by Joan Wolf
“Why are you crying?” he asked in quick concern when at last she dropped her arms and pulled away. His own eyes were bright with happiness.
She shook her head as if to clear it. “I am crying because you are going away,” she said.
He smiled and took her hand in his. “I will be back,” he said lightheartedly. “Never fear, Siguna. And when I return, you will give me your answer.”
She raised his hand to her cheek and did not answer.
Chapter Thirty-four
We will conceal ourselves in the mountains, then fall upon these outlanders like an avalanche in the spring,” Ronan had told the assembled tribes in the morning. “And like the avalanche, we will sweep them away!”
The men of the Federation roared back their approval.
All during the day, Ronan labored to drill his men in the use of the new shields as well as to organize the march to the River of Gold. The tribes were to leave with the morrow’s dawn, but Ronan did not come to his own bed until long after darkfall.
Crim and Bror had once more offered to give up their places in the hut they shared with Ronan, and Nel sat alone before the small fire she had made to ward off the evening chill, waiting. The scene in the hut was peaceful: Leir and Sintra snoozed comfortably by the door, the small flames of the fire flickered, and the stone lamp shed its warm glow on the unrolled sleeping skins. But there was no peace in Nel’s heart.
It is here, she thought over and over again. It is finally here. Ronan will leave me tomorrow to go out and fight the Horsemasters. He will leave me, and he may not come back. Ever. He may not come back.
I cannot bear it, she thought. If Ronan should die, I cannot bear it.
Worst of all was her own helplessness in this. She could not go with him. She could not stop him—knew it would be wrong to stop him even if she could.
But…never to see Ronan again… “I cannot bear it,” she whispered into the still and unresponsive air.
The minutes went by. Nel had just put another small branch on the fire when the dogs raised their heads. The door skins were pushed up, and Ronan came in alone. The dogs, relieved not to see Nigak, lowered their noses to their paws once more.
Nel, who had sworn not to burden Ronan with her own fears, managed a smile. She said lightly, “You have had a busy day.”
“Sa.” He dropped to the rug beside her and rubbed his forehead in a gesture of fatigue. “Very busy. But I think all is ready now for us to leave.”
Nel looked at him and knew a desperate need to throw herself into his arms, to cling there and weep her heart out. To hold him and never to let him go.
He said, “It is a great nuisance that the scout Tyr captured turned out to be Siguna’s brother. To be frank, if he were anyone else I would simply get rid of him. But I can hardly do that to Siguna’s brother.”
It took a moment for Nel to focus her mind on his words. She frowned. “You wouldn’t just ‘get rid’ of someone else either,” she objected.
He raised a well-defined black brow. “I wouldn’t?”
She shook her head. “That is the difference between the Horsemasters and us. If we behaved like them, then we would be as bad as they are.”
Ronan raised his other eyebrow and seemed to be considering his reply. “Perhaps you are right,” he temporized.
Nel said firmly, “You would never do such a thing.”
Ronan did not look as if he agreed with her. “If he tries to get away, Nel, you cannot be tenderhearted,” he warned. “I cannot afford to have him warning Fenris!”
“I understand that, Ronan. If we have to put a spear into him to hold him, we will.”
Ronan smiled faintly. “Someday remind me to ask you how that differs from simply killing the man out of hand.” Nel opened her lips to answer him, but he raised a hand to forestall her. “I am leaving four of our men to guard Vili until the women of the Red Deer get here.”
“That is not necessary, Ronan,” Nel objected. “You have too few men as it is. Those of us who are here can easily take care of Vili.”
Ronan shook his head. “I am leaving horses for the men,” he explained. “Horsed men will be able to catch up with us before we reach the River of Gold.” He lifted his left hand and brushed her cheek with gentle fingers. “For all your fine words, Nel, I do not think you could kill a man. And you are the only woman present who has been trained to throw a spear.”
That gentle touch almost undid her. She lowered her eyes, swallowed, and said in a low voice, “What men will you leave?”
“Dai, Okal, Kasar, and Lemo.”
She nodded without raising her head.
“Beki and Yoli left for the Great Cave before midday, and they will ride hard. The women or the Red Deer should be here by darkfall tomorrow.”
Once more, Nel nodded.
“Nel,” Ronan said in a slightly different tone, “if we should lose this fight, you must gather the tribe’s women and get back to the valley.”
Nel’s throat went dry.
Ronan went on, “If the Federation should lose, what men are left will do what they can to protect the women and children at the Great Cave. But I want the women of the Wolf to go back to the valley.”
Nel clasped her hands around her knees.
“Are you hearing me, Nel?” Ronan asked. “Collect our women from the Great Cave and keep to the forest, the way we did when you ran away with me. You remember the way.”
Nel said nothing.
“You will be safe in the valley.” Then, when she still did not speak, he said, “Nel, you must promise me that you will do this.”
I can’t, she thought. If you are dead, then I want to die too.
“I owe it to my men to do what is in my power to keep their wives and children safe. If I am not there to do it myself, then you must do it for me.”
Very, very slightly, Nel shook her head.
There was a silence.
