Gel-Ethlin drew up his line on the open slope, with the road running at right angles through his center. There would be no need for his weary men to break ranks or advance until the enemy had shattered themselves against his front.
Under the still thickening clouds, the lowest vapors of which were swirling close above them, they waited on through the clammy twilit afternoon. From time to time there were rolls of thunder and once lightning struck in the ravine half a mile away, leaving a long red streak like a weal down the gray rock. Somehow the men had got wind of the magic bear. The Yeldashay spearmen had already produced a doggerel ballad about its hyperbolical (and increasingly ribald) exploits; while at the other end of the line some regimental buffoon seized his chance, capering and growling in an old ox hide, with arrowheads for claws on his fingers' ends.
At last Gel-Ethlin, from his command post on the road halfway down the slope, caught sight of the scouts returning down the hill among the trees. Balaklesh, running, reached him quickly. They had, he reported, come very suddenly upon the Ortelgans, who were advancing so fast that they themselves, already tired, had barely been able to get back ahead of them. As he spoke, Gel-Ethlin and those about him could hear, from the woods above, the growing hubbub and clatter of the approaching rabble. With a last word about the supreme importance of not breaking ranks until ordered, he dismissed his officers to their posts.
Waiting, he heard drops of rain beating on his helmet but at first could feel none on his outstretched hand. Then, filling all the distance, an undulating gauze of rain came billowing over the edge of the ravine from the left. A moment later the view below became blurred and a kind of growling sigh rose from the lines of soldiers on either side. Gel-Ethlin took half a dozen steps forward, as though to see better through the moving mist of rain. As he did so a band of shaggy-haired men, half-savage in appearance and carrying various weapons, came tramping together around the curve of the road below and stopped dead at the sight of the Beklan army confronting them.
21 The Passes of Gelt
TO BURN GELT had been no part of Ta-Kominion's intention. Nor could he find out who had done it, each of the barons denying all knowledge of how or where the fire had begun. Ta-Kominion, with his personal followers, had reached the wretched little square in the center of the town to find two sides already ablaze, the body of the chief lying with a spear in the back and a crowd of Ortelgans looting and drinking. He and Zelda, with a handful of the steadier men, beat some sort of order into them and--there being no water in the place except what could be scooped from two wells and one shrunken mountain brook--checked the fire by breaking up the huts downwind and dragging away the posts and straw. It was Zelda who pointed out that at all costs they must prevent any of the townspeople from carrying the news down to the plain. Guards were set on all roads and paths leading out of the town, while a young man named Jurit, to whom Ta-Kominion had that morning given Fassel-Hasta's command, led a reconnoitering force down the steep southward road to find out what lay before them.
Ta-Kominion sat on a bench in one of the dim, fly-buzzing huts, trying to convince four or five frightened, speechless town elders that he meant them no harm. From time to time he broke off, frowning and groping for words as the walls swam before his eyes and the sounds from outside rose and fell in his ears like talk from beyond a door continually opening and closing. He moved restlessly, feeling as though his body were wrapped in stiff ox hides. His wounded forearm throbbed and there was a tender swelling in his armpit. Opening his eyes, he saw the faces of the old men staring at him, full of wary curiosity.
He spoke of Lord Shardik, of the revealed destiny of Ortelga and the sure defeat of Bekla, and saw the dull disbelief and fear of reprisal and death which they could not keep from their eyes. At last one of them, shrewder perhaps than the rest, who must have been calculating the probable effect of what it had occurred to him to say, replied by telling him of the northern army of patrol under General Santil-ke-Erketlis which, if he were not mistaken--as well he might be, he added hastily, his cunning peasant's face assuming an expression of humility and deference--was due at this time to cross the plain below on its circuit to Kabin and beyond. Did the young lord mean to fight that army or would he seek to avoid it? Either way, it seemed best not to remain in Gelt, for the rains were due, were they not, and--he broke off, acting the part of one who knew his place and would not presume to advise the commander of so fine an army.
Ta-Kominion thanked him gravely, affecting not to be aware that it mattered little to those standing before him whether he went forward or back, so long as he left Gelt. If the old man had meant to frighten him, he had reckoned without the blazing faith in Shardik that filled every heart in the Ortelgan army. Probably the elders supposed that he intended only to raid one or two villages in the plain and then escape back over the hills with his booty--weapons, cattle and women--covered from pursuit by the onset of the rains.
Ta-Kominion, however, had never from the outset intended other than to seek out and destroy all enemy forces, whatever their strength, that might lie between himself and Bekla. His followers, he knew, would be content with nothing less. They meant to fight as soon as possible, since they knew that they could not be defeated. Shardik himself had already shown them what became of his enemies, and to Shardik it would make no difference whether his enemies were treacherous Ortelgan barons or patrolling Beklan soldiers.
The thought of the Beklan army, with which the crafty elder of Gelt had thought to dismay him, filled Ta-Kominicn only with a fierce and eager joy, restoring to him the will power to drive on his sick body and feverish mind.
