by Alexey Pehov
“But we don’t know you,” Lucky muttered rather disagreeably. “We’ve never met.”
“You’re mistaken, honorable sir! Late summer, at Mole Castle. Do you remember now?”
“No.”
“I was in Milord Gabsbarg’s retinue. Agh! Listen, you’re the lad who pinned Meilo Trug to the ground!” said the soldier, talking to Lamplighter now.
“Well, yes,” Mumr admitted reluctantly.
“Hey! Lads!” the soldier yelled, loud enough for the whole barracks to hear, attracting everybody’s attention to us. “This is the master of the long sword I was telling you about. He wiped the floor with Trug in Kind Soul Castle!”
And then it began! Apparently every soldier in the kingdom had heard about Lamplighter’s heroic exploits. Anyway, a dense crowd gathered round our table, and every man was trying to pat Mumr on the shoulder. Those who couldn’t reach Mumr made do with me or Hallas, as if the gnome and I had also swung double-handed swords around in the courtyard of Algert Dalli’s castle during that memorable duel at the Judgment of Sagra. Hallas even thawed a bit and started grinning when he found himself the center of attention.
The lad wearing Gabsbarg’s crest was almost busting a gut as he told the story of the duel for the hundredth time. The men listened delightedly. A gray-haired veteran squeezed his way through the crowd besieging our table from all sides. He had a massive two-hander nestling on his shoulder, and the gold oak leaf was clearly visible on the hilt. A master of the long sword. The warrior bowed respectfully. Mumr kept up the good tone and replied with a bow of his own.
The warrior respectfully requested Mr. Lamplighter, when he had the time, of course, to give him a few lessons. Mumr agreed. Hallas grunted and hinted rather casually that it would be rather nice to have some beer, maybe. One of the young soldiers went dashing out of the barracks and less than five minutes later we had several potbellied mugs of beer standing in front of us.
Ah, darkness! In all that wandering around Zagraba I’d forgotten what beer tasted like. So I just relished it, leaving Hallas, surrounded by eager listeners, to get on with telling his tall stories. Puffed up with pride, the gnome told the whole world how he had singlehandedly dragged me out of the Labyrinth and how—with this very mattock—he had nailed ninety-eight orcs and one h’san’kor in the Golden Forest. He was just bullshitting with the number of orcs, of course, but they believed him. How could they not believe him, when as proof he showed them an absolutely genuine horn from the forest monster?
By the end of this epic tale every soldier in the barracks would have walked through fire for the gnome. I was sure that in three days’ time the entire army would know Hallas’s fairy tales. The gods be praised that he didn’t think of throwing in a dragon and a princess just to round things off.
I was beginning to catch inquiring glances directed my way. Probably some of those present assumed that since I was traveling with highly respected daredevils like Hallas and Deler, I was a legendary hero, too, and at the very least I must have wrung the Nameless One’s neck with my bare hands. If the lads had only known that I’d walked right through Hrad Spein and now I had the Rainbow Horn in my bag, they would have been absolutely convinced that we were three great heroes from the Gray Age.
The gnome was working his way into his third mug of beer and he hadn’t stopped talking for a moment. I seized my chance to attract the attention of Gabsbarg’s soldier.
“How did you end up here?” I asked him.
“I’m an adjutant now, and milord’s personal envoy!” the lad replied proudly. “I was sent here to get help.”
“Help? Has something happened to the baron?”
“Baron?” the soldier chortled. “Think again, my friend!”
But just then, as bad luck would have it, Kli-Kli showed up.
“Wind it up, Egrassa wants us!”
Everybody wished us good luck, and started thumping us on the back all over again. When I eventually followed the gobliness out through the crowd, my shoulders were aching.
“Where are you taking us?” I asked Kli-Kli.
“Somewhere a bit quieter. Where we can talk properly,” she answered.
“You mean Egrassa doesn’t want us?” the gnome asked with a frown.
“Of course not!”
“What did you want to talk to us about?”
“Lots of things. I’ve found out a thing or two that you’ll find interesting. Eel’s already waiting for us.”
