He headed commando raids against our most vulnerable campsites on the periphery of the main body. Had I known it to be Julian, I would have used his Trump to try to hold him, but I only knew it after the fact.
We’d lost perhaps two thousand men in the abrupt winter, and I didn’t yet know how many Julian had accounted for.
It seemed the troops were beginning to get demoralized, but they followed when we ordered them ahead.
The next day was one continuous ambush. A body of men the size of ours could not be allowed to deviate sufficiently to try to deal with the harassing raids Julian led against our flanks. We got some of his men, but not enough, one for every ten of ours, perhaps.
By high noon we were crossing the valley that paralleled the seacoast. The Forest of Arden was to the north and our left. Amber lay directly ahead. The breezes were cool and filled with the odors of earth and its sweet growing things. A few leaves fell. Amber lay eighty miles distant and was but a shimmer above the horizon.
That afternoon, with a gathering of clouds and but the lightest of rains, the blots began to fall from the heavens. Then the storm ceased and the sun came forth to dry things off.
After a time, we smelled the smoke.
After another time, we saw it, flapping skyward all about us.
Then the sheets of flame began to rise and fall. They moved toward us, with their crunching, constant footsteps; and as they came nearer, we began to feel the heat, and somewhere, way back along the lines, a panic arose. There were cries, and the columns swelled and welled forward.
We began to run.
Flakes of ash were falling about us now, and the smoke grew thicker. We sprinted ahead and the flames rushed even closer. The sheets of light and heat flapped a steady, welling thunder as we ran, and the waves of warmth beat upon us, washed over us. Soon they were right there alongside us, and the trees blackened and the leaves flaked down, and some of the smaller trees began to sway. For as far ahead as we could see, our way was an alley of fires.
We ran faster, for soon things would be worse.
And we were not mistaken.
Big trees began to topple across our path. We leaped over them, we circled around them. At least, we were on a trail.
The heat became stifling and the breath came heavy in our lungs. Deer and wolves and foxes and rabbits darted past us, fleeing with us, ignoring our presence and that of their natural enemies. The air above the smoke seemed filled with crying birds. Their droppings fell among us, went unnoticed.
To burn this ancient wood, as venerable as the Forest of Arden, seemed almost an act of sacrilege to me. But Eric was prince in Amber, and soon to be king. I suppose I might have, too.
My eyebrows and hair were singed. My throat felt like a chimney. How many would this assault cost us? I wondered.
Seventy miles of wooded valley lay between us and Amber, and over thirty behind us, going back to the forest’s end.
“Bleys!” I gasped. “Two or three miles ahead of us the trail forks! The right branch comes more quickly to the river Oisen, which goes down to the sea! I think it’s our one chance! The whole Valley of Garnath is going to be burned! Our only hope lies in reaching the water!”
He nodded.
We raced on, but the fires outpaced us.
We made it to the fork, though, beating out flames on our smoldering clothing, wiping ashes from our eyes, spitting such from our mouths, running hands through our hair when the flamelets nested there.
“Only about a quarter mile more,” I said.
I had been struck several times by falling boughs. All the exposed areas of my skin pulsed with a more than feverish pain, and many of the covered areas as well. We ran through burning grasses, heading down a long slope, and when we reached the bottom we saw the water, and our speed increased, though we didn’t think it possible. We plunged in and let the cold wetness embrace in.
Bleys and I contrived to float as near together as possible as the currents took us and we were swept along the twisting course of the Oisen. The interlocked branches of the trees overhead had become as the beams in a cathedral of fire. As they broke apart and collapsed in places, we had to turn onto our bellies and swim or dive for the deepest places, depending on how near we were. The waters about us were filled with hissing and blackened debris, and at our backs our surviving troops’ heads in the river seemed as a strip of floating coconuts.
The waters were dark and cold and our wounds began to ache, and we shivered and our teeth chattered.
It was several miles before we left the burning wood and reached the low, flat, treeless place that led on to the sea. It would be a perfect place for Julian to be waiting, with archers, I decided. I mentioned this to Bleys and he agreed, but he didn’t reckon there was much we could do about it. I was forced to agree.
The woods burned all around us, and we swam and we drifted.
It seemed like hours, but must have been less, before my fears began to materialize and the first volley of arrows descended.
I dove, and I swam underwater for a long distance. Since I was going with the current, I made it quite a way along the river before I had to surface once more.
As I did, more arrows fell about me.
The gods knew how long this gauntlet of death might be drawn, but I didn’t want to stick around and find out.
I gulped air and dove once more.
I touched bottom, I felt my way among rocks.
I moved along for as far as I could, then headed toward the right bank, exhaling as I rose.
I burst through the surface, gasped, took a deep breath and went down again, without sticking around to get the lay of the land.
I swam on till my lungs were bursting, and surfaced then.
This time I wasn’t quite so lucky. I took an arrow through my biceps. I managed to dive and break off the shaft when I struck bottom. Then I pulled out the head and continued on by means of the frog kick and underbody sculling with my right hand. The next time up I’d be a sitting duck, I knew.
