The Lion of Farside tlof-1

by John Dalmas

  Within a few minutes, they were headed north up the road in the moonless dark, Macurdy and Melody on their own horses, the six rebels doubled up on three others. None of them knew where they were going. The men were either from Wollerda's Company, off east, or Dell's Band, which had been broken. There was another band off north, Orthal's Company, but they didn't know where it was. Macurdy grunted. "We'll find it," he said.

  It took some four hours to reach forested hills; fifteen or twenty miles, he guessed. By that time there was a hint of dawn in the eastern sky. Half an hour later they left the road at a creek, splashing westward through gray dawn-light, heavy forest on both banks. When they'd gone a hundred yards or so, they left the stream, pushing through a fringe of osier and willow onto dry ground.

  "We'll rest here a few hours," Macurdy said. "Tie your horses and get dry wood for warming fires." He and Melody helped, and after they'd piled a stock of branchwood, he built and lit a pair of fires. Then the two of them walked back out to the roadside, carrying the oiled leather rain capes that were part of their saddle gear, and picked their careful way up the slope to an overlook forty or fifty feet above the road.

  At the top, Macurdy sat down on leaf mould just within the forest edge. "What do you think?" he asked.

  "About what?"

  "Anything. Our evening's work. Our rebels. How we're doing."

  "Macurdy, you're a magician, and I'm not talking about how you make fires. Things go right for you." She shifted closer to him. "All that excitement made me horny. If you had to separate Jeremid and me tonight, the least you can do is kiss me. The very least."

  She held her face toward his, perhaps a foot away. He didn't close the gap. "Melody," he said. "I like sitting here with you, but…"

  "I know. You're married, with some kind of strange Farside vow." She sighed. "All right, I won't push it. Who takes the first watch?"

  "I will."

  "Wake me up if you get too sleepy. I don't want to miss the others." She paused and grinned wickedly. "Especially not Jeremid. I may not be in love with him, but he knows how to please a woman."

  Macurdy managed to grin back at her. "So do I. Take my word for it."

  "Take your word?" Melody sputtered. "Bastard!" He could tell she wasn't serious though, and as if to prove it, she chuckled, the sound reminding him of Varia. "You know, Macurdy, I loved you from the first, before I knew you well enough to like you. Now I like you, too."

  Then she wrapped herself in her rain cape and curled up on the cold ground. When her breathing and aura said she slept, Macurdy put his own cape over her and stood up. He was getting sleepy, and considered doing calisthenics to stay awake and warm, then decided he was too tired. Instead he fingered his gums and broken front teeth. They'd begun to hurt. He'd assumed they'd start to rot in time, but hadn't thought it would be so soon. Presumably they had tooth butchers in this world, but he was willing to bet they were a bloody, painful lot.

  He sat down again. They were back barely within the trees; the sun, when it rose, would shine in his face. It ought to be all right to sleep till then. He should have three or four hours before the dwarves arrived.

  The sun rose, but by then he'd turned his back to it, as Melody had. An hour later it was Blue Wing's raucous voice that wakened him, from a limb almost directly overhead. "Macurdy! Macurdy!"

  He jerked abruptly to a sitting position. "Huh? Oh! Blue Wing!" He turned to Melody; she was sitting up too.

  "The dwarves are on their way," the bird said. "Tossi sent me to tell you. Where are the others?"

  "In the woods, up the creek a little ways."

  "Have you slept?"

  "A little bit."

  "Humans are strange! Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when they get here."

  He didn't need to urge them. They lay down again where they were, backs to the sun, letting it warm them. It didn't much make up for the cold, hard ground, but they quickly fell asleep again.

  The next time Blue Wing wakened them, Macurdy could see the dwarves coming, a quarter mile south down the road, Jeremid riding a little ahead as if impatient. Their pack animals trailed behind, along with three new horses. Macurdy waved, getting their attention, then he and Melody scrambled down the side of the ridge and led them to the rebels, who still slept beside cold fires.

  While Macurdy and Melody stacked a new fire, Tossi brought out a huge summer sausage, along with some potatoes that weren't too badly sprouted. The activity had wakened most of the rebels, who watched impressed as Macurdy lit the fire. They'd seen him do it the night before, but they'd been half unconscious then; it could have been a dream.