“What about Egrassa?”
“He was invited to dine with the commandant.”
“Which means that everything’s been settled?”
“I’ve always said our Dancer was an absolute genius!” Kli-Kli chuckled as she led us out into the courtyard.
“And this is what you call privacy?”
“At least here no one will take any notice of us. Will there be any more questions?”
“What’s that sack you’re lugging about? Are you sure you won’t rupture yourself?”
“You worry about yourself,” she snorted. “Anyway, we’re here.”
The gobliness led us over to a building, casually kicked the door open, and we walked into a spacious room. Eel was enthroned at a table, gnawing on a chicken leg. And I should say that there was certainly plenty of food.
“My, aren’t you doing well! Who paid for all this?” said Hallas, asking the question closest to the heart of every gnome.
“No one. Milord Commandant was so kind as to provide us with food from his own table and give us a room, while Egrassa dines in the company of His Grace. Do join me in the feast.”
“Well, actually, we already ate in the barracks,” said the gnome, trying halfheartedly to decline.
“All right, that’s up to you. There’ll be all the more for me.”
At that Hallas rubbed his hands together and walked straight to the table.
“All right, you lot eat your fill, and I’ll tell you about what’s happened in Valiostr while we were walking through Zagraba. Eel already knows everything. Eat, Hallas, eat. It’s better than we thought.”
“How much better?” I asked Kli-Kli cautiously.
“A lot. The orcs are getting their butts kicked on all fronts!” she informed us with a delighted look on her face.
“Wha-a-at?” Hallas exclaimed, gaping in amazement with his one eye.
“That’s the way of it, my dear gnome. Apparently we’re not such pushovers after all. Somehow we found out about the invasion two days before the war started. Most of the border garrisons had enough time to prepare and they withdrew.”
“Withdrew?” I didn’t quite catch the connection between the words “prepare” and “withdrew.”
“Oh, yes. The Borderland Kingdom’s forces weren’t going to retreat anywhere, but our men pulled back, and the glorious army of Valiostr came to meet them. The Heartless Chasseurs, the Hounds of Fortune, the Unyielding Ones, the Tramps, Gimo’s Clowns, the Loons of Fate, and many, many more. At Upper Otters—a familiar name that, isn’t it? They went into battle at Upper Otters and gave the Firstborn such a thrashing that it took them two days to recover. And by that time our army had vanished into thin air. We fell back again, this time beyond the Iselina. The orcs seemed to lose their senses; they advanced and got another thrashing for their efforts. By this time the northern army had arrived, too. There was a full-scale engagement near Ranneng and the orc army was split into three parts. The first part, the biggest, was driven all the way back to the Border Kingdom, but we don’t know what happened there yet. The remnants of the second part managed to limp back somehow to their beloved Golden Forest, and the third part was caught and surrounded in Margend County, which is only a stone’s throw from here. You can’t imagine how delighted I am! The central army of the orcs has been smashed to smithereens!”
“Mm, yes,” I said, unable to believe my ears. “Is all this definite?”
“Of course it’s definite, blockhead! The commandant himself told Egrassa! The moment he saw
the papers with the royal seal, he turned as smooth as silk. If you don’t believe me, ask Eel.”
This time the valiant army of Valiostr really had proved itself to be valiant, and the nightmare of the Spring War had not been repeated. The enemy had been stopped and thrown back. Ha-ha! That was what you could do with timely information and the northern army of forty thousand men that the king had assembled as a welcoming committee for the Nameless One.
“And how are things with the orcs’ second and third armies?”
“The Borderlanders seemed to be standing firm and they’ll hold out until our forces reach them. So the Firstborn are to be pitied. Soon they’ll clear off back to their Golden Forest and won’t stick their noses out for another three hundred years. They’ll remember a crushing defeat like this for a very long time. As for the third army, that’s all quite simple. The elves have rallied, and the latest information is that the situation in the Black Forest has stabilized. And as for the orcs who attacked Maiding”—Kli-Kli laughed conspiratorially—“they were in for just as big a surprise as the ones who went for Ranneng and ran into the Wild Hearts and the Heartless Chasseurs and the border garrisons. Our lads were expecting them, and then help arrived, and—”
“Wait, Kli-Kli!” Lamplighter interrupted, speaking for the first time. “Where did help come from there?”