So I forced myself on, till the red flashes crossed my eyeballs and the blackness crept into my head. I must have stayed down for three minutes.
When I surfaced this time, though, nothing happened, and I trod water and gasped.
I made my way to the left bank and grabbed hold of the trailing undergrowth.
I looked all around me. We were running short on trees at this point, and the fires hadn’t gotten this far. Both banks seemed empty, but so did the river. Could I have been the only survivor? It didn’t seem possible. After all, there had been so many of us when the last march began.
I was half dead with fatigue and my entire body was laced with aches and pains. Every inch of my skin seemed to have been burned, but the waters were so cold that I was shaking and probably blue. I’d have to leave the river soon, if I wanted to live. I felt that I could manage a few more underwater expeditions, and I decided to chance them before departing from the sheltering depths.
Somehow I managed four more laps, and I felt then that I might not come up again if I tried a fifth. So I hung onto a rock and caught my breath, then crawled ashore.
I rolled onto my back and looked all around. I didn’t recognize the locale. The fires hadn’t reached it yet, though. There was a thick clump of bushes off to my right and I crawled toward it, crawled into it, fell flat on my face and went to sleep.
When I awoke, I wished I hadn’t. Every inch of me ached, and I was sick. I lay there for hours, half delirious, and finally managed to stagger back to the river for a long drink of water. Then I headed back for the thicket, made it, and slept again.
I was still sore when consciousness came once more, but a little bit stronger. I walked to the river and back, and by means of my icy Trump found that Bleys was still alive.
“Where are you?” he asked, when I had made the contact.
“Damned if I know,” I replied. “Lucky to be anywhere at all. Near the sea, though. I can hear the waves and I know the smell.�
��
“You’re near the river?”
“Yes.”
“Which bank?”
“Left, as you’d face the sea. North.”
“Then stay put,” he told me, “and I’ll send someone after you. I’m assembling our forces now. I’ve already got over two thousand together, and Julian won’t come near us. More keep straggling in every minute,”
“Okay,” I said, and that was it.
I stayed put. I slept as I did so.
I heard them bashing about in the bushes and was alert, I pushed some fronds aside and peered forth.
It was three of the big red guys.
So I straightened my gear and brushed all my garments, ran a hand through my hair, stood erect and swayed, took several deep breaths, and stepped forth.
“I am here,” I announced.
Two of them did double-takes, blades in their hands, as I said it.
But they recovered, smiled, paid me deference, and conducted me back to the camp. It was perhaps two miles distant. I made it without leaning.
Bleys appeared and said, “We’ve got over three thousand now.” Then he called for a medical officer to take care of me again.
We were undisturbed all through the night, and the rest of our troops straggled in that night and the following day.
We had perhaps five thousand by then. We could see Amber in the distance.
We slept another night and on the following morning we set forth.
By afternoon we had made maybe fifteen miles. We marched along the beach, and there was no sign of Julian anywhere.
The feeling of pain from my burns began to subside. My thigh was healthy, but my shoulder and arm still hurt from here to hell and back again.
We marched on, and soon we were within forty miles of Amber. The weather stayed clement and all of the wood to our left was a desolate, blackened ruin. The fire had destroyed most of the timber in the valley, so for once there was a thing in our favor. Julian nor anybody else could ambush us. We’d see them coming a mile off. We made another ten miles ere the sun fell and we bivouacked on the beach.
The next day, I remembered that Eric’s coronation was near at hand and I reminded Bleys. We had almost lost count of the days, but realized we still had a few remaining.
We led a speed-march till noon, then rested. By then, we were twenty-five miles away from the foot of Kolvir. By twilight, the distance was ten.
And we kept on. We marched till midnight and we bivouacked once again. By that time, I was beginning to feel fairly alive once more. I practiced a few cuts with my blade and could almost manage them. The next day, I felt even better.
We marched until we came to the foot of Kolvir, where we were met by all of Julian’s forces, combined with many from Caine’s fleet who now stood as foot soldiers.
Bleys stood there and called things, like Robert E. Lee at Chancellorsville, and we took them.
We had maybe three thousand men when we had finished off everything Julian had to throw against us. Julian, of course, escaped.
But we had won. There was celebration that night. We had won.
I was very afraid by then, and I made my fears known to Bleys. Three thousand men against Kolvir.
I had lost the fleet, and Bleys had lost over ninety-eight percent of his foot soldiers. I did not look upon these as rejoiceable items.
I didn’t like it.
But the next day we began the ascent. There was a stairway, allowing for the men to go two abreast along it. This would narrow soon, however, forcing us to go single file.
We made it a hundred yards up Kolvir, then two, then three.
Then the storm blew in from the sea, and we held tight and were lashed by it.
Afterward, a couple of hundred men were missing.
We struggled on and the rains came down. The way grew steeper, more slippery. A quarter of the way up Kolvir we met with a column of armed men descending. The first of these traded blows with the leaders of our vanguard, and two men fell. Two steps were gained, and another man fell.
