by Roger Taylor
Sylvriss leaned forward to interrupt, but Eldric continued. ‘And it's a long way to Dremark at the best of times. Please ask yourself if it's fair to either you or your child to undertake such a difficult journey at such a time, on a whim.'
The last phrase slipped out inadvertently. It was as unhappy a choice of word as his earlier ‘can't'. Sylvriss bridled. ‘Lord Eldric, take care. You above all know I'm not given to idle fancies. Even less am I given to indulging them. There are admittedly strong emotional reasons why I'd like to return to my father's house for the birth, but there are powerful practical ones as well.'
Eldric lifted his hands in apology, but allowed as much doubt into his face as good manners would allow.
Sylvriss sat down beside him. ‘Eldric,’ she said simply. ‘You and the others are preparing to obey Rgoric's last command; a command which I endorse. You must be in a position to dedicate your every effort to that completely. Almost certainly you're going to have to lead Fyordyn against Fyordyn before Dan-Tor is driven from the country, and if the horror of that is to be kept to a minimum your forces must be overwhelmingly superior to his in every way; you know that. It's going to be difficult enough to achieve this without squandering your time and resources tending a pregnant woman.'
'Majesty, there are other pregnant women here...’ Eldric protested.
Sylvriss cut across him. ‘True,’ she said. ‘And while they'll be well tended, they'll not get a fraction of the care and effort that will be lavished on me, will they? That's hardly going to improve morale, is it?'
Eldric gesticulated vaguely, at a loss to answer this reproach. Sylvriss nodded knowingly. ‘If I stay here, I'll be a needless drain on vital resources and an extra concern to you when you'll have far more serious matters to attend to.'
'No, Majesty.’ Eldric had recovered himself. ‘Protecting you and your child, our King's heir, is our willing duty. It will increase our resolve...'
'Please Eldric.’ Sylvriss's concerns showed on her face. ‘We know one another well enough not to bandy superficialities like this. I've not come to this decision lightly, but I'm quite resolved. I know the journey won't be easy, but it can be done, and in the weighing I think it'll be for the best. I know also that my leaving may give you some morale problems, but that lies in the telling of the tale, not the deed itself.'
She laid her hand on his arm. ‘We must look to the end of all this, Eldric. The very end. Not just the removal of Dan-Tor and the re-establishment of the Geadrol and such of the old ways as have not been destroyed utterly, but the destruction of Sumeral himself. If we look to less we will achieve less, and to achieve less than that will be to achieve nothing.'
Eldric looked into the Queen's eyes. There was a quality in her voice that reached deep inside him. A fitting Queen for the King, he thought, both the one who was and the one who might have been.
'Tell the people the truth,’ Sylvriss continued. ‘Tell them who Dan-Tor is. Tell them what he is, and who his Master is. And tell them that winning our country back from him is but a grim skirmish prior to a more terrible war—the destruction of that Master.’ Her voice became sad. ‘Perhaps it's the hardest step we have to take, because we must take it alone. If Fyordyn must fight Fyordyn, then no outlanders can help in such a conflict without making the legacy of bitterness far worse.’ She paused pensively, then said more resolutely. ‘But tell them that when it's done, the Orthlundyn and the Riddinvolk will ride to their side to face the greater enemy. Tell them that Isloman and I have gone to prepare our own people for this.'
Eldric sat silent for some time, staring out into the cold rain that a blustering wind was swirling and twisting around the courtyard outside. Occasionally a gust would rattle drops against the window like a frantic messenger trying to rouse a sleeping household.
'It may be said that you fled in our hour of need, Majesty,’ he said reluctantly. Sylvriss bowed her head for a moment then looked at him again. She made no attempt to keep her fear from her face.
'I know that,’ she said. ‘I told you this was no easy decision. I'm many things, Eldric. Riddinvolk and Fyordyn. A woman, a Muster rider, your Queen, a wife...’ She faltered. ‘...a widow. Now, soon, a mother. I've tried to order my needs and my duties honestly, but above all I must protect my child, at whatever cost.'
She held Eldric's gaze again. ‘I've faced many trials over the years, Eldric,’ she said. ‘I don't think I'd flee just for my own sake. But if the question is put to you, answer it with the question I asked myself—could I ask Rgoric's unborn child to face the power that Dan-Tor, Oklar, launched against Vakloss?'