Bowing to the old men, he left the hut and paced slowly up and down outside, heedless of the stinking refuse and the scab-mouthed, mucous-eyed children begging among his soldiers. Not for one moment did it occur to him to deliberate whether or not he should fight. Lord Shardik and he himself had already decided upon that. But on him, as Shardik's general, fell the task of deciding when and where. Even this did not occupy him long, for all his thoughts led to one and the same conclusion--that they should march straight on toward Bekla and fight the enemy wherever they might meet him on the open plain. There was scarcely any food to be commandeered in Gelt and the events of the afternoon had shown him how little real control he had over his men. The rains might come at any hour and despite Zelda's cordon the news could not long remain secret that Gelt had fallen to the Ortelgans. More immediate than all these, because he felt it within his own body, was the knowledge that soon he might become incapable of leading the army. Once the battle was won his illness would matter little, but his collapse before they fought would bring to his men misgiving and superstitious dread. Besides, he alone must command the battle. How else to become lord of Bekla?
Where was the Beklan army and how soon could they hope to meet it? The elders had said that the distance to the plain was about a day's march, and he could expect the enemy to seek him out as soon as they had news of him. They would be as eager for battle as himself. In all probability, therefore, he could expect to fight on the plain not later than the day after tomorrow. This must be his plan. He could make no better, could only offer to Lord Shardik his courage and zeal to use as he would. And to Shardik it must remain to delay the rains and bring the Beklans in their path.
Where was Shardik and what, if anything, had Kelderek achieved since he left him? No two ways about it, the fellow was a coward: yet it mattered little, if only he could somehow or other contrive to bring the bear to the army before they fought. If they won--as win they would--if indeed they came at last to take Bekla itself--what would Kelderek's place be then? And the Tuginda--that futile yet disturbing woman, whom he had sent back to Quiso under guard--what was to be done with her? There could be no authority that did not acknowledge his own. Get rid of them both, perhaps, and in some way alter the cult of Shardik accordingly? Later there would be time to decide such things. All that mattered now was the approaching battle.
Feeling sudden
ly faint, he sat down upon the rubble of a burned hut to recover himself. If, he thought, the sickness had not left him by the time the battle was over, he would send for the Tuginda and offer to reinstate her on condition that she cured him. Meanwhile, he could only rely on Kelderek to exercise authority in her name. But it was important that the fellow should be urged on to complete his task.
He stood up, steadied himself against the still-standing door post until the surge of giddiness had passed off, and then made his way back to the hut. The elders had left and, calling his servant Numiss, he gave him a brief message to carry to Kelderek, stressing that he expected to fight within two days. As soon as he had made sure that the man had his words by heart, he asked Zelda to see to his safe conduct through the pickets and himself lay down to sleep, giving orders that all was to be ready for the march to continue at dawn next day.
He slept heavily, undisturbed by the looting, raping and drunkenness that broke out again at nightfall and continued unchecked, none of the barons caring to run the risk of trying to stop it. When at last he woke, he knew at once that he was not merely ill, but worse than he had been in his life before. His arm was so swollen that the bandage was pressing into the flesh, yet he felt that he could not bear to cut it. His teeth chattered, his throat was so sore that he could scarcely swallow and as he sat up pain throbbed behind his eyes. He got up and staggered to the door. Gusts of warm wind were blowing from the west and the sky was thick with low cloud. The sun was not to be seen, but nevertheless he knew that it must be well after dawn. He leaned against the wall, trying to summon the strength to go and rouse the men who should have been obeying his orders.
It was not until an hour before noon that the army at last set out. Their pace was slow, several of the soldiers having burdened themselves with such loot as they had been able to come by--cooking pots, mattocks, stools, the sorry and valueless possessions of men poorer than themselves. Many marched with aching heads and curdled stomachs. Ta-Kominion, no longer able to conceal his illness, walked in a confused and troubled dream. He scarcely remembered what had happened that morning, or what he had done to get the men on their feet. He could recall the return of Numiss, with his report that Shardik had been drugged at the cost of a priestess's life. Kelderek, so the message ran, hoped to overtake them by nightfall. The last nightfall, thought Ta-Kominion, before the destruction of the Beklan army. When that was done, he would rest.
The narrow road wound along the sides of steep, wooded ravines sheltered from the wind, against rock faces where the brown ferns drooped for rain. For a long time the sound of an invisible torrent rose up from below, through mists that swirled hither and back but dispersed no more than did the cloud above. All was solitude and echo, and soon the men ceased to sing, to jest or even to talk beyond a few words in low voices. One tattered fellow, loosing an arrow, hit a buzzard as it swooped above them and, proud of his marksmanship, slung the carcass around his neck until, as the parasites began to creep from the cooling body, he slung it over a precipice with a curse. Once or twice, looking out across the tops of trees, they caught glimpses of the plain below, and of tiny herds of cattle galloping among the windy dust clouds. In superstitious dread of these wild hills they pressed on, many glancing uneasily about them and carrying their weapons drawn in their hands.