This went on for over an hour, and by then we were about a third of the way up and our line was wearing back toward Bleys and myself. It was good that our big red warriors were stronger than Eric’s troops. There would come a clash of arms, a cry, and a man would be brought by. Sometimes he would be red, occasionally furry, but more often he wore Eric’s colors.
We made it to the halfway point, fighting for every step. Once we reached the top, there would be the broad stair of which the one to Rebma had been but an image. It would lead up to the Great Arch, which was the eastern entranceway to Amber.
Perhaps fifty of our vanguard remained. Then forty, thirty, twenty …
We were about two-thirds of the way up by then, and the stair zigged and zagged its way back and forth across the face of Kolvir. The eastern stair is seldom used. It is almost a decoration. Our original plans had been to cut through the now blackened valley and then circle, climbing, and to take the western way over the mountains and enter Amber from behind. The fire and Julian had changed all this. We’d never have made it up and around. It was now a frontal assault or nothing. And it wasn’t going to be nothing.
Three more of Eric’s warriors fell and we gained four steps. Then our front man made the long descent and we lost one.
The breeze was sharp and cool from off the sea, and birds were collecting at the foot of the mountain. The sun broke through the clouds, as Eric apparently put aside his weather making now that we were engaged with his force.
We gained six steps and lost another man.
It was strange and sad and wild…
Bleys stood before me, and soon his turn would come. Then mine, should he perish.
Six of the vanguard remained.
Ten steps…
Then five remained.
We pushed on, slowly, and there was blood on every step for as far back as I could see. There’s a moral there, somewhere.
The fifth man slew four before he fell himself, so bringing us to another zig, or zag, as the case may be.
Onward and upward, our third man fighting with a blade in either hand. It was good that he fought in a holy war, for there was real zeal behind each blow. He took three before he died.
The next wasn’t as zealous, or as good with his blades. He fell immediately, and then there were two.
Bleys drew his long, filigreed blade, and its edge sparkled in the sun.
“Soon, brother,” he said, “we will see what they can do against a prince.”
“Only one, I hope,” I replied, and he chuckled.
I’d say we were three-quarters of the way there when Bleys’ turn finally came.
He leaped forward, immediately dislodging the first man to face him. The point of his blade found the throat of the second, and the flat of it fell alongside the head of the third, dislodging him also. He dueled a moment with the fourth and dispatched him.
My own blade was in my hand, ready, as I watched and advanced.
He was good, even better than I remembered him to be. He advanced like a whirlwind, and his blade was alive with light. They fell before it — how they fell, my friend! Whatever else you might say of Bleys, on that day he acquitted himself as became his rank. I wondered how long he could keep going.
He’d a dagger in his left hand, which he used with brutal efficiency whenever he could manage a corps а corps. He left it in the throat of his eleventh victim.
I could see no end to the column which opposed us. I decided that it must stretch all the way to the landing at the top. I hoped my turn wouldn’t come. I almost believed it.
Three more men plummeted past me and we came to a small landing and a turn. He cleared the landing and began the ascent. For half an hour I watched him, and they died and they died. I could hear the murmurs of awe from the men behind me. I almost thought he could make it to the top.
He used every trick available. He baffled blades and eyes with his cloak. He tripped the warriors. He seized w
rists and twisted, with his full strength.
We made it to another landing. There was some blood on his sleeve by then, but he smiled constantly, and the warriors behind the warriors he killed were ashen. This helped him, too. And perhaps the fact that I stood ready to fill the gap also contributed to their fears and so slowed them, worked on their nerves. They’d heard of the naval engagement, I later learned.
Bleys worked his way to the next landing, cleared it, turned again, began to ascend. I hadn’t thought he could make it that far, then. I didn’t think I could make it as far as he had. It was the most phenomenal display of swordsmanship and endurance I’d seen since Benedict had held the pass above Arden against the Moonriders out of Ghenesh.
He was tiring, though, I could see that, too. If only there were some way for me to relieve him, to spell him for a time.
But there wasn’t. So I followed, fearing every stroke might be his last.
I knew that he was weakening. We were within a hundred feet of the top at that point.
I suddenly felt for him. He was my brother and he’d done well by me. I don’t think he thought he’d make it then, yet he was fighting on … in effect, giving me my chance for the throne.
He killed three more men, and his blade moved more slowly each time. He fought with the fourth for perhaps five minutes before he took him. I was certain the next would he his last.
He wasn’t, though.
As he slew that man, I transferred my blade from my right hand to my left, drew my dagger with my right and threw it.
It went in up to the hilt, in the throat of the next man. Bleys sprang over two steps and hamstrung the man before him, casting him downward.
Then he cut upward, ripping open the belly of the one behind that one.
I rushed to fill the gap, to be tight behind him and ready. He didn’t need me yet, though.
He took the next two, with a new burst of energy. I called for another dagger and one was passed to me from somewhere along the line.
I kept it ready till he slowed once more, and I used it on the man he fought.
The man was lunging as it spun in, so the hilt rather than the blade caught him. It struck against his head, though, and Bleys pushed against his shoulder and he fell. But the next man leaped forward, and though he impaled himself, he struck Bleys upon the shoulder and they went over the edge together.
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