“Minnow,” he said very gently, “I cannot go out to fight with an easy mind if there is fear in my heart for you. Promise me you will go back to the valley.”
She struggled to compose her face. At last, she said, “I hear you,” and raised her eyes.
His face looked tense and worried as well as tired. The worry, she knew, was for her. He was right, she thought suddenly. She could not send him off with a divided heart. She held her voice steady. “I will get our women and children to safety, Ronan. I promise.”
Slowly his face relaxed. Then slowly he raised his hands and cupped her cheeks between his long, hard ringers. His calluses were rough against her skin. He bent his head and put his mouth upon hers.
Save him for me, Mother, Nel prayed as her eyes closed and her body swayed toward him. Do not let him die. Save him.
She reached out, slid her arms around his body under his arms, and held to him tightly, her face still upturned to his. After a moment he leaned forward and, without breaking their embrace, laid her back upon their bedplace.
His lovemaking was fierce, a blazing affirmation of life and love performed in the chill shadow of death. After he had fallen asleep, Nel lay awake, cradling jealously in her arms the warm, living flesh that tomorrow might be cold and still.
I cannot live without you, she cried in her heart. Ronan, I cannot. I cannot.
There was nothing she could do.
Ronan had said she was incapable of killing a man. He was wrong. If she had Fenris here right now, within reach of her spear, she would run him through without thought or mercy.
Save him for me, Mother. Do not let him die.
There was nothing she could do.
* * * *
At dawn the following morning, the men of the Federation marched out of the homesite of the Red Deer and moved down the Greatfish River in the direction of the River of Gold. Their destination for the night was the homeplace of the Tribe of the Leopard. From there on the following day they would cut west into the mountains that overlooked the valley of the River of Gold.
The
day’s march went well, and the tribes reached the homesite of the Leopard before darkfall. They ate their supper and rolled up in their sleeping skins for the night. The only disturbance that occurred during the night was the arrival of Okal, Dai, Kasar, and Lemo. They reported to Ronan that a contingent of women of the Red Deer had arrived just after midday to take over the guard on Vili.
The men of the Federation were on the move again by dawn, and by midday they had reached the place where the mountains sloped down to the valley of the River of Gold.
Before them stretched a large crescent-shaped meadow, intersected in the middle by the river. Opposite, on the far side of the meadow and the river, the rugged limestone mountains rose again, thickly studded with trees of pine and birch.
The men of the tribes set up their camp, and Ronan posted a watch on the valley. From their vantage point, the men of the Federation would be able to see the Horsemasters coming downriver long before they had reached the meadow.
The day advanced and still there was no sign of the enemy. The men unrolled their sleeping skins but made no fires. They ate dried meat and fruit washed down with cold water, not tea, and went to sleep.
The moon was almost full. In a few days, the men of the Squirrel would have their ceremony and then be free to come to the aid of the Federation.
Too late, Ronan thought bitterly, as he gazed up at the bright moon, Whether or not there was likely to be a Tribe of the Squirrel ever to hold that ceremony again would depend upon what happened upon this meadow below within the next day or so. For Ronan was in no doubt that the whole future of the mountain tribes hung upon the coming fight.
What to do about the horses? This was the problem that worried Ronan most. He was confident that if he spread his line wide enough, his men could stand their ground against the Horsemasters if the enemy were forced to fight on foot. But if even a small group of them got to their horses and got behind the Federation lines, then there would be real trouble.
Like a shadowy wraith, Nigak threaded his way among the sleeping men to the place where Ronan lay. The wolf had wanted to accompany Ronan, and Nel had insisted that he be allowed to. As Nigak settled down beside him, Ronan’s thoughts turned to his wife. She had promised she would go back to the valley, and he knew he could rely on Nel to keep a promise. The Mother would look after Nel, he thought. Even if the worst happened, and he and all the men perished in this coming fight, Nel and the women could survive in the valley. They could hunt the animals that dwelled within the valley walls if they had to.
His mind reverted to the source of its unrest. What to do about the horses?
Suddenly, he heard Nel’s voice in his mind: Stallions! She had said to him once, with a mixture of impatience and amusement. They are surely the most possessive creatures who ever lived.
When had she said that? He thought, and then he remembered: They had been watching Impero as he herded his mares jealously away from one of his exiled yearling sons who had gotten too close to the herd. Nel had made that remark as she watched the great white stallion nipping ruthlessly at the heels of a mare, most probably the colt’s mother, who wanted to approach him.
Ronan opened his eyes and stared once more up at the moon. He thought of Impero. He thought of Cloud’s instinctive herding behavior during the one raid they had made on Fenris’s mares.
That is it, Ronan thought. The Horsemasters’ herd ran free. All he needed to do was set his young stallions loose upon the herd of mares, and they would do his work for him.
After a few more moments, Ronan closed his eyes on the moon and went to sleep.
