The High King: Book Two of the 'Riothamus' trilogy

by Rosemary Fryth

  “Then this is where we must hold them,” Aran stated.

  Darven nodded, “I doubt that they will swing to the north of Solstice in order to reach the central towns. The feed will be scarce, and with every day riding north they will be increasing their chances of running into the plainsmen.”

  He grinned, “If their memories are long, then they will remember how many of their number fell to the plainsmen during retaking of the province. They will not want to tackle the plainspeople again if they do not have to.”

  “Will the plainsmen be this far south?” Aran asked, hopeful that the horse archers would be joining the campaign soon.

  Darven nodded, “They usually are during winter. Most of the small summer streams on the plains will be drying up soon, and I know the plainsmen like to winter their herds near the Titan River.”

  “Then they will be naturally blocking the northern route,” Terdec commented. “We are still on the right route, that is unless we’ve been all terribly wrong, and the Thakur plan to move south through Nafeking, or decide to risk the perils of the forest.”

  Aran frowned; as yet again he felt that sense of nameless horror welling up from the distant west. It had been weeks since he had been troubled by that disturbing awareness, but since they had all been riding steadily westwards, the ill-feeling was growing stronger each day. Casting his awareness out he tried to define the unpleasant feeling. Within moments he was aware of a malignant presence brooding away to the west, a presence that could only be one thing.

  “They will not go to the south-east,” Aran said quietly staring intently at the still invisible Trident Range. “I don’t know how or why, but I can feel them. There is a great presence moving to the south-west of us.”

  He flared his nostrils and took a deep breath of the air, “Yes…they are there…although still quite a way beyond us. However they are moving swiftly in this direction.”

  “Can you smell them Aran?” Darven asked, fascinated by this obviously new demonstration of the Warriormage Ability.

  Aran shook his head, and closed his eyes; again he grasped the magepower and curled it within, trying harder to reach out further.

  “No, a feeling of undefined horror, an unpleasant odour almost…” he shrugged, “Just an impression of dust and movement and minds linked…Hell!”

  He pulled away suddenly, his face white with strain and horror. Immediately Alissa rode her horse forward, reaching out with her own power to sustain him.

  “What happened?” she asked urgently.

  Aran pulled Spirit up, and leant over the side of the horse. Immediately he vomited the remains of breakfast onto the grass. The others waited silently, their faces full of concern.

  “I must be more careful,” Aran said at last, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I was trying to feel them and I got too close, and I briefly brushed their mind link. Luckily their Warleader must have been asleep, for I managed to pull away before she became aware of my presence…” He shook his head, “I don’t know how they stand it…I felt ill as soon as I touched her link.”

  He glanced up at the other’s questioning faces and his eyes were grim. Quickly he tried to explain what had happened.

  “Just for an instant I touched the link the Warleader has on her army. It was horrible, she must be entirely evil…just that fleeting touch was enough to make me sick to my stomach!”

  “How will you stand it once we get closer?” Alissa asked her eyes raking his body to see if he had come to any physical harm.

  “I will try and ward myself,” Aran said finally. “When we stop I’ll speak to the Archmage. He may be able to suggest something.” He took a deep breath, “In the meantime, I’ll keep within myself and not venture out again. This ambush is dependent entirely upon us taking the enemy by surprise. That will be lost if I stumble again, and alert them to our presence.”

  *

  By late in the morning the small army had reached the foot of Mount Solstice, and all were soon busily unsaddling horses, preparing to make a day camp in its shadow.

  Aran led Spirit across to be picketed with the other horses, then with that duty done, stared long and hard at the craggy mountain looming over him, a faint idea prickling the back of his mind. The sight of the mages dismounting and preparing for camp gave clarity to his idea, and he quickly made his way over to where Earthmage Drayden was unsaddling his horse.

  “My lord?” Drayden looked up in some surprise at the sudden appearance of his young king.

  “I have a favour to ask of you, High Earthmage,” Aran said immediately.