The straggling horde covered more than two miles of the track and there were no means of passing orders save by word of mouth. Between two and three hours after noon, however, when they had descended below the mists and the higher hills, a halt took place without any order being given, the several companies and bands coming up to find the vanguard fallen out and resting in an open wood. Ta-Kominion limped among the men, talking and joking with them as though in a trance, less to encourage than to let them see him and try to learn for himself what fettle they were in. Now that they had left the sheer solitudes which had disquieted and subdued them, their ardor was returning and they seemed as eager as ever to join battle. Yet Ta-Kominion--who as a lad of seventeen had fought beside Bel-ka-Trazet at Clenderzard and three years later commanded the household company which his father had sent to Yelda to fight in the slave wars--could sense how green and unseasoned was their fervor. In one way, he knew, this might be counted to the good, for in their first battle men spend what they can never recover to spend again, so that that battle--even for those for whom it is not the last--may well be their best. But the toll taken of such inexperienced fervor was likely to be high. From such troops little could be expected in the way of disciplined maneuver or steadiness under attack. The best way to use their rough, untrained quality would be simply to bring them quickly to the plain and let them assault the enemy in full strength and on open ground.
A spasm seized him and the trees before his eyes dissolved into circling shapes of yellow, green and brown. Somewhere far off, it seemed, rain was beating on the leaves. He listened, but then realized that the sound lay within his own ear, as full of pain as an egg is full of yolk. He had a fancy to break it open and watch the thick, fluid pain spill over the ground at his feet.
Someone was speaking to him. He opened his eyes yet once more and raised his head. It was Kavass, his father's fletcher, a decent, simple-minded man who had taught him his archery as a boy. With him were four or five comrades who--or so it seemed to Ta-Kominion--had prevailed upon Kavass to come and ask the commander to settle some difference among them. The fletcher, who was tall, as tall as himself, was looking at him with respectful sympathy and pity. In reply he grimaced and then managed to force a wry smile.
"Touch of the fever, sir, eh?" said Kavass deferentially. Everything about him--his stance, his look and the sound of his voice--tended to confirm Ta-Kominion in his leadership and at the same time to emphasize their common humanity.
"Seems like it, Kavass," he answered. His words boomed in his own head, but he could not tell whether in fact he was speaking loud or low. "It'll pass off." Clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering, he missed what Kavass said next, and was about to turn away when he realized that they were all waiting for him to reply. He remained silent but looked steadily at Kavass as though expecting him to say something more. Kavass seemed confused.
"Well, I only meant, sir--and no disrespect, I'm sure--when he came ashore that morning, when you was with him, whether he told you he'd appear again, like--that he'd be there to make sure we won the battle," said Kavass.
Ta-Kominion continued to stare at him, guessing at his meaning. The men became uneasy.
"Nothing to do with us," muttered one. "I said as 'twas nothing to do with us."
"Well, only it's like this, sir," pursued Kavass. "I was one of the first beside you that morning, and when Lord Shardik went over the water, you told us he knew Ortelga was as good as taken and he was off to Bekla--to show us the way, like. And what the lads was wondering, sir, was whether he's going to be there to win for us when we come to fight?"
"We're bound to win, aren't we, sir?" said another of the men. "It's the will of Shardik--the will of God."
"How do you know?" said a fourth, a surly, skeptical-looking fellow with blackened teeth. He spat on the ground. "D'you think a bear talks, eh? Think a bear talks?"
"Not to you," replied Kavass contemptuously. "Of course, he don't talk to the likes of you--or me either, for the matter of that. What I told you was that Lord Shardik had said we was to march on Bekla and that he was going there himself. So it stands to reason he's going to appear when we fight the battle. If you don't place no reliance on Lord Shardik, why are you here?"
"Well, it's all according, ain't it?" said the man with the blackened teeth. "He might be there and then again he might not. All I said was, Bekla's a strong place. There's soldiers--"
"Be quiet!" cried Ta-Kominion. He walked across to the man as steadily as he was able, took his chin in his hand and lifted his head as he tried to focus his eyes on his face. "You blasphemous fool! Lord Shardik can hear you now--and see you as well! But you will not see him until the appoin
ted time, for he means to test your faith."
The man, twenty years older than Ta-Kominion at least, stared back at him sullenly without a word.
"You can be sure of this," said Ta-Kominion, in a voice that could be heard by everyone nearby. "Lord Shardik intends to fight for those that trust him. And he will appear when they fight--he will appear to those that deserve it! But not to those who deserve a wood louse for a God."
As he stumbled away he wondered yet again how long Kelderek would need to overtake them. If all went well it might be possible, while the army encamped that night, to discuss with Kelderek how best they could make use of Shardik. Whatever might be disclosed afterward by Baltis and the other men who were now with Kelderek, Shardik must appear to the enemy in awe-inspiring power--he must not be displayed insensible and drugged. Also, it would be better to keep him away from the men altogether until he was revealed at the proper time, which would presumably be immediately before the battle. Yet Ta-Kominion knew that he himself would not be able to retrace even a mile of the road tonight. If Kelderek did not reach the army he would have to send Zelda back to find him and speak with him. As for himself, he could not go on much longer without a rest. He must lie down and sleep. But if he did so, would he be able to get up again?
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