Eldric turned away and nodded. The question was central to the strategic and tactical debates that had been continuing for over a month since Rgoric's Dith-Galar. The reports they had received from Vakloss told them that little or nothing had been seen of Dan-Tor since the fateful day of Rgoric's murder, but gave no reasons. Was he wounded and dying? Had he been exhausted in some way by the terrible destruction he had wrought? Was he simply indifferent to the rantings of a few disgruntled Lords in the east? No consensus had emerged.
But the Queen's remark brought to the forefront of his thoughts an idea that, because of the apparent inactivity from Vakloss, had been allowed to dwindle into insignificance in their deliberations. What if Dan-Tor should bring his army across the country and use his power to strike directly at the heart of the resistance to his will?
In the wake of this came, for the first time, two starker, more terrifying, thoughts. Firstly, that the very presence of the Queen might invite such an assault, and secondly, worse by far, the realization that Dan-Tor needed no army. What if he were actually coming here now! Eldric cursed his memory. Had not Dan-Tor struck at Hawklan unaided? And had it not been a subject of some amusement for years in the Geadrol that Dan-Tor often chose to wander abroad alone and unescorted?
Without comment he stood up and walked quickly to the door. Opening it he beckoned urgently to a waiting servant. ‘Get Commander Yatsu, immediately,’ he said. The servant ran off at great speed, impelled more by Eldric's manner than his actual command.
Closing the door, Eldric turned back and looked at Isloman and the Queen. Both were staring at him in bewilderment and some mild alarm at this sudden action.
You could perish here at a wave of that creature's hand, Eldric thought, and how prepared then would Riddin and Orthlund be? He cursed himself again.
'You're right, Majesty,’ he said briskly. ‘And I was wrong. I commend your clarity of vision.’ He paused and glanced out of the window. ‘But it's still a difficult journey. If the winter comes early...’ His voice showed genuine concern. ‘Still, there's nothing to be gained by delay—the winter comes only nearer as does your term, my dear. We must act immediately.'
The door opened without announcement, and Yatsu entered with Varak at his shoulder. ‘We were just...’ he began.
Eldric cut across him. ‘Double all the border patrols and put the castle and all outposts on battle alert immediately, Commander.’ Yatsu's eyes widened questioningly. Eldric answered him bluntly. ‘In our concern to raise and prepare our army, Commander, we'd all forgotten that Dan-Tor likes to travel alone.'
For a moment Yatsu stood motionless and Eldric saw his own inner reproaches reflected in the Goraidin's eyes. Without a word he turned and left. Eldric nodded to Varak to follow him.
'Now, Majesty,’ Eldric said, easier in his manner now. ‘Your journey. Fortunately the mountains contain no dangers other than natural ones, but they're severe enough. With your permission therefore, I shall arrange an escort of two Goraidin and four good High Guards, if that's acceptable.'
Before the Queen could reply, he added, ‘Could I ask you perhaps, to choose the horses?’ Then, ‘I'll see that one of the Guards is a serving healer.'
'A stitcher of wounds and gashes?’ Sylvriss said unintentionally.
Eldric cleared his throat. ‘Healing is healing, Majesty, but of course Hylland will choose the man.'
&nb
sp; 'I didn't mean to seem ungrateful,’ Sylvriss said. ‘But your sudden change of heart took me aback. You needn't worry about my health, I'm as fit as a brood mare.'
Eldric closed his eyes briefly at this unexpected allusion. ‘Please, Majesty. There's the child to think of, and others can be hurt on such a journey.'
'Yes,’ Sylvriss acknowledged thoughtfully, slowly adjusting to Eldric's urgency. ‘And the horses might have problems.'
Isloman smiled as Eldric shot him a quick look of resignation.
'I'll need no escort,’ he volunteered helpfully. ‘A spare horse, perhaps, some supplies and a good map of the mountains will be sufficient.'
Eldric looked at him pensively.
'I'm no use here,’ Isloman said, fearing that he was about to be subjected to Eldric's persuasions. ‘I have to look after Hawklan, which means I can't even help with the training of your High Guards. And between us, Hawklan and I are hardly contributing a great deal to the preparation of your battle plans, are we?'
