The blood on his face gleaming as brightly as his dark eyes, Andy showed his teeth to his opponent in recognition of the blow, then leaped up, only to be jerked off his feet once again.
“What the blue blazes do you think you’re playin’ at!”
Her fist wrapped in the back of his shirt, Norma shook him like a dog with a rat in its teeth.
“Haven’t we told you half a hundred times, no more fightin’?”
Behind them, Ernie stepped in front of Garet, who simply wiped the blood from his nose with an even expression. Andy gave Norma a disarming smile.
“It was just a boxing match.’
“Bollocks!”
“Really. Something to pass the time and keep fit, right Garet?”
Andy turned his wide-eyed gaze on the other youth who just shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”
“I’ll show you fit, I’ll toss you off the north wall. Then we’ll see how bloody fit you are with half them bastards out there chasin’ you.”
“Now there’s an idea.”
All eyes turned to see the sergeant-at-arms leaning against the barracks, his expression dark. “Don’t you lot have somewhere else to be?” he asked with dangerous politeness.
The area was suddenly empty of spectators.
He turned back to the two combatants. “Barns, K.P. Harrow, latrines. Don’t,” he held up one thick finger as Andy made to protest, “even think about speakin’, just git.”
When the two youths were out of earshot, Norma gave the sergeant a sideways glance.
“That was kinda lenient for you, wasn’t it, Lorn?”
He shrugged. “There’s little enough to keep up morale these days, might as well make use of what distractions we’ve got. Keep him outta my sight for a while, though, I might have a change of heart.”
“We’ll put him on night watch,” Ernie answered. “That should tire him out some.”
“Good idea. Barns can take a turn as well.”
That night Andy stood on the north wall staring out at the nearly full moon. The afternoon had been a partial success, he’d blown off some steam, satisfied himself that Garet was no better a fighter than he, and stirred up everyone’s blood a bit. Since the enemy had bottled up Trance Tower, the entire garrison was walking around like they’d already lost. The air of doom and gloom was getting thick enough to cut with a knife. Eyes narrowed, he glared down at the surrounding campfires. So they were temporarily cut off from the rest of Valdemar, so supplies were tight. Bessie would be back any day with an army at her back and then they’d send this lot packing back over the mountains double quick.
His stomach growled, and he rubbed it in rueful acknowledgment of its point. All right, so they were in a tight spot—the quartermaster already had them down to half rations—but they weren’t beat yet, not by a long shot. The enemy wasn’t so tough. If they were, they’d have taken Trance Tower already instead of just sitting out there with their thumbs up . . . a movement below the wall made him stiffen. He stared into the darkness for a long time, but eventually relaxed. It was probably just a night-bird. He returned his attention to the enemy.
Nobody knew who they were. The standards and banners they carried were unfamiliar and the language their single envoy had spoken was gibberish even to the commander; although the body he’d brought with him had spoken his message clearly enough: surrender Trance Tower.
Andy spat over the wall in unconscious imitation of Norma. Not in this lifetime or any other, he swore silently. His parents had died for this garrison and no bunch of pike-wielding sons of whoevers were going to defile their memories. They could sit out there until moss grew over them. Trance Tower would never surrender no matter how hungry they got.
His stomach rumbled mournfully.
“Aw, shut up.”
Leaning against the parapet, he stared out past the dark bulk of the surrounding army. The moon was low in the sky, shining down on the lightly wooded foothills. He’d hunted rabbits in those hills with Phen Royn and Harn Anzie every year since he was ten years old. They should have been out half a dozen times already this spring instead of standing on the walls watching the enemy move about like they owned the place. Andy grimaced. Their hunters had probably already stripped the hills of rabbits. They were probably sitting around their campfires right now eating roast rabbit and rabbit stew and rabbit pie and . . .
Something white flashed in the distant trees.
He frowned.
Ground lightning?
It flashed again and, risking arrow-shot from below, he leaned forward. Something was moving in the hills beyond the enemy, moving fast.
He saw it again some twenty yards west of where he’d spotted it the first time. Then again a few moments later farther still. It sparkled in the moonlight for just an instant., its half hidden form vaguely familiar, then it disappeared again.
“What’cha you doin’, boy?”
He jumped. Spinning about, he shot a glare at Phen, who held out his canteen with a chuckle.
“Lookin’ at somethin’,” he growled back.
“What? Someone takin’ a piss?” Phen risked a glance over the edge.
“No. Somethin’ strange. There.” He pointed.
“Where?”
“Past the troops to the west. Somethin’s movin’ out there like it’s circlin’ around us.”
Phen peered into the darkness.
“I don’t see nothin’.” He turned with a grin. “You imaginin’ mountain cats again?”
Three years ago Andy had been certain there’d been a mountain cat stalking the garrison flocks. He’d even found tracks, but they’d turned out to belong to a particularly big jackrabbit. Phen had never let him forget it. Of course, now the enemy had the flocks as well.
“This was no mountain cat,” Andy replied hotly. “It was white.”
“Late snow drift.”
“Snow drifts don’t move. There, in the underbrush. Tell me you didn’t see that?”
