“I’ve heard the name,” he said. “Can’t say I know them.”
“Anyway, she was here visiting a lady of King Swyddned’s court—an old friend—when Morgarath’s force attacked.”
Gilan frowned once more. “How did they accomplish that?” he wanted to know. “The cliffs and the Fissure are impassable. You couldn’t get an army down the cliffs, let alone across the Fissure.”
The cliffs rose from the far side of the Fissure to form the boundary between Celtica and the Mountains of Rain and Night. They were sheer granite, several hundred meters in height. There were no passes, no way up or down—certainly not for large numbers of troops.
“Halt says no place is ever really impassable,” Will put in. “Particularly if you don’t mind losing lives in the attempt.”
“We ran into a small party of Celts escaping to the south,” the girl said. “They told us how the Wargals managed it. They used ropes and scaling ladders and came down the cliffs by night, in small numbers. They found a few narrow ledges, then used the scaling ladders to cross the Fissure.
“They picked the most remote spot they could find, so they went undetected. During the day, those already across the Fissure hid among the rocks and valleys until they had the entire force assembled. They wouldn’t have needed many. King Swyddned didn’t keep a large standing army.”
Gilan made a disapproving sound and caught Will’s eye.
“He should have. The treaty obliged him to. But remember what we said about people growing complacent? Celts would rather dig in their ground than defend it.” He gestured for the girl to continue.
“The Wargals overran the townships and mines—the mines in particular. For some reason, they wanted the miners alive. Anyone else, they killed—if they didn’t get away in time.”
Gilan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Pordellath and Gwyntaleth are both totally deserted,” he said. “Any idea where the people have gone?”
“If they’re alive, they’ve gone south,” she told him. “The Wargals seem to be driving them that way.”
“Makes sense, I suppose,” Gilan commented. “Keeping them bottled up in the south would prevent word getting out to Araluen.”
“That’s what the captain of our escort said,” Evanlyn agreed. “King Swyddned and most of his surviving army retreated to the southwest coast to form a defensive line. Any Celts who managed to get away from the Wargals have joined him there.”
“And what about you?” Gilan wanted to know.
“We were trying to escape back to the border when we were cut off by a war party,” she told them. “Our men held them off while my lady and I escaped. We were almost clear, but her horse stumbled and they caught her. I wanted to go back for her, but she screamed at me to get away. I couldn’t…I wanted to help her but…I just…”
Tears began to cascade down her cheeks once more. She didn’t seem to notice, making no attempt to wipe them away, just staring silently into the fire as the horror of it all came back to her. When she spoke once more, her voice was almost inaudible.
“I got clear and I turned back to watch. They were…they were…I could see them…” Her voice died away. Gilan reached forward and took her hand.
“Don’t think about it,” he said gently and she looked up at him, gratitude in her eyes. “I take it that after…that…you got away into the hills?”
She nodded several times, her thoughts still vivid with the terrible scenes she had witnessed. Will and Horace sat in silence. Will glanced at his friend and a look of understanding passed between them. Evanlyn had been lucky to escape.
“I’ve been hiding ever since,” she said quietly. “My horse went lame about ten days back and I turned him loose. Since then, I’ve kept moving back toward the north by night and hiding by day.” She indicated Bart and Carney, sitting trussed like two captive chickens on the far side of the clearing. “I saw those two a few times, and others like them. I didn’t make myself known to them. I didn’t think I could trust them.”
Carney assumed a hurt look. Bart was still too dizzy from the crack Horace had given him with the flat of his sword to be taking any interest in the proceedings.
“Then I saw you three earlier today from across a valley and I recognized you as King’s Rangers—well, two of you, anyway,” she amended. “All I could think was ‘Thank God.’”
Gilan looked up at her at that, a small frown of concentration creasing his forehead. She didn’t notice the reaction as she went on.