As if to highlight his ineffectiveness, the sound of urgent activity about the castle drifted into the room as Yatsu and Varak began to implement Eldric's order.
Eldric nodded. ‘I understand, Isloman,’ he said. ‘Besides, it's been obvious for some time you've been growing increasingly concerned about your country and your people. To be honest, it's been thoughtless of me not to make arrangements for your return sooner, but Hawklan's presence seems to add something to...’ He left the comment unfinished.
'Hawklan's presence may bring Dan-Tor down on you more surely than the Queen's,’ Isloman said, echoing Eldric's earlier fears.
Eldric's expression agreed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I'm afraid you're right. And I'm afraid we're all going to have to sharpen our wits in future if we're missing such matters.’ He clapped his hands and became brisk. ‘However, you'll need help through the mountains. It's a longer journey than the Queen's and almost certainly you'll be caught by the winter. But I think one of the Goraidin and a High Guard will suffice,’ he concluded.
Isloman shook his head, but Eldric brushed his intended refusal aside. ‘No,’ he said. ‘The safety of both of you is important.’ He looked at the Queen and then back at Isloman. ‘But I'm afraid it's even more important that someone—anyone—must take the news of what's happened here to the Riddinvolk and the Orthlundyn.'
His manner brooked no debate. ‘Looking to the end, as you rightly advised, Majesty, it's vitally important that both your countries understand what has happened here, no matter what happens to any of us in the future.’ He leaned forward earnestly. ‘If possible, Riddin and Orthlund should act together in some way. At the very least they should establish good lines of communication with one another and with us here. We've restarted Goraidin training specifically with this in mind.’ He looked out of the window again at the grey obscuring rain.
'We know nothing of His plans, His forces, anything,’ he said, half to himself. ‘Perhaps our torment here is just a diversion ... a probe to test our strength and our will. Whatever it is, we know that only we can face it.’ He turned and pointed at his listeners. ‘But you mustn't make the mistake of imagining that it's the totality of His present purpose.’ He frowned. ‘We don't even know how the western Lords stand in relation to Dan-Tor. If they're his, then Sumeral could send forces across their lands and direct into Orthlund. They've taken a Mandroc patrol through unhindered already, haven't they? Would the conquest of Orthlund take long, Isloman?'
Although quietly put, it was a harsh question and both he and Isloman knew the answer. Isloman remembered Hawklan saying that the only thing which might have stopped the Mandrocs marching through the length of Orthlund, was fatigue.
'I can't say,’ he replied. ‘There were plans for defence afoot when we left, but we're not many, and we've no military tradition.'
Eldric nodded. ‘And once in Orthlund they could move across into Riddin.'
'There aren't many routes through the mountains,’ Isloman said.
'There are enough,’ Eldric said curtly, ‘if my memory serves me. Enough for them to move quietly through, wait for a second force to be sent down the Pass of Elewart to draw the Muster north, and then attack their flanks or their rear.’ He shook his head. ‘While we keep our eyes so intently on Oklar, He could move around us and out into the world, leaving us as just a noisy irrelevance.'
It was a grim and chilling picture and, shifting uneasily, Isloman frowned. Sylvriss too, looked pale, and even Eldric seemed unsettled by his own impromptu analysis. He sat down and rested his head on his hand gloomily.
'Ah well,’ he said with a sigh. ‘At least I'm starting to think straight again.’ He tapped the arm of his chair impatiently. ‘But I wish I knew more about ... about everything in this mess ... forces, dispositions, intentions ... anything.’ His voice trailed off.
There was a brief, uncertain silence, then Isloman spoke, almost cheerfully. ‘Well, He knows no more about you than you do about Him, Eldric. That's what war's about; uncertainty. But you at least have your Goraidin like eyes and ears all over the countryside. And I'll wager you have, at worst, the passive loyalty of many ordinary people throughout the entire land.’ His voice fell to a whisper. ‘And a great many people like Dilrap watching and waiting, and perhaps quietly acting. What servant of Dan-Tor's could come so near the heart of your counsels?'
Eldric looked at him seriously for a moment, then smiled. ‘Ethriss protect me from optimists,’ he said, standing up. ‘But you're right. I'm sorry. It was just a passing darkness. A patrol can be led anywhere by stealth but I find it difficult to imagine any of the western Lords allowing a Mandroc army over their land other than under the direst threat.'