“Have you forgotten about our fifteen thousand men permanently stationed on the border with Miranueh?”
“I haven’t forgotten, but I’m sure Miranueh didn’t forget them, either. The whole of the west is under the command of the Carp now.” (This was a disdainful name for the inhabitants of Miranueh.)
“Don’t worry about that! Everything’s just great there as well! Twenty thousand Firstborn advanced against Maiding. The King of Miranueh couldn’t bear the sight of such injustice and he added ten thousand of his pikemen and four thousand cavalry to our fifteen thousand.”
“Wha-a-at!” This time all three of us gaped in amazement.
“Uh-huh. The orcs had really got up His Majesty’s nose one way or another, and His Majesty decided to intervene to help his neighbor to the north.”
“I don’t believe it! I’ll believe anything, but not Miranueh! All these centuries we’ve been squabbling over the Disputed Lands, and then this!”
“Don’t the priests say that you should be generous, Harold?” the gobliness giggled. “Darkness only knows what made the king of Miranueh act so generously at just the right moment, but our own obliging Stalkon bowed gratefully and handed Miranueh the Disputed Lands.”
Hallas choked on his wine and started coughing. Eel thumped the gnome on the back.
“No great loss. All those years spent haggling over twenty leagues of swampy land that’s no good to anyone … Only northerners would do that sort of thing.…”
“Well, in Garrak you’ve got plenty of land to spare, but it’s in short supply up here,” said Lamplighter, springing to the defense of his native kingdom. “But what’s done is done. So the orcs were driven back from Maiding?”
“Not just driven back, but surrounded and wiped out!” the gobliness positively sang. “Victory on all fronts! And the allied army didn’t stop at that, it went into the Black Forest, to help our brothers the elves. If our generals have any brains at all, they’ll clear the Firstborn out of the Golden Forest completely.”
“For which—three cheers,” said Hallas, raising his glass.
“So the ones who attacked Moitsig were a surviving fragment of the central army?”
“No, Mumr. They were lured out of Zagraba. Our soldiers were lucky, they picked up the clan chief of the Grun Ear-Cutters himself as he and his rabble were making their way back to their native forest. And they strung him up on the city gates, as a lesson to anyone who doesn’t want to stay quietly at home in the Golden Forest. And those young pups didn’t understand the message and crept out under the eye of Sagra. They wanted to retrieve the body. Well, they were massacred.… Right, Harold. And now for you. While you were cooling your heels in the barracks, I managed to run a couple of errands and pick up a few things.” And so saying, the gobliness reached into the sack and set a crossbow on the table, together with twenty short bolts. “There … without a decent weapon you’ll soon pine away.”
I picked up the crossbow. Of course, it wasn’t my little beauty, the one I’d left behind in Hrad Spein, but it wasn’t bad at all. I used to have one just like it before. A “wasp”—a light weapon, and very reliable.
“Where did you get it?”
“I filched it, of course. From their armory,” she said, bursting with pride.
“And what if they catch me with it now?” I chuckled, amazed at Kli-Kli’s sheer cheek in stealing a weapon from right under a soldier’s nose.
“If they catch you, Dancer, then you’ll have to deal with it. I’ve done my bit. All the rest is your problem.”
“Thanks a lot, Kli-Kli,” I said sarcastically to my “benefactress.”
“Don’t mention it,” she answered in the same tone of voice, and grinned gleefully. “And by the way, all of you, better get those jaws working, I’ve still got to take you to get some warm clothes. Winter’s almost here, and you’re still prancing about in those rags.”
“Are we all going thieving together?” Hallas inquired, rolling his one eye.
“You have a very poor opinion of goblins, Lucky,” the gobliness said resentfully. “Why do we have to go thieving? Egrassa’s settled everything with the commandant. All we have to do now is pick up some warm things and we can hit the road. When we reach Avendoom, the real frosts will start to bite, and then all of you will say thank you to the little goblin, yes you will, for the nice warm clothes, because, if not for me, you would all have frozen to death.”
