by Andre Norton
He did not mention the tongue-lashing Snolli had given him. Then he remembered something.
He took a hollow rod about half the length of a man's forearm out of his sleeve.
It was the color of silver, or perhaps of steel. There was a thong handle at one end but otherwise the rod was unremarkable, perfectly plain except for a protuberance on one side. "When the men retrieved the Dragon rider's body they found this."
"Be careful!" Snolli shouted. "You didn't tell me you were dragging that thing with us. It is a terrible weapon!"
Rohan examined the rod curiously, peering into it. "Really? It seems empty to me—"
"You fool. Do you see the stud, just where your forefinger could reach if you had the thong over your wrist, holding the thing? That makes a mist shoot out of the rod. It'll burn the lungs out of anyone unlucky enough to be in the way."
Rohan put the rod down hastily. "I'm sorry, I—"
"You didn't know," Snolli said sarcastically. "There's a lot you don't know."
"Let me put it away for now," Harous said. "It is good to have one of the enemies' great weapons, so that we can study it."
"Nothing to study," Snolli said. Nevertheless, he passed it down the table, where each man who had to handle the thing did so gingerly, and with great caution.
"Let us hope that we can have half your success with the Dragons," Harous said soberly. He unlocked a chest and put the deadly rod into it with a clink of metal. All the assembled began to breathe easier.
"Now," the Lord High Marshal continued, "let us consider two facts I have been pondering while Rohan related his ter- rible story. One, the enemy's camp is on the sea road."
"Yes," Rohan said. "There is a gap between the mountains, where there is a small plain, much like the one our camp occupies."
Harous nodded acknowledgment. "Two, it is very possible that they are not even aware of the narrow pass that, according to the map, would lead us to a spot almost behind them. Surely to their flank."
There was a silence. Then Gaurin spoke. "You are proposing a surprise attack."
"I am. We will split our forces. A small number will go along the sea road, exposing themselves to the most danger—"
"My marines," Rohan said.
Harous nodded. "The assignment is yours. The main body of our forces will make our way through the pass and fall upon them while Rohan has them occupied. The fighting will be fierce, I promise you, but if we have luck on our side, it will all be over with one great battle."
"Tusser like fight," the Bog general said. "We go with Rohan."
"No," Harous said. "I want you to follow the Rendel troops. You will be our reinforcements, if they should be needed."
Tusser started to protest, but Rohan laid a hand on his arm. "Do as he says," he urged quietly. "Harous is a good general and he knows—" Rohan started to say
"human" but stopped in time. "He knows this kind of fighting, under these conditions."
"Snow," Tusser said. He thought for a moment, scowling. "Rohan is right. I do."
"Thank you."
"It is a good plan," Gaurin said thoughtfully, "but aren't you risking all on a single line of attack?"
"I am," Harous returned. "But great danger warrants great risks. Can you think of a better course?"
"I think we should learn more, if we can, about what faces us before we commit ourselves to a battle against the kind of odds Rohan spoke of. And I think we should have an alternate plan, perhaps two, in case our original goes awry."
"We will send out scouts," Harous promised. He went to the flap of the tent and peered out. A bolt of lightning flashed and thunder reverberated through the mountains. Snow blew through the opening, and the sentries posted outside were already covered with it. "Go and get warm," he told them. "Nobody is going to stir while this storm is going on." Gratefully, they saluted and left.
"I suggest that we all find our quarters now, for evening is drawing on. Think of your best men for the unpleasant but important assignment of spying out the enemy. Tomorrow, we will send out the first ones."
Harous could hardly get the generals and their staffs out of the command tent fast enough. His head throbbed and had done so ever since Rohan had told of the killing of a Dragon rider. It could easily have been Flavielle! His heart had nearly stopped, and he breathed again only when Rohan had been quite specific that the one they encountered had been male. One of the soldiers assigned to him brought him his supper, and he ate without tasting. He left the tray; someone would pick it up in the morning. Candles placed here and there in the main area of the tent had lighted the recent deliberations. He pinched out all but one and carried it into his private quarters.
Flavielle waited for him there.
He almost dropped the candle but caught it in time. "How did you get here?" he said.
"I told you. I have powers that others only dream of."
"Are you real? Or am I dreaming you?"
She took the candle from him and put it on the table beside his camp bed. "Find out for yourself," she said. Then she came into his arms. The scent of her perfume enveloped him. Her thin, filmy garment fluttered to the floor.
Later, she propped herself up on one elbow and brushed the hair back from his eyes. "We saw a ship," she said, "and sent out a Dragon. It did not come back."
He told her of Rohan's adventure. Her eyes darkened. "That must have happened while I was occupied with other matters. If I had been there, Shrang would still be alive, and Rohan would be dead." She lay down beside him once more, resting her head on his shoulder. The narrowness of the bed encouraged closeness. "I know this Rohan," she said, an unmistakable edge to her voice. "He is a meddlesome, stupid boy."