  The mage inclined his head, “My lord, all you need to do is ask.”

  Aran stared at the high peak towering over the camp, “I have a mind to see the lie of the land hereabouts. Can you take me to the top of that peak?”

  Drayden stared at Aran in amazement, “You wish to be transformed, my lord?”

  Aran nodded, “I do not have the time to climb that mountain in the usual way. If you can do this…?”

  The mage nodded, “If you will allow me a few minutes to finish up here…” he looked across at his king. “You will need to discard the armour, and dress lighter my lord; else I will not be able to lift you.”

  *

  “We ought to move a little way away my lord. The mages are now used to transformations but the process may upset the common soldiery.”

  Aran nodded and walked with the Earthmage to the outskirts of the camp.

  “Have you told the Archmage?”

  Drayden inclined his head, “Of course my lord. Any transformations involving a non-Glaive individual must first be approved by the Archmage. Even more so because you are the king, to do otherwise mean that I would risk being stripped of my rank and mantle.”

  “Will I be a kitten again?”

  “Aye, it worked well last time.”

  Aran closed his eyes and grimaced, “Then do it quickly man, this is not something that is very enjoyable.”

  The Earthmage grinned, “You get used to it my lord…”

  *

  Despite the Earthmage’s words, Aran felt he could never really get used to the feeling of being suspended weightless in the air whilst the air currents played havoc with his fur and whiskers. Briefly he looked down, and immediately closed his eyes again against the unnerving sight of the ground and distant camp spinning below him. Aran opened his eyes again as the great sea eagle tightened his clasp upon the soft, loose fur at his neck and spiralled upwards, taking advantage of the air rising from the great plains below.

  ‘The air will be turbulent around the peak,’ Drayden informed him gravely. ‘Please do not move…I will try and make our landing gentle for you.’

  Aran grinned despite his alarm. There was no way that he would hamper the Earthmage’s flight. The distant earth below was a cheerless reminder at how great a fall it would be if he was dropped…

  ‘Do not fear, I will not drop you,’ reassured Drayden as he intercepted Aran’s thoughts ‘Now paws outstretched. There is a wide ledge on the peak that will accommodate us both.’

  Unfortunately there was a sudden wind gust, and the sea eagle landed heavily, but Aran was this time prepared for the sudden stop and curved his claws into the loose rock.

  *

  “It’s a fine view, my lord.”

  Aran made sure his back was firm against the mountain, and his hands splayed across the comforting security of the rock before he felt secure enough to look out and across the vast expanse of the plains spread below.

  “Aye…how high are we?”

  The Earthmage studied the plains below, “Oh I expect the plain is at least several hundred yards below us.” His gaze moved to the horizon, “From this height you can see the Trident Range quite clearly. Ah I can see now the approaching storms the Weathermages have been talking about…”

  Aran stared at the distant western snow-capped mountains, then behind them on the horizon, the encroaching storm clouds. Changing his aspect he looked to t
he south, and tried without success to see the approaching Thakurian army. Gathering his magepower he breathed deeply of the cold air and opened his senses to send a hesitant probe across the plains. Almost immediately he felt them, then immediately broke contact before he was drawn into their mind-link.

  “There,” he pointed to the south-west. “I can feel the Thakur army but cannot see them, can you?”

  Drayden had instantly felt his companion’s unfamiliar use of the magepower, but it was strange to him, and he could not identify or copy what had been done. Finally with a quick, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly,” the mage shook himself into the resemblance of the eagle, and with a leap and a flap of the great wings, spiralled up higher into the air. Aran with some trepidation about being left behind, watched the bird anxiously. A few minutes later, the sea eagle landed again on the narrow ledge and shimmered back into Drayden.

  “Aye, you are right! There is an army approaching. They are too far away to guess numbers but they are mounted and are riding hard and fast.”

  “You saw them clearly? They are Thakur?”