“I thought you just said that Egrassa made the arrangements for the clothes, not you,” Eel remarked innocently.
“But who do you think told him?” Kli-Kli asked spitefully.
“You told me,” Egrassa replied as he walked into the room. “Get ready, there’s an armed detachment leaving Moitsig in an hour. We’ll leave with them.”
“Why with them?” Hallas asked with a scowl. “Are we likely to lose our way?”
“You’re forgetting that although the orcs have been routed, the chances of running into scattered units of Firstborn are still very high. Would you like to lose your second eye, too?”
The gnome’s answer to that was to brag that he’d like to see the orcs try to get anywhere near him, and that if they did, a certain mattock would smash their skulls in for them.
“Are the Moitsig warriors going to Ranneng, too?”
“No, Eel. They’re in a hurry to get to Margend County. Part of the central army of the Firstborn has been surrounded only one day’s journey from here. Neol Iragen’s detachment is going to take part in the forthcoming battle.”
“Are there many orcs?” Lucky inquired, stroking his beard.
“About five and a half thousand.”
“That’s enough for me,” the gnome said with a decisive nod, and Deler’s hat fell down over his eyes. “Why are you all sitting there? Let’s get moving, or they’ll finish off all the orcs without us!”
I would have liked to say that would be for the best, but I kept my mouth shut. Why upset the gnome? Hallas was as happy as a child who’d just been promised a toy.
* * *
We left Moitsig an hour and a half later to loud howls of acclamation from the townsfolk, who were seeing their warriors off on their victorious campaign (no one had any doubt that they would be victorious). The commandant had been kind enough to present us with horses as well as warm clothes.
I’d been given a dark brown stallion with a marked inclination to try to kill his masters. In any case, the beast kept attempting to break into a gallop and dispatch his unfortunate rider directly to his grave. By some cruel jest of the gods, it was a cavalry horse, whose only aim in life was to go dashing forward at breakneck speed, preferably to the sound
of a bugle. After my gentle Little Bee, this example of the equine species filled me with anxiety and creeping horror. It cost me an incredible effort just to hold the hothead back and not tumble out of the saddle. Eel watched with a compassionate expression as I struggled in vain to subdue the demon of frenzied unreason that possessed the horse, until finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and offered to swap horses with me. Before the Garrakian could change his mind, I slipped out of the saddle and mounted a gentle, rather shaggy, and well-fed horse of indeterminate breed.
Now this was a horse that really suited me! She would only run if I wanted her to, or if there was an ogre chasing her.
“What’s she called?” I asked.
“Horse,” said the Garrakian, smiling.
One of the soldiers riding behind us overheard the conversation and roared with laughter. I don’t know what he found so funny.
“All right then, Horse it is,” I chuckled, patting the animal on the neck. “The name really suits her.”
“Look, Harold, over there? Those men over there, in the gray cloaks.”
“The members of the Order, you mean?”
“Those are the ones. It was that six who stopped the orcs at Moitsig.”
“Well, good for them.”
I personally felt no interest at all in the magicians.
But then I wondered what they’d say if they found out about the Rainbow Horn. And for a moment I felt the urge to hand the magical artifact over to them and never have anything more to do with magic again. I had to struggle with myself not to get rid of the Horn there and then.
The road led northward and, according to that know-all Kli-Kli, it would take us directly to Ranneng, but first we had to get past the small county of Margend, which ran along the west bank of the Iselina almost as far as Boltnik.
A detachment of mounted men six hundred strong set out from Moitsig. Two days earlier one and a half thousand heavy infantry from the Cat Halberdiers and the Rollicking Rogues had left the city in the direction of Margend. The Halberdiers had arrived in the city from Maiding immediately after the orcs in that section of the front were routed and forces had to be shifted urgently to the east, toward the Iselina. The Rollickers had been quartered in Moitsig and were spoiling for a fight.