  "Are you part ylf?" Wolf asked.

  Macurdy laughed. "I used to be a shaman's apprentice. Learned to start fires and kill bugs in the bedding. That's pretty much it."

  They seemed comfortable with that.

  Now Macurdy raised his face. "Blue Wing!" he shouted. "Blue Wing!" The rebels looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Huh! I hope he hasn't flown off out of hearing." Not many seconds later, the great raven landed in a tuliptree, perching on a branch about sixty feet overhead.

  "What do you want, Macurdy?"

  "We need to find a band of men. Rebels. There'll be quite a few of them, and they'll be armed. Men that may resemble the men we found with the dwarves a few days ago."

  Blue Wing didn't say anything for a long moment. "Can you tell me more? What direction? Anything?"

  Macurdy looked at Verder. "What can you tell him?"

  Verder stared impressed at the big bird. "I suppose they'll be somewhere north and west of here not many miles. Probably where there's open ground with grass for the horses; a burn maybe, a year or two old. There's likely to be lean-tos and tents."

  Blue Wing didn't ask for clarification on "not many miles." Probably, Macurdy thought, he'd taken it to mean not too far away. The great raven launched from the branch, big wings thrusting, lifted through a gap in the forest roof and out of sight.

  He was back in half an hour to describe a camp he'd found. "I'll bet that's it," Verder said.

  They got on their horses, three of the rebels riding bareback. (The innkeeper had been unwilling to sell any of his saddles; the saddle makers in Gormin Town might have burned out the night before, and he didn't know when he could get more.) Over the next hour the bird guided them west and north, then landed in a tree. "Macurdy!" he called, "it's only a short way farther. Leave the ridge and follow the draw on your right. You'll come to a large grassy area."

  "Thanks!" Macurdy called back, then turned to Verder. "They're not going to know us. Could there be any trouble?"

  "I don't know why. They ought to welcome volunteers."

  Macurdy's eyes scanned down the line of horses and ponies. "String your bows," he said, and waited while the dwarves dismounted to draw their braided wire crossbow cords.

  He followed Blue Wing's directions then, and in the draw found a well-used trail. Before long they were challenged. He stopped, and a sentry came out on foot, sidling toward him, bow half drawn. "Who are you?" the man asked. "What are you doing here?"

  "We came up to join, if we like the look of things."

  Another voice called from out of sight behind a thicket. "Kahl, take them to Orthal. He'll decide what to do with them. And you! Strangers! All of you off your horses! On foot!"

  Macurdy looked back. "Do it," he said.

  Another, presumably Kahl, rode out on horseback then, and herded the newcomers to a broad meadow. As they crossed it, a heavy-set man sauntered to meet them, a man with considerable fat over thick muscles. Orthal, Macurdy decided. In one hand he carried a roasted joint of some animal, a deer maybe, or calf. His face, hands, and hairy belly were slick with grease. His aura marked him as a natural ruler, a man born to give orders and be obeyed. It also showed him to be brutal. Most of his command seemed to be loafing, and Macurdy got the sense of people who didn't know what to do next-men without a clear objective or plan or strategy.

  "Captain," Kahl said, "
these people were coming up the trail. Thurgo told me to bring them to you."

  Orthal scowled at the newcomers. "What do you want here?"

  "We came to join," Macurdy said.

  "Who in the devil's name are you?"

  "My name's Macurdy, and these are Jeremid and Melody. We're from Oz. These dwarves are sons of the Rich Lode clan, from the Diamond Flues. These others are rebels from other bands, men we rescued from the reeve in Gormin Town. I don't know all their names."

  None of it seemed to register on Orthal, who looked them over slowly, his eyes stopping on Melody for a long moment before returning to Macurdy. Meanwhile, more and more of Orthal's band gathered around, bows nocked or spears in hand. Jeremid kept his own arrow casually directed at Orthal's greasy chest, the bowstring half drawn. Orthal was very aware of it.

  "Who do you know here that can speak for you?" Orthal asked.

  "Here? No one of yours. But these…"

  Orthal waved him off. "They don't mean shit to me. I never saw them before."

  "I'll tell ye who he is," said Tossi angrily. "He's the one that killed the reeve's guards in the square in Gormin Town. He and those tew. And cut these others down from where they'd been hung up to die in public. And led a public riot against the king, that set the town burnin'."