Phen leaned forward again. “Maybe.” He shook his head. “It was probably just an owl or somethin’. Anyway you’re relieved, go get some sleep.”
“Shouldn’t I report it?”
Phen shrugged. “Go ahead, if you want everyone to say you’re seein’ giant, sheep killin’, jackrabbit mountain cats again.”
“Drop dead.”
“Just givin’ you a friendly warning.”
“Yeah, sure.” With some reluctance, Andy turned away but, as he did, the flash of white caught his eyes again, another twenty yards to the west. Something was out there, it was circling them, and it wasn’t no owl.
He spotted it again the next night, this time to the east. Throughout his shift he watched it wink in and out of the trees, moving incredibly quickly, east to west and back again. Then, just before Phen relieved him, it crested the top of a small hill, rose up, and pawed the air with its forelegs, silver hooves gleaming in the moonlight.
“It’s a horse.”
Andy made his announcement to Phen as they lined up for chow the next morning.
“Not a mountain cat, then.”
“I said it’s a horse.”
“Probably one of theirs set out on a hobble to eat grass.”
“It wasn’t hobbled.”
“Maybe it escaped, then.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then I guess it musta been a ghost horse.”
“Aw, shut up, Phen.”
Ernie was no more help when he told him that afternoon.
“Mountain pony,” he pronounced.
“Aren’t they usually brown?”
“Yep.”
“Have you ever seen a white mountain pony?”
“Nope.”
“Then it can’t be a mountain pony.”
“Must be a ghost horse, then. Or me’be a mountain cat, eh?”
Andy gave up.
He watched the horse pace back and forth from west to east for another full shift, then finally reported it to the sergeant-at-arms.
The older man frowned thoughtfully.
“How long you been seein’ it?”
“Three nights now.”
“And you’re sure it’s a horse?”
Andy clamped his mouth closed on an imprudent reply. “Yes, Sarge.”
“Hm. Garet Barns thought he saw somethin’ white to the east last night as well.”
“Garet?”
“Yeah. Your fightin’ partner’s been on the south wall these last three nights now.” He stood. “Well, there’s nothin’ for it. I’d better go see for myself. You’re sure it’s not a mountain cat this time?”
Andy snapped his teeth together. “No, Sarge.”
That night the sergeant stood watch beside him as the white horse flashed between the trees. Finally it crested the hill again, pawing the air in agitation before disappearing once again.
“It‘s so fast,” Andy whispered in awe. “I’ve never seen anything move so fast.”
“Hm. Funny how the enemy hasn’t spotted it,” the older man mused.
“You don’t figure it’s really a ghost horse, do you, Sarge?” Andy asked, trying to mask the uneasiness in his voice.
“No.”
“So, it wouldn’t be there to . . .” He trailed off.
“To what?”
“Well . . . my da, he died in the mountains. Maybe it . . . you know.”
“Maybe it’s come to take you off to join him?”
“Maybe.”
“No.” The sergeant gave him what amounted to a reassuring show of teeth. “Your da was a good man and a brave soldier, but he’d have rather faced that lot down there single-handed than get up on the back of a horse, ghost or otherwise. And he sure wouldn’t have sent one for you. No, that there’s something else altogether.”
“What?”
“Well, that remains to be seen.” He turned. “Keep your eyes on the enemy,” he ordered tersely. “They’re a lot more dangerous than . . . whatever that is out there. You understand?”
“Yes, Sarge.”
His jaw tight, the sergeant headed for the south ramparts.
By the next morning everyone wanted to hear about “Andy’s latest mountain cat.” Finally he’d taken a swing at Mac Rellden and they’d backed off a little. Leaving him in the tender care of Norma and Ernie, Phen took their bowls to the chow line.
“So, what’s this slop s’posed to be?”
Norma’s brother Harn glared at his bowl. The garrison cook shot him a resentful look back.
“It’s beans, mister, and you should be glad to get’em. Stores are running low. Pretty soon you’ll be looking at yer boots and wondering how to I can cook’em up.”
Phen laughed. “That would break the siege double quick. We all die from the fumes.”
Harn glared at him as everyone about them laughed.
“Hey, heads up, the Commander.”
There was a hushed silence over the chow line as Commander Dravin strode across the parade ground. Those seated made to stand, but he waved them down again.
A tall man in his late twenties, Dravin had been the late Commander Beckwin’s lieutenant for four years before an infected tooth had taken the old man to his reward. He was not an imposing officer, but rather one who carried an air of practical confidence that inspired the same confidence in others. Today his eyes were shadowed with fine worry lines, but he smiled easily as Phen and Harn saluted.
“How’s the food?”
“The same, sir,” Phen replied. “Have some?”
“No thank you, Mister Royn, I’ve already eaten. The last of the turnips I’m afraid, privilege of rank. But ask me again tomorrow.”
“No sign of relief column yet, sir?” Harn asked bluntly.
“None as yet, Corporal, but Bess Taws got through. King Valdemar will be here any day now. And then there’ll be roast lamb and fresh bread instead of beans and turnips,” he said loudly his voice pitched to take in the gathered soldiers. They grinned back at him, raising their spoons in salute. “Have you seen Ander Harrow?” he asked in a quieter tone.