"He is the one to whom you offered Power once, isn't he?"
"Yes. Forget him. He does not concern us. Now, tell me of what you and your generals talked about later."
He related the plan for the flanking attack. She listened intently.
"It is a splendid opportunity to turn the ambush against them," she said.
"That's what I was thinking, only I didn't know how I was going to find you to tell you about it."
She smiled then. "You should have trusted me more. Anyway, there will be no battle, no ambush, until the snow stops. And that will last for at least three days. I shall be here with you whenever you want me, during that time."
"I want you."
"But I must go, before you begin your march. There is much to do. Remember, the men must go beneath the frozen river I showed you. I will drop the ice upon them."
"I know. But how shall I escape it?"
"I will wait until you are safely past. And I will shield you when my troops fall upon what is left of your men. You are mine, now, and I will look after you."
"And later, when you have won and Rendel lies open to you?"
"Ah, later. Later I will bestow wonders upon you such as you cannot even begin to imagine."
Harous could not imagine why or how he had ever found the pale, anemic Ashen attractive, or even the warmer-blooded Marcala. Both receded far, far into his distant memory, not to be thought of again except with contempt. Here in his arms was his mate, his counterpart, his equal—the one for whom he had been created. The woman in whose delicate hands he had placed his life and his future.
"You are wonder enough, all by yourself," he told her.
She kissed him.
Ashen twisted the iridescent bracelet tighter on her arm. All her other adornments she had left behind, when she started on this journey except for the
Ash badge. She packed the badge away, for proof if necessary. The bracelet she insisted on wearing. It had once been an artifact of Gaurin's house. She had discovered it by accident, in the ruined city of Gal-inth deep in the heart of the Bog, on the arm of the skeleton of a murdered man. He had been Gaurin's father, though neither of them knew of those terrible circumstances when, instead of claiming the bracelet, he had given it to her, on the occasion of their first meeting.
&nbs
p; "Let this be a pledge between us," he had told her. "If ever you are in need of anything, put this on, think of me, and I will know, and whatever separates us, even if it is half the world or I face an entire army alone, I will overcome all barriers to be at your side."
Ashen dared not issue such a silent plea now, for she knew he would heed it.
Nevertheless, because the bracelet made her feel closer to him, she wore it.
"I think we should make an early stop for the night," Lord Royance said. "The sky is darker than the day suggests, and so I believe there will be snow."
"Can we keep going?" Ashen asked anxiously.
"We may have to wait out a storm, but then we will be back on the way as swiftly as possible."
Already Royance's men were hacking boughs from trees and beginning to construct double lean-tos from them. Interested, she observed how they were made. The flooring was thick and springy and the sloping sides nearly met at the top. They finished hers first, and established her in it. There was plenty of room both for her and her few belongings, and a good quantity of the supplies they had brought with them. Calling on the trail-craft she had learned as a child, she kin- died a little fire where the smoke could escape easily through the roof of her makeshift dwelling. The interior warmed quickly. The boughs were fresh and green—she inhaled their fragrance with pleasure. They would not burn but she ringed the fire with stones anyway, as a precaution.
A few flakes of snow managed to make their way through the opening at the top of her shelter, to fall sizzling into the fire, but where she now lay on a bed of boughs covered with a fur robe, she was snug and warm. She wondered if Gaurin knew the secret of constructing such a convenient thing, and then decided that as a Nordor he did.
They were two days in their temporary camp, and Ashen fretted at the delay.
"We were caught just on the edges of the snowfall," Royance assured her. "It was much worse farther north as you know from the echoes of thunder. But that is a boon," he said before she could cry out in dismay. "With such a storm to contend with, nobody on either side could venture out. Never fear, dear Ashen, I predict that we will arrive in plenty of time before the real hostilities begin."
And you hope to be in the midst of those, she thought, but kept it to herself.
Royance's chief steward, Jervin, had charge of the camp. He was a taciturn man, almost as old as his master and even leaner. Like Royance, he had refused to be left behind though his presence meant that there were only five soldiers to guard them and not the six that Royance had ordered. "I will take care of you,"
Jervin said. And no argument could budge him.
The morning of the third day dawned bright and clear, and both Jervin and
Royance judged that it was safe to take up their journey.