  Most of Orthal's men were staring hard at Macurdy now, unsure whether the claims were true, but feeling a certain awe. Macurdy could sense it.

  Orthal grunted. "Huh! Sounds like bullshit to me. What's your name again?"

  "Macurdy."

  "Macnurley!" His mispronunciation, Macurdy guessed, was deliberate. "I've got foragers out, and they bring news as well as food. If the things this halfling says are true, we'll welcome you. But for now… For now you'll have to give up your weapons. And your horses."

  Macurdy felt his people tighten. He was also aware that Orthal had reestablished his authority; his men were ready to let their arrows fly, their spears thrust. One of them even stepped in front of his captain as if to shield him. Macurdy looked back. "Do what he says," he ordered. "If we're going to be part of this, we need to take orders." He slipped his sheathed saber from his belt and lay it on the ground; unhappy, the others followed his example with bows and swords. Meanwhile rebels had moved in, taken the reins of the horses and ponies, and were leading them away.

  No one but Macurdy paid attention to the heavy knife still behind his hip. They were led to a place in the shade and seated in a cluster, unbound but guarded. After a little, the rebels ate their midday meal, offering their prisoners neither food nor water. Jeremid gave Macurdy dirty looks. Before the meal was over, a sentry rode up. "Captain! There's men coming up the trail from Three Forks. Slaney and his, I think!"

  Macurdy swallowed bile.

  Other rebels mounted horses and rode off southwest, clearly not in hostile reaction, but to confirm and greet.

  "Slaney?" Jeremid murmured. "Isn't he the one…?"

  "He's the one," Macurdy murmured back.

  "Shit! What do we do now?"

  "Wait for our chance. Don't do anything till I tell you."

  Six or eight minutes later, Slaney rode into the clearing at the head of about twenty men. Macurdy got to his feet, the rest of his party rising too. As the newcomers rode up, Slaney's glance stopped on him.

  "Well! What have we got here?" he said. Reining up, he dismounted and swaggered over. "Looks like you caught yourself some prisoners, Orthal!" He laughed then. "Yes, you surely did."

  "You know them?"

  "Oh yes. Yes, I know them. I know them real well. This one especially." He pointed to Macurdy, then actually rubbed his hands together. "I never forget a face, and that one I'd remember in hell."

  He told about the affair at the blowndown timber then, his account more or less factual, but incomplete. Finishing with, "He took our horses then, and our loot and weapons, and rode off with it."

  "Slaney," Macurdy said, "you're a liar as well as a coward. I left you horses enough to leave on, and what I took, I gave to the dwarves, as blood money for their cousins you killed. Anyone with even half a brain knows better than to start a war with dwarves."

  Slaney flushed, and with an oath drew his sword. Macurdy's knife struck him just below the breastbone, and the bandit took one wobbling step before falling on his face. Rebels crowded around Macurdy then, punching and kicking, getting in their own way, until Orthal bellowed to let him be. Probably, Macurdy thought, he had his own ideas for punishment.

  Then someone else spoke, Slaney's second-in-command. "Are these the ones Burney told us about when we were riding up? That want to join?"

  Orthal took a moment before answering. "That's right. What about it?"

  "What their leader said is true: They could have killed us all, or left us afoot. And if they want to join… When we stopped at Stoney Creek, Bekker told us recruitment's down to nothing, since Dell's band got massacred."

  "That's us!" Verder said. "I was one of Dell's. Some of us were taken alive. Dell and Liskor were hung up on the spot and used for target practice."

  Again there was uncertainty on many rebel faces.

  "Counting the dwarves, there's twelve of them," someone added. "Enough to be worthwhile."

  "Eleven," someone corrected. "The other one's a woman."

  "I'm as good as most men in a fight!" Melody answered. "Anyone want to test me? Orthal?"

  Orthal laughed. "Oh, I'll test you all right. On your back, after we've executed these filth. Starting with him." He gestured at Macurdy. "Then we'll all test you."

  It was Melody, not Macurdy, that Orthal walked up to, as if to grab her. Her right fist caught him flush on the nose, and blood flowed as he stepped backward in surprise. Then, with a roar, he drew his sword.

