No man had any w ish to pass beneath the tw isted branches of the unnatural trees, and so they set off to the w est, seeking to circumvent the disturbing woodland that blocked their w ay.
The ride took them hours longer than it ought to have, for they were forced far to the w est by the sudden grow th of the forest, though thankfully the sounds of the pursuit had faded. It w as nearing midnight w hen they finally rode towards the camp, on the flat-topped hill of Adhalind's Seat. The night was eerily silent as peasants ran to greet them, and they slid wearily from their saddles. Looking around, Calard saw that, of the knights who had set out that day, less than half had returned. Still, for all that, he knew that they had been lucky. Had it not been for Anara's w arning, he was certain that none of them w ould have returned.
Kegan had clearly arrived back at the camp some time earlier, and preparations for an attack w ere under w ay. Braziers had been lit around the perimeter of Adhalind's Seat, and men-at-arms and peasant bow men stood ready. Sentries patrolled the low lands around the flat-topped hill, wary for any sign of the enemy. The majority of the knights in the camp w ere fully armed and armoured, and sat in their saddles, ready for battle. The remainder w ere also fully armoured, and their horses were tethered nearby. It w ould take but a shout from a sentry for them to be ready to face the hated foe.
Calard's w ounded side pained him, and he knew that his dressing needed changing, but he follow ed Baron Montcadas to his war tent, leading Anara gently by her arm.
She seemed in no w ay adverse to the contact now, and Calard w alked with his chin held high, hearing the awed whispers of the gathered knights as they saw the revered damsel of the Lady on his arm.
Montcadas called the senior knights of Bastonne to him, and Calard felt a flush of pride that he w as included in their mix, though he knew that this was more to do w ith his kinship with Anara than anything else.
Calard glanced around the ostentatious tent, looking upon the faces of the powerful nobles. There were ten men gathered, all nobles of Bastonne, except for the empire envoy, Dieter Weschler, who had graciously been allowed to attend this war-meeting and the aw e-inspiring figure of the questing knight, Gundehar of Raisol, who stood leaning upon the pommel of his massive two-handed sword. Two of the knights were vassals of his father, and three were sworn to Sangasse. The remainder were vassel lords of Montcadas. With a stab of guilt, he realised that Gunthar should have been present, being one of the more respected knights in the camp.
'First, let me introduce and w elcome the lady Anara of Garamont, damsel of the Lady,' said the baron. The knights bow ed to her respectfully, and Calard smiled inw ardly at the look the Sangasse lords shared betw een them. 'I give thanks to the Lady that she has come.'
Anara accepted the bow s of the knights without expression. 'Of Garamont no longer,'
she said. 'I am a handmaiden of the Lady, and to her alone am I tied.' Calard looked at her, aggrieved, but she ignored him.
'My apologies,' said the baron. His broad face w as serious as he stared around at the gathered knights, looking at each man in turn. 'The Lady Anara has seen that a great force marches against us. Even now, it gathers in the darkness, readying to descend upon us.'
'Good!' said one man forcefully, echoing the thoughts of all the knights. 'The enemy has avoided pitched battle for too long.'
'Indeed,' boomed Montcadas. 'How ever, the force that marshals against us is pow erful, and it is not an honourable foe. We will be heavily outnumbered, and they are certain to attack under the cover of darkness.'
'Bah!' said one knight. 'We have nothing to fear from the darkness! We are knights of Bretonnia! Each knight is more than a match for five of the enemy.' Murmurs of agreement met this statement, and Calard felt his chest swell.
'They are a cunning enemy,' said the questing knight, Gundehar. They were the first w ords that Calard had heard the lean, unshaven knight speak, and his voice was deep and strong. 'They are not to be underestimated.'
'With respect, lord Gundehar, are they not merely beasts?' asked one of the Sangasse knights. 'They will not attack a pow erfully defended position in a pitched battle, surely?'
'If there are enough of them, and they are confident of victory, they will, Beldane,'
said Gundehar, 'and w e know not w hat they seek to achieve here.'
'Achieve?' laughed the knight, Beldane. 'They do not think like you or I. They are driven to kill and destroy, nothing deeper than that.'
'In my experience, they are not an unthinking enemy,' said Gundehar coolly. 'They are more subtle than the greenskins, who I agree, seek nothing more than bloodshed and battle. No, there is something at w ork here, though I am not w ise enough to see w hat it is.'
Montcadas frow ned. 'What do you mean?' he asked.
'The enemy has been attacking, apparently at random, all across the eastern edge of Bordeleaux. In doing so, they forced the duke's hand, making him split his forces to cover a w ide area. Their attacks have been unfocused and chaotic. No pattern could be read in their movements, but now , their entire attention has been drawn here. For w hat? It seems to me that their previous attacks have not been random. It is more like they have been searching for something, and they have found it, here.'
'Searching for w hat?' asked Calard, speaking before he could stop himself. All eyes in the tent turned tow ards him, and he reddened, dropping his gaze to the floor. He felt Anara's eyes burning into him.
'I don't know ,' admitted Gundehar.
'It matters not at all to me w hat they are doing here,' growled Montcadas. 'All that matters is that they are coming. We are faced w ith a deadly foe, and I have gathered you here to plan how to fight it.'
'How do w e know they are massing against us?' asked Haydon, one of the Garamont knights, a broad-shouldered, balding noble. 'Could this not just be another feint?'
'The beast is w atching us, even now,' said Anara suddenly, her voice vague and distant, her eyes misted. Calard felt the temperature w ithin the tent drop sharply, and he could see his breath in the air before him. It continued to drop, and he saw beads of condensation form upon the sides of a goblet of w ater that sat upon the circular table that dominated the tent.
'The forest is alive with movement,' said Anara in a ghostly, unnerving voice. Ice was forming on the surface w ater within the goblet. 'I see children of Chaos beyond number. Their lust for violence is great, but the beast holds them in check, restraining their urges. Sacrifices are being prepared. The beast is calling more of its dark kin to its side.'
Anara blinked, as if waking from a deep slumber, and the temperature in the room began to return to normal. Her eyes came back into focus, and she looked Montcadas squarely in the eyes. 'The attack w ill not come this night. It w ill come tomorrow , at dusk.'
The silence in the tent w as stifling, and the knights shuffled their feet, their faces pale.
Montcadas cleared his throat. 'Thank you, lady,' he said graciously, bow ing his head to Anara.
'We know that they are many, and w e know when the attack w ill come. All w e can do is make ready for it. Kegan, w hat preparations have you made?'
Clearly still discomforted by Anara's display of power, the knight