  Drayden shook his head, “Although the sight of the sea eagle is keen, I could only make out the great dust cloud which they have cast up, and the midday sun flashing upon their armour and weapons.”

  “But they are the Thakur and not the plainsmen?” Aran questioned.

  “Aye, Thakur indeed, a plainsman would sooner die than ride his horse so hard.”

  Aran gazed to the south-west, “How far are they away?”

  “Two days at this furious pace, although they will be slowed as their horses drop dead from under them. They are surely an advance party send to secure and hold the route for the main army behind.”

  Aran nodded, “Then I was right.”

  He turned to the Earthmage, “We must return immediately to camp. I must relay this information to the other commanders.”

  *

  ‘My lord…there is a rider approaching the camp from the north-east’

  Aran craned his head around, but the way he was held and the movement of the eagle in flight restricted him and he could see nothing.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘A plainsman, he looks familiar, one of the few that came to Andur’s Keep for the coronation. He has ridden long and hard. His horse is lathered…odd for a plainsman to ride so…’

  Aran caught the puzzlement woven into the short thought-comments of the sea eagle, and tried to see the distant horseman.

  ‘Are others with him?’ Aran asked, trying his best to ignore the ground rushing up.

  ‘No…he is alone. Prepare yourself my lord…we are set to land.’

  Moments later Aran and Mage Drayden strolled back into camp, their absence unnoticed by the soldiers who upon arrival had immediately rolled themselves into blankets, trying to catch a bit of shut-eye for the night ride ahead.

  Aran clasped the mage on the shoulder, “Thank-you. Now you must excuse me as I must go talk with the other commanders.”

  Drayden nodded and yawned.

  “I think I will try and sleep a little myself. Transformations always tend to make me tired and keeping two transformations intact is even more wearying.”

  *

  A little later Aran was deep in conversation with the Guard officers and Legion Commanders, when one of the sentry legio appeared, waiting anxiously for an opportunity to speak.

  Aran glanced up at the soldier and held up his hand for quiet.

  “You have news man?”

  The soldier quickly knelt, “Aye my king. A plainsman has ridden in and is asking to speak with the Riothamus.” He paused, “I would have sent him on his way, but I was not certain who the Riothamus was.”

  Aran grinned, “I am the Riothamus, soldier, lead on. I will go to him…he has ridden far.”

  *

  “Bini Stardreamer!”

  Aran was immediately certain of the identity of the young warrior busily unloading his small pack of gear from his lathered mount.

  The plainsman looked up at the mention of his name, and quickly walked over and clasped Aran’s hand.

  “I have been following your dust for the past two days, my lord Riothamus. I am glad that you have finally stopped so I could catch up.”

  Aran glanced at the horizon, “And the plainsmen are following on behind?”

  Bini shook his head in weary anger, “No, I am quite alone. The plainsmen still wait on omens and sit on their hands.” His eyes hardened, “Although I and those few of your Guard who are your ambassadors plead your cause, still they do nothing. Eventually I grew tired of the SpiritDreamer’s mutterings about omens, and left to seek you and join you in this war.”

  Aran frowned, “Although it does my heart good to see you again, I am confused by your arrival Bini. Have you entirely deserted your people?”

  The plainsman took off his helmet and shook free his golden hair, “Aye lord Riothamus. I have stood in the Meeting Tent before the Clan Chiefs and Bowleader Kainne Stormbringer, and given them back my Plains Oath.” The leather and bronze clad warrior knelt upon the dry and dying grass and bowed his head, “I come to you my lord Riothamus. Would you let a humble plainsman serve you? Will you accept my Oath and Bow.”

  Aran took the sun-browned hand of the warrior, and lifted him to his feet, “Of course Bini, you will become my left hand, just as Wolf Leader Darven is my right.”

  “And what am I Aran?” a merry voice asked behind them.

  Aran turned and smiled at Alissa, who had walked up after hearing news of the arrival of the plainsman.

  “You are my heart and soul as always, Alissa.”