Ashen had never seen working dogs pulling sleds before. Contrary to what she imagined, they did not have to be forced to their task. Rather, they seemed to be laughing, with open mouths and lolling tongues as they leaped eagerly into their harness, ready to go. Indeed, they had to be restrained lest they run away before the men could put the dogs' coats and mittens on, dragging the empty sleds behind them. Once the conveyances were loaded, Ashen rode on the one where the food and other supplies had been arranged to allow her to be as comfortable as possible. Most of the time Royance stood just behind her, guiding the sled by putting out his foot from time to time and nudging it in one direction or the other. Jervin had charge of the other, and the rest of the men took turns riding or trotting behind. Now and then, they halted to rest the dogs, who didn't seem to need it, and to let the guards catch up. To Ashen's relief—and she had to admit, her hidden amusement—Jervin bullied his master into riding now and then on the other sled, taking his turn resting like the others. None of the men would allow him to run along behind though he insisted that he was fully able, despite his years.
"It is not seemly," Jervin said, and that was that.
If they had not been on a serious errand, Ashen would have greatly enjoyed the adventure, particularly the spectacle of the dignified Head of the Council of
Rendel reliving his youth. She settled for taking each moment as it came.
Sooner than she had dared hope, the stockade fence surrounding the camp came into view. "Oh, faster, faster!" she cried to Royance. "We must get there now}"
"In good time," the old nobleman said, but he whistled to the dogs and they redoubled their efforts.
As they approached the gate of the stockade, however, Ashen sensed at once that something was badly amiss inside. The place was too quiet. Perhaps the enemy had fallen upon them, killed them all—
"Oh, no," she whispered. She put the back of her hand to her mouth. The gesture reminded her of the bracelet and she pressed her lips against it. "Gaurin,
Gaurin," she murmured. "If you are still—"
She couldn't finish the thought.
Then, as if by a miracle, he was there, coming through the gate. She threw back the fur robe and scrambled free of the sled, slipping and sliding in the snow as she ran to him. He hurried to her no less quickly and caught her in his arms just as she fell.
"You live, you live," she said brokenly, her face buried in his shoulder.
"Yes, my Ashen. I am unharmed." He kissed her hair where her hood had fallen back on her shoulders. "My Lord Royance. What brings you and my wife to this dangerous place? I thought you remained safe in Rendelsham, with the King."
"Ashen has news you must hear. And she would not be stopped from coming to tell you herself, so I escorted her."
Ashen pulled herself free enough so that she could look up at him. "You must be careful," she said tensely, her words pitched so that only he could hear. "I fear there is a traitor in your midst."
His eyebrows drew together and a single deep line etched itself between them. "A traitor."
"Yes. Please, if you have not yet fought, do not go out against them, not until the traitor has been uncovered."
"We still need to prove the charges," Royance cautioned.
"I need no further proof than what I have already. Oh, Gaurin, please. Do not face the enemy, not yet."
"You are too late, my Ashen. The battle was yesterday. We gave good account of ourselves and it is too soon yet to tell, but I fear that we have lost."
Nine
An excellent day for a battle." Harous's breath puffed white as he surveyed the assembled troops. The worst of the blizzard had eased during the night, the thunder and lightning ceased, and now the sun shone bright and clear, sparkling on the scattered flakes of snow that continued to fall.
"I am ready to start up the sea-road," Rohan announced. Behind him, his
Sea-Rovers grinned behind their shields and each took fresh grip on axe and sword. All had wrapped the hilts and handles of their weapons with rawhide, for a better grip. One man, a little ahead of the rest, held Rohan's battle ensign.
Without a stiff breeze to make it flutter bravely, it hung limp.
"At my command," Harous reminded him. "You must give the rest of us time enough to beat through any deep snow in the mountain pass. Then you will engage the enemy long enough for us to fall upon them unexpectedly from the flank."
"Count on me, sir." Rohan put his hand on Keltin's head and the war-kat began a noisy purr. On his other side, Bitta nudged up to be noticed as well.
Harous turned to Gaurin. "I have searched out the mountain pass," he said, "and
I will lead our forces the best way to go."
Gaurin raised his eyebrows slightly. He had not personally explored this part of the area as Harous claimed to have done, but he knew mountains. Harous, however, was the ranking officer and Gaurin could tell that the marshal, for all his length of experience in arms, could scarcely hold himself back, driven by his eagerness to engage the enemy.
Leaving behind the noncombatants—the cooks, the physicians, the laundresses and a few other women who had trailed along behind their men—the Four Armies of
Rendel marched ou
t, each under its own flag. Someone had put together a guidon of sorts for the Bog-men, brownish-green with a device of a lupper daubed on it, and one of the warriors carried it proudly. Though they had come with war-drums, as had the other armies, these had been left behind on the generals' express orders. Stealth was the order for the day.
The vanguard, composed of the generals and officers, expected to take the brunt of the attack. Eight war-kats deigned to accompany them and paced alongside with enormous dignity—Gaurin's two, Rajesh and Finola, and those in the charge of
Hynnel, Cebastian, and Steuart. Just behind the vanguard came the Nordor armsmen, and behind them, the Rendelians.