Phen nodded. “Yes, sir. Andy!”
When the youth came forward, the commander indicated the north wall with a turn of his head. “Walk with me.”
“It’s a Companion.”
“Sir?”
“A Companion, Mister Harrow. One of the Saviors of Valdemar who came in answer to the prayers of the King himself.”
Andy squinted up at his commander. “I’ve heard stories of ’em, sir, but don’t they always travel with Heralds?”
“They do.”
“I didn’t see no Herald, sir.”
“No.”
“Do you think . . . they killed its Herald?”
“No. If its Herald had been killed, it wouldn’t be pacing the garrison. It would have returned to the Companion’s Field if it hadn’t died as well. No, I believe it’s here to choose a Herald, Mister Harrow. It just can’t get close enough to do it.” The Commander stared into space for a moment. “Did you get any kind of feeling when you first saw it?” he asked finally.
“Sir?”
“A feeling, like it was calling to you or trying to draw you away from the garrison?”
Andy glanced up at him in alarm. “No, sir.”
“No sense of familiarity or purpose?”
“No, sir.”
“Hm.” His gray eyes cleared. “Never mind. I’m sure we’ll find out who it’s come for soon enough. Thank you, Mister Harrow.”
“Sir.”
“Well, if it’s come to choose a Herald out of this garrison its got bloody poor timing,” Norma pronounced a few minutes later.
“And bloody poor taste if it wants Andy here,” Phen added with a laugh.
“No one said it wanted me,” Andy snapped back with unusual vehemence. “It could want anyone.”
“They usually Choose the young,” Harn answered thoughtfully, digging a grubby bit of wood from behind his ear. After a moment’s scrutiny, he began to pick his back teeth with it. “And you’re the youngest we’ve got,” he finished.
“There’s Garet. He’s even seen it. And Tara’s only two years older’n him.”
‘None of them have your sparkling personality, though.”
“Shut up, Phen.”
“Hey, really. It’ll look into your eyes, then carry you away from all of this to Haven with its soft beds and clean sheets and you’ll forget all about us.”
“I said, shut up!”
Ernie shot him a curious glance but Norma just shook her head. “Don’t you wanna be a Herald, boy?”
Andy jerked to his feet. “Want’s got nuthin’ to do with it,” he almost shouted. “It’s not me, all right!”
Norma made to answer, but Ernie laid his hand on her arm.
“Sure, lad. It’s all right.”
He sought him out an hour later. Andy was sitting with his back against the west barracks, stropping his dagger hard enough to raise sparks. Hitching up his pants, the older man squatted down beside him.
“So, what’s what?”
“Nuthin’.”
“Bollocks.”
“Really, nuthin’. I just don’t want everyone on my back when it turns out it wants someone else.”
“Why would it want someone else?”
“Because there’s dozens it could want: Garet, Tara, Mac, maybe even you.” His tone was challenging, but Ernie just snorted.
“Doubt that, somehow.”
“Still. For all we know it might even want one of them.” He jerked his head past the wall.
“None of them’s from Valdemar.”
“So?”
“So, it matters. No boy, it’s one of us. An’ if it’s you, it’s you, and you go.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what your folks’d want. Neither one of them ever shrank from their duty, and you’ll not either. We’ll miss you and you’ll miss us, but you’ll go.”
Andy glared at him resentfully but didn’t debate the unusually l
ong speech. He just dove the dagger into its sheath and stood up.
“Doesn’t matter anyway, does it? I can’t get to it and it can’t get to me.”
Ernie gave him a neutral look.
“Me’be.”
The next night everyone wanted to see “Andy’s Companion.” They crowded the walls and betting was brisk with two to one odds on Andy, three to one on Garet, five to one on Tara, and ten to one on Mac. Someone even placed a bet on the garrison cook with the hope he’d be taken away. Finally, the sergeant chased them off. Betting continued in the barracks and across the parade ground and discussion was heated on how to bring the Companion and its new Herald together. Most favored a break-out fight with the four hopefuls in the middle, some wanted to sneak out in the middle of the night, and Phen suggested building a catapult and throwing first Andy, then the other three, over the walls, one at a time. Both Tara and Mac took the teasing well, and even Garet unbent long enough to reply, that as long as Andy went first, it was all right with him. Andy, however, refused to be drawn into the joke.
He’d been quiet and withdrawn all day, spending much of his time alone. At supper he answered Norma’s questions with grunts and ignored Phen completely. When it came time for his shift, he took the stairs like he was climbing to the gallows. As the moon rose, he watched the illusive creature that might turn his life upside down flit back and forth through the trees, then turned away.
The next morning, Norma and Ernie went to see the commander.
“It’s about that Companion, sir,” Norma began.
“Yes?”
“Well, sir, we was wondering . . .” She glanced at Ernie who widened his eyes expectantly at her.
“The thing is, sir,” she continued, “the sergeant-at-arms, he says they, the Companions, are smart, that they can talk to each other and to their Heralds like.”
“Yes.”
Valdemar Anthology - [Tales of Valdemar 02] - Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 13