'And no one would attack through the Pass of Elewart unless they already held the north of Riddin in its entirety,’ Sylvriss added. ‘However, your reasoning was sound, and such a thing could come to pass if we aren't vigilant. It confirms the rightness of our decision to leave. With Hawklan and me away, you'll be less vulnerable, freer to take action, and easier in your heart to know that allies are being sought. I accept your escort—and the healer. We'll leave tomorrow, if that's possible.'
Eldric allowed himself a brief look of regretful resignation then bowed formally to the Queen and looked at Isloman. ‘And you, Orthlundyn?’ he asked.
Isloman nodded in confirmation. ‘We also,’ he replied.
* * * *
'Farewell, Majesty,’ Isloman said, looking down at the Queen.
Sylvriss wrinkled her nose. ‘Don't call me that, Isloman,’ she said. ‘It comes ill from you. I'm not your ruler, nor will anyone ever be. Muster woman is as much honour as I could wish from anyone, and Sylvriss will suffice.'
Isloman smiled awkwardly, then swung up on to Serian behind the mute form of Hawklan. He held out his huge hand. Sylvriss took it in both of hers. ‘Take care, Muster woman,’ he said. ‘You've been a rare companion. I'll miss you.'
Sylvriss squeezed his hand. ‘And I you, carver,’ she said. ‘But we'll meet again, have no fear. And guard your charge well. My heart tells me his worth is beyond measure.'
Eldric joined them. ‘A little chilly,’ he said, clapping his hands together. ‘But it should be a fine day.'
Around them the peaks of the higher mountains were already being touched by the light of the rising sun, while far to the west could be seen the remains of the clouds that had so peevishly shed their rains the previous day. Above them the sky was pale but hopeful, and Gavor, the merest black speck, circled diligently.
Eldric became solicitous. ‘You have everything?’ he asked anxiously. Both Isloman and the Queen reassured him patiently.
'I'm sorry,’ he said. ‘I've asked that before, haven't I?'
'Only a dozen or so times,’ Isloman laughed.
'Yes, I'm sorry,’ he said again. ‘To be honest, I'm not keen on partings, but I'm doing my best. I'll miss you both very much, and Hawklan, and I'll be mightily relieved when I hear you're both safe with your own people.'
'We'll be relieved to send you that news,’ Isloman said. Then he reached into a pouch at his waist and took out two small stone discs. ‘I nearly forgot,’ he said. ‘A small gift for each of you.'
He handed one to Sylvriss and the other to Eldric. Sylvriss thanked him with a surprised smile, and Eldric grunted self-consciously. There was a brief, slightly awkward silence as each examined their gift.
'I'd have preferred to give you something a little better,’ Isloman said. ‘Miniatures aren't my strong point and I only had my knife point...'
His disclaimer was interrupted by exclamations from the two recipients.
'It's amazing,’ said Eldric cocking his head on one side and repeatedly turning the disc to view it from different angles. ‘It's Hawklan on Serian.'
'He moves as the stone moves,’ Sylvriss said, imitating Eldric, her eyes wide. ‘How have you done that? It's like the Crystal Room at the Palace.’ Her voice faltered a little at the memory.
Isloman caught the hesitation. ‘It's my hope for the future,’ he said. ‘Not my memory of the past. Make it yours as well.'
Sylvriss nodded and, still looking at the small carving, mounted her horse. Eldric gave his a last appreciative turn and placed it in his pocket. Then, without any further comment, he bowed to the Queen, saluted Isloman, and, clearing his throat, turned back to the castle.
Isloman and Sylvriss looked at one another for a moment, then Sylvriss urged her horse forward and clattered off through the open castle gate. Isloman watched her for a moment and then turned to Yengar who, together with Olvric, was in charge of the Queen's escort. ‘I'd hurry after her if I were you,’ he said, with a grin. ‘She's liable to be halfway to Riddin before she remembers you're supposed to be with her.'
Laughing quietly to himself, he watched as the six men rode out of the courtyard in pursuit of their charge. Then he looked around at Eldric's mountain castle. In the increasing claustrophobia of their re-emerging wartime thinking, all had agreed that the departures of the Queen and Hawklan should be as inconspicuous as possible. Even their true destinations were not to be announced for several days.