* * * *
It was late afternoon the following day when Ronan got the first report that the Horsemasters were coming down the river. Lying encamped in the mountains, the Federation men were able to watch as the huge mass of men and horses came cantering onto the meadow below. Ronan picked Fenris out almost immediately; he was riding in the forefront of his men, a man on either side of him and a smaller group spread out behind. To Ronan’s profound relief, the kain turned his horse toward the river, halted and dismounted. The rest of the Horsemasters followed him, and soon the entire mass of men was dismounted as well. Horses were rubbed down, Pack-horses began to be unpacked and some tents to be set up. The horse-herd was turned loose to drink from the river and graze on the rich meadow grass. Cookfires were lit. The Horsemasters were making camp for the night.
It helped Ronan enormously that Fenris was indeed going to stop for the night on the meadow. If he had not, then Ronan would have altered his plans, but this was best. The Federation forces were already in position here, and as long as they exerted reasonable caution, there was little chance of their presence being noticed.
Ronan’s plan was to attack during the night, when he could count on the Horsemasters being asleep. The day had been clear, and the moon was bright enough to light what needed to be lit for such a venture.
He met with the tribal leaders over their cold suppers.
“We shall have to draw the tribes up into a long line in order to prevent the enemy from getting around behind us,” Ronan said. “That is the thing we must absolutely avoid, giving them the chance to encircle us.”
The faces of the chiefs were grim. Neihle, who was leading the Red Deer men in place of the Mistress, was the one to ask: “What of their horses? If even a few of them reach the horses and get behind us, then we are likely to have panic among our men.”
“I have been thinking of that,” Ronan said. Then he told them what he had decided to do. “Thorn and Mait can drive our stallions into the herd of mares,” he elaborated. “Six handfuls of stallions will be more than enough to create chaos in the herd, I am thinking. No man will be able to get close enough to catch a mount.”
Unwar and Haras grinned.
“Good thinking,” Neihle said tersely.
Young Matti simply nodded his head.
“I have been thinking that I will form our line into the shape of a flying eagle,” Ronan said next. “I want more men in the wings than in the center. If the center cannot hold, it will not be as dangerous as if the wings are broken. The enemy will not be able easily to come behind us from the center, but if the wings are not strong enough we will not be able to contain them.”
There was silence as all the men tried to picture in their minds the formation Ronan had just described.
“Where will each tribe be?” Haras asked.
“The left wing will he the men of the Buffalo, under Haras; the right wing the men of the Leopard under Unwar.” Ronan turned to Neihle. “Uncle, I would like to split the men of the Red Deer and put half in one wing and half in the other.”
Neihle nodded gravely.
“You will command the Red Deer men who are fighting in the left wing,” Ronan said. He hesitated infinitesimally. “And I will command the Red Deer men in the right.”
Unwar made a sharp sound of surprise.
Neihle and Ronan were looking at each other. “The men of the Red Deer will be proud to follow you,” Neihle said at last, slowly and deliberately.
Nigak raised his nose from Ronan’s thigh and pricked his ears forward, as if in acknowledgment of a tribute.
“And the center?” Haras asked.
“The men of the Wolf, led by Bror, and the men of the Fox and the Bear, led by Matti.”
Unwar chewed reflectively on his dried deer meat, then nodded his approval. His heavy-lidded eyes looked around the faces of his fellow chiefs. “We are all of us fighting for our homes, for our wives and for our children,” he said. “Perhaps this is not the place I would have chosen to make our stand, but we are here. This night we will win or we will die; there is no middle way.”
Ronan looked at the Leopard chief in surprise. He had not expected such a sentiment from Unwar.
“Unwar speaks true,” Haras said and bowed his noble head.
A bird called in the silence, a high clear trilling sound in the dying day.
“Get some sleep,” Ronan advised t
hem all. “We will move out in four hours’ time.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Moonlight bathed the world in a glimmer of silvery luminescence. In the nighttime silence, nearly two hundred men lifted their spears and their shields and fell in behind their leaders. Then, still in silence, they began slowly to descend the tree-strewn hill that sloped to the meadow whereupon the Horsemasters lay sleeping in their camp.
Fenris had built big fires to ward off any predators that might be seeking to drink from the river during the night, and Ronan was certain there were men posted to keep watch on both the fires and the surrounding meadow. But no outcry came from the camp. No sentry had seen the men creeping so carefully down the hillside.
When they were almost to level ground, the men of the tribes formed up behind their leaders in the battle positions they had been given. When the quick and silent disposition was finished, the left and the right wings were each four lines deeper than was the center, which was composed only of the men of the Wolf under Bror and the remnants of the Fox and the Bear tribes under Matti.
“I am giving you the toughest job,” Ronan had said to Bror back at camp when he apprised Bror of his plans. “I am asking you to hold the center, and I am not giving you enough men to do it.”
Bror thought of those words now, as he took his place in the front line and looked over his shoulder at the men to his rear. His eyes fell upon Heno, who was directly behind him. Heno grinned and lifted his spear slightly. Bror smiled back and turned around to face forward once more, his heart suddenly swollen with love for these men who formed the fellowship known as the Tribe of the Wolf.
Still nothing stirred in the camp by the river, eerily lit by the leaping fires. Silence enveloped the world. Bror did not know how Thorn and Mait were keeping the horses so quiet, but they were. Then, from the farthest end of the right wing, Ronan’s voice rang out, “Now!”