  Macurdy's bellow stopped everything. "NOW WE SEE WHAT KIND OF SPINELESS COWARD ORTHAL IS!" he shouted. "TOO GUTLESS TO GIVE HER A SWORD AND FIGHT HER."

  Orthal stared bug-eyed at him for a moment, then gradually relaxed and grinned. "Larny!" he called, "give the bitch your sword."

  Some of the rebels laughed. Larny stepped forward, a massive shambling man not much taller than Macurdy but considerably heavier, mostly muscle. "It ain't right, Orthal," Larny said. "It's too big for her. She couldn't hardly lift it, let alone fight with it."

  "Will you shut up, Larny! Just give her the damn sword!"

  "Just a minute, Larny," Macurdy said, and stepped away from the spears at his back. "Let me see how heavy it is."

  Before anyone but Macurdy realized what was happening, Larny handed him the sword, and Macurdy leaped. Orthal never got his own sword up before Larny's heavy blade thrust him through below the ribs. Macurdy wheeled then, sword ready. "What in hell," he shouted, "does a man have to do to join this humping outfit?"

  Someone laughed, then someone else, then others, but most stood indecisively, till a voice called from overhead. "Macurdy! Macurdy! Men are coming on your trail!"

  "How many?"

  "More than ten!"

  "Someone go see who they are!" he shouted, and several rebels ran to their horses as if used to taking his orders. They'd barely mounted when a man galloped up from the sentry post in that direction.

  "Tarlok's coming! With recruits!"

  The rebels seemed glad to turn their attention to this new development. They waited, and within three or four minutes, a dozen men rode into the clearing. Their leader trotted up ahead of the others. "Good news!" he shouted. "There's been excitement in Gormin Town! The reeve strung up a couple dozen of Dell's and Wollerda's guys in the square. Then someone killed the guards and cut the prisoners loose, and the whole town went on a rampage! Burned half of it to the ground! Including the stockade!"

  "You see!" Wolf shouted. "I'm one of Wollerda's, and Macurdy's the one that cut us free. After knifing two of the guards himself."

  Earlier, the matter of Macurdy and his people had focused the rebels. The arrival of the recruiting party had dispersed that focus. Now Wolf had returned it to Macurdy, in a manner of
speaking; people were talking to each other about him, though leaving Macurdy pretty much to himself for the moment. Orthal lay ignored where he'd fallen.

  Slaney's second came over to Macurdy. "You really want to join up?" he asked.

  Macurdy examined the man's aura. It was the same general type as Arbel's; he was what Arbel called a student. Just now he was a bandit-rebel, and before that probably a farmer-herdsman, but beneath it all he was a student, perhaps of life. His aura seemed basically clean, with a zone suggesting a pragmatic nature. And he'd been Slaney's second, which meant he'd been accepted as capable, but took orders. Saner and smarter than Slaney though, and bigger, stronger-looking. So maybe not very aggressive.

  Aggressive enough to make a pitch to Orthal, Macurdy reminded himself, a pitch to save my neck. That took guts, with Slaney lying dead there. He grunted. "Do I really want to join up? Not exactly. I want to command this outfit. Turn it into the core of an army that can throw Gurtho down once and for all. And I need someone by me that knows these people: what they want, what they need. What their strong points are, and their weaknesses. You want the job?"

  The man didn't answer. Instead he said, "Don't be shy with them. They may not know it, but they're looking for a leader now. They want one. And they might accept a stranger. The right stranger."

  They. They. That explained the aural coolness, Macurdy decided. The man was a local, one of the group, but inwardly held a little apart from it. I believe I'm getting good at this aura analysis, Macurdy told himself. "Thanks," he said. "Who'll take over if I don't?"

  "Probably no one, with Slaney dead. And I expect they'll break up and drift home if someone doesn't take over."

  Macurdy nodded. "What's your name? And the guy's name that just came in with recruits?"

  "He's Tarlok. I'm Jesker."

  "Thanks." Macurdy spotted Tarlok at the center of a large cluster of rebels, and started over. Some of the rebels from Gormin Town were there too; Verned glanced his way and beckoned. The cluster opened on Macurdy's side as if to receive him.

  Let's do it, Macurdy told himself, and lengthened his stride.