  Bini inclined his head and spoke gravely, “Lady Alissa, you ride to war also?”

  Alissa nodded and took Aran’s hand.

  Bini noticed the closeness and grinned at the couple.

  “You two are pledged?”

  Aran nodded.

  The warrior laughed, “When I left, I hoped it might be so.” He grinned again “That is good. The blood of the plains will be joined with the ancient Andurian lineage. You will have strong, fine children my lord…”

  Aran laughed at that and clasped the warrior on the shoulder.

  “Come Bini, I would like you to meet the other Captains and Commanders of this great host. You may not be the long-hoped-for arrival of the horsetribes, but your presence here is gift enough. Have you yet eaten?”

  The plainsman shook his head, “No, I have been riding since dawn.”

  “Then sup and rest with us. We camp here till dusk then we ride again.”

  Bini glanced across at Aran approving the decision, “We will soon be in sight of the mountains and the Thakur borders, my lord Riothamus. The dust from such an army as this would be very visible to our enemy.”

  Aran nodded, “We have other plans too Bini! I will tell you of them whilst we walk…”

  *

  In the falling dusk, Aran swung into the saddle. As he settled himself, he glanced around at the ranks of mounted cavalry. They bore no lights for this night ride, for the two moons were up and their dim light was enough to light the way. However it had turned bitterly cold, and with the sun’s feeble winter warmth gone, the soldiers wrapped themselves in their cloaks and blankets, trying to stay warm whilst in the saddle. Aran had not planned for a hard ride, for the ambush point lay only eight or so hours ahead and would be reached well before dawn. He did not want the cavalry at the ambush point to be greatly separated from the main army, for he knew there would be injuries and losses from the ambush, and despite the presence of the Healermages, injured men needed to be returned as quickly as possible to the main base camp. Alissa rode up, and took her usual position next to him and gave him a tight, nervous smile. Despite her brave talk, she too was feeling apprehensive about the coming battle. Behind Aran had drawn up Darven with the great banner, joined now by the bronze and leather clad Bini on his rangy corn coloured mare. Behind the banner were the ranks of Guardsmen and mages, and then finally at
the rear were the massed ranks of the Legions. Looking about him and seeing that all were in readiness, Aran lifted his arm and gave the command to ride on.

  *

  As predicted, the cavalry reached the general ambush point whilst the night was still far advanced, and well before there was any hint of dawn in the sky. However, the last hour had brought a change in the weather, and now scattered clouds were scuttling across the sky, occasionally obscuring the light from the two moons.

  “It will snow later on,” predicted Bini swinging off his horse and landing lightly onto the dry grass.

  Aran looked up at the massing clouds and frowned, “As soon as it is dawn we must start digging the pits.” He turned to his officers and commanders who had only just ridden up. “We must move quickly into position. Can you make certain there are rotated digging teams at work come dawn.” He glanced at the sky again, “There is time enough for the men to catch a few hours sleep now, but we must start the defenses and diggings as soon as there is light in the sky. Also the prepared stakes must be brought forward from where they have been lashed onto the sides of the baggage horses.” He paused, “I know it will be cold but any fires lit must be small and banked well, and take care that the men do not use green timber. I would be angry if the enemy were alerted to our position through carelessness and neglect for our own watchfulness.”

  The officers and commanders bowed and nodded and departed to see to the dispersal and arranging of their own troops.

  “You are stern, but fair with them. That is good,” Bini stated after they had left. He turned back to his horse and pulled off the saddle and carefully gave the mare a rubdown.

  Aran glanced across at the plainsman, “Do you too think I have changed Bini?”

  The warrior looked up and studied Aran, finally he nodded.

  “You are stronger now I think,” he said at last, “And harder too, but that is no fault in a commander riding to war.

  “Can I be anything else, Bini?” Aran mused as he took looked to the welfare of Spirit. “I mean if I am kind and gentle with them will they still take me seriously as king and commander?” He paused and looked at the plainsman over the withers of his horse.