“It took me most of the day to reach you. It wasn’t far as the crow flies, but there was no way across the valley that separated us. I had to go the long way around. Then down and up again. I was terrified that you’d be gone by the time I got here. But luckily, you weren’t,” she added, unnecessarily.
Will was leaning forward, elbow on his knee and hand propped under his chin, trying to piece together all she’d told them.
“Why would Morgarath want miners?” he asked of nobody in particular. “He doesn’t have mines, so it doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe he’s found some?” Horace suggested. “Maybe he’s found gold up there in the Mountains of Rain and Night and he needs slaves to dig it out.”
Gilan gnawed thoughtfully at a thumbnail as he considered what Horace had said. “That could be,” he said at last. “He’s going to need gold to pay off the Skandians. Maybe he’s mining his own.”
Evanlyn had sat up a little straighter at the mention of the sea wolves.
“Skandians?” she asked. “Are they in league with Morgarath now?”
Gilan nodded. “They’ve got something cooking,” he told her. “The entire kingdom’s on alert. We were bringing dispatches to King Swyddned from Duncan.”
“You’ll have to go southwest to find him,” Evanlyn replied. Will noticed that she had started a little at the mention of King Duncan’s name. “But I doubt he’ll leave his defensive positions there.”
Gilan was already shaking his head. “I think this is more important than taking dispatches to Swyddned. After all, the main thrust of them was to tell him that Morgarath was on the move. I guess he knows that by now.”
He stood up, stretching and yawning. It was already full dark.
“I suggest we get a good night’s sleep,” he said, “and start back north in the morning. I’ll take first watch, so you can keep my cloak, Evanlyn. I’ll take Will’s when he relieves me.”
“Thank you,” Evanlyn said simply, and all three of them knew she was talking about more than just the use of the cloak. Will and Horace moved to douse the fire as Gilan took his longbow and moved to a rock outcrop that gave him a good view of the track leading to and from their campsite.
As Will was helping Evanlyn arrange a sleeping spot, he heard Carney’s whining voice once more.
“Sir, please, could you loosen these ropes a little for the night? They’re awful tight, like.”
And he heard Gilan’s uncaring “Of course not” as he climbed up onto the rocks to take the first watch.
14
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, OF COURSE, THEY WERE FACED with the problem of what to do with Bart and Carney. The two bandits had spent a supremely uncomfortable night, tied back to back and so forced to sit upright on the stony ground. Several times during the night, Gilan had loosened their bonds for a few minutes to give their cramped muscles a brief respite. He even eventually relented and allowed them a small amount of the party’s food and water. But it was still a very unpleasant experience for them, made even more so because they had no idea what he planned to do with them in the morning.
And, truth be told, neither did Gilan. He had no wish to take them along as prisoners. As it was, they had only four horses, counting the pack horse that had been carrying their camping supplies and would now have to carry Evanlyn as well. He felt that the news of Morgarath’s puzzling foray into Celtica should be taken back to King Duncan as soon as possible, and dragging two prisoners along on foot would slow them down immeasurably. In addition
, he was already considering the idea that he might push on ahead at top speed, allowing the other three to follow at their own pace. He knew the clumsy pack pony would never keep up with Blaze’s mile-eating lope.
So, faced with these two problems, he frowned to himself as he ate breakfast, allowing himself the luxury of a second cup of coffee from their dwindling supply. After all, he thought, if he did go on ahead, it was the last coffee he’d see for some days. After a while he glanced up, caught Will’s eye and beckoned him over.
“I’m thinking of pushing on ahead,” he said quietly. Instantly he saw the look of alarm in Will’s eyes.
“You mean alone?” Will asked, and Gilan nodded.
“This is vital news, Will, and I need to get it to King Duncan as soon as possible. Aside from anything else, it means that there’ll be no reinforcements coming from Celtica. He needs to know that.”
