.”

  Lawrence bit his lip; he seemed pensive. “Ciru wasn’t the first, nor was he the last. A number of Guardsmen, particularly officers, have made quick forays into the wood. They usually claim it’s only been in hot pursuit of the enemy. But that isn’t true. No matter how much they’d deny it, there isn’t a single soldier who hasn’t dreamed of foraging into the forest and finding out what it’s like.”

  “But the Decree,” protested Nigel, “the ban against entering the wood —”

  “Decree be damned,” snapped Lawrence. “We’d never learn enough about the Dwellers if we weren’t there at first hand to see what goes on.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  Lawrence nodded grimly. “Once. But I can’t tell you any more. All officers are sworn to secrecy.”

  “Just one last thing then,” said Nigel. “Has Des been in the forest?”

  Lawrence looked deep into his eyes, keeping a somber face. “What do you think?”

  Nigel bellowed with laughter.

  Amused, but not totally surprised, Antonius stayed on his perch and chuckled.

  “But getting back to the map,” said Lawrence, “if we just stick to what Ciru —”

  “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” said Nigel.

  “I am. It means a lot to me, breaking out of the wood.”

  Nigel was pleased, even if a little surprised. But he decided to let Lawrence’s feelings drop for now and get back to more important matters.

  “Do you know where Des is?” he asked.

  Lawrence shrugged. “He’ll be along any time now, I expect. Maybe he found some Lady to entertain in his last hours.”