“But…” Will hesitated. He looked around the little campsite as if searching for some argument against Gilan’s idea. The tall Ranger was a comforting presence. Like Halt, he always seemed to know the right thing to do. Now, the thought that he was planning to leave them created a sense of near-panic in Will’s mind. Gilan recognized the self-doubt that was racking the boy. He stood and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s walk a little,” he said, and they began to pace away from the campsite. Blaze and Tug glanced up curiously as they passed, then, realizing they weren’t required, went back to cropping the sparse vegetation.
“I know you’re worried about what happened with those four Wargals,” Gilan said. Will stopped walking and looked up at him.
“Halt told you?” he said. There was a note of doubt in his voice. He wondered what Halt had said about his behavior. Gilan nodded gravely.
“Of course he told me. Will, you have nothing to be ashamed of, believe me.”
“But, Gil, I panicked. I forgot all my training and I—”
Gilan held up a hand to stop the torrent of self-recrimination that he sensed was about to pour out.
“Halt says you stood your ground,” he said firmly. Will shuffled his feet.
“Well…I suppose so. But…”
“You were scared but you didn’t run. Will, that’s not cowardice. That’s courage. That’s the highest form of courage. Weren’t you scared when you killed the Kalkara?”
“Of course,” Will said. “But that was different. It was forty meters away and attacking Sir Rodney.”
“Whereas,” Gilan finished for him, “the Wargal was ten meters away and coming straight at you. Big difference.”
Will wasn’t convinced. “It was Tug who saved me,” he said. Gilan allowed himself a grin.
“Maybe he thought you were worth saving. He’s a smart horse. And while Halt and I aren’t nearly as smart as Tug, we think you’ve got what it takes too.”
“Well, I’ve been beginning to doubt it,” Will said. But for the first time in some weeks, he felt his confidence lift a little.
“Then don’t!” Gilan said forcefully. “Self-doubt is a disease. And if it gets out of control, it becomes self-fulfilling. You have to learn from what happened with those Wargals. Use the experience to make you stronger.”
Will thought about Gilan’s words for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
“All right,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”
Gilan studied him for a moment. There was a newfound determination in the boy’s stance.
“I’m going to leave you in command,” he said. “There’s no point now in continuing with the mission, so follow on behind me to Araluen as quickly as you can.”
“To Redmont?” Will asked, and Gilan shook his head.
“By now, the army will be on the move to the Plains of Uthal. That’s where I’m heading and that’s where Halt will be. We’ll go over the map before I leave and plan the best route for you.”
“What about the girl?” Will asked. “Should I bring her along or leave her somewhere safe once we’re back in Araluen?”
Gilan considered the point for a moment. “Bring her. The King and his advisers may want to question her some more. She’ll be in the middle of the Araluen army, so she’ll be as safe as anywhere else.”
He hesitated, then decided to share his suspicions with Will. “There’s something else about her, Will,” he began.
“You think her story isn’t quite right?” Will interrupted. “She keeps hesitating and stopping, as if she’s afraid to tell us something.” Another thought struck him and he lowered his voice instinctively, even though the campsite was well out of earshot. “You don’t think she’s a spy, do you?”
Gilan shook his head. “Nothing so dramatic. But remember when she said she saw us and thought, ‘Thank God they’re Rangers’? Ordinary people don’t think that way about us. Only the nobles are comfortable around Rangers.”
Will frowned. “So you think…” He hesitated. He wasn’t sure what Gilan thought.
“I think she may be the lady and she’s assumed her maid’s identity.”
“So on the one hand, she sees Rangers and is glad, then she doesn’t trust us enough to tell us the truth? It doesn’t make sense, Gil!” Will said. Gilan shrugged.
“It may not be that she doesn’t trust us. She may have other reasons for not saying who she really is. I don’t think it’s a problem for you. I just think you should be aware of it.”
They turned and began to walk back to the camp.
“I don’t like to leave you in the lurch,” Gilan said. “But you’re not exactly unarmed. You’ve got your bow and your knives, and of course, there’s Horace.”
Will glanced across to where the muscular apprentice was sharing a joke with Evanlyn. As she threw back her head and laughed, he felt a small pang of jealousy. Then he realized that he should be glad to have Horace along with him.
“He’s not bad with that sword of his, is he?” he said. Gilan shook his head in admiration.
“I’d never tell him, because it doesn’t do a swordsman any good to have an inflated opinion of himself, but he’s a lot better than not bad.” He looked down at Will. “That’s not to say you should go looking for trouble. There may still be Wargals between here and the border, so travel by night and hide up in the rocks by day.”
“Gil,” Will said, as an awkward thought struck him. “What are we going to do about those two?” He jerked a thumb toward the two bandits, still tied back to back, still trying to doze off and still jerking each other awake as they did so.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” said the Ranger. “I suppose I could hang them. I do have the authority. After all, they did try to interfere with officers on the King’s business. And they’re looting in time of war. They’re both capital offenses.”
He cast his gaze around the rocky hills surrounding them. “The question is whether I can actually do that here,” he murmured.
“You mean,” said Will, not liking the way his friend was thinking, “you may not have the authority to hang them now that we’re not in the kingdom itself?”
Gilan grinned at him. “I hadn’t considered that. I was actually thinking that it’d be a bit difficult when there isn’t a tree over a meter high within a hundred kilometers.”
Will heaved a small inner sigh of relief as he realized Gilan hadn’t been serious. Then the Ranger’s grin faded and he said warningly:
“The one thing I do know is that we don’t want them coming after you three again. So make no mention of my plans until we’ve gotten rid of them, all right?”
In the end, the solution was a simple one. First, Gilan had Horace break the blade of Carney’s sword by levering it sharply between two rocks. Then he hurled Bart’s cudgel into the ravine by the road’s edge. They heard it clattering and bouncing off the rocky slope for several seconds.
Once that was done, Gilan forced the two men to strip to their underwear.
“You needn’t watch this,” he told Evanlyn. “It won�
�t be a pretty sight.”
Smiling to herself, the girl retreated inside the tent while the two men stripped down to their ragged underpants. They were shivering now in the cold mountain air.
“And your boots,” Gilan ordered, and the two men sat awkwardly on the stony ground and removed their boots. Gilan nudged the piles of clothing with one toe.
“Now bundle ’em up and tie them in a ball with your belts,” he ordered, and watched as Bart and Carney complied. When all was ready, he called Horace over and jerked a thumb at the two bundles of clothes and boots.
“Send ’em after the cudgel, Horace,” he ordered. Horace grinned as he began to understand. Bart and Carney understood too and started a chorus of protest. It stopped as Gilan swung an icy stare upon them.
“You’re getting off lightly,” he told them in a cold voice. “As I mentioned to Will earlier, I could hang you if I chose to.”
Bart and Carney instantly went quiet, then Gilan gestured for Horace to tie them up again. Meekly, they submitted, and in a few minutes they were back to back again, shivering in the keen wind that circled and dipped around the hills. Gilan considered them for a moment or two.
“Throw a blanket over them,” he said reluctantly. “A horse blanket.”
Will obliged, grinning. He took care not to use Tug’s blanket, but used the one belonging to the sturdy pack pony.
Gilan began to saddle Blaze, speaking to the others over his shoulder. “I’m going to scout around Gwyntaleth. There may be someone there who can shed a little more light on what Morgarath is up to.” He looked meaningfully at Will and the apprentice realized that Gilan was saying this to throw the two bandits off. He gave a slight nod.
“I should be back about sunset,” Gilan continued loudly. “Try to have something hot waiting for me then.”
He swung up into the saddle and beckoned Will closer. Leaning down, he whispered: “Leave those two tied up and head off at sunset. They’ll eventually get themselves loose, but then they’ll have to retrieve their boots and clothes. They won’t go anywhere in these mountains without them. It will give you a day’s start over them and that should take you clear.”
The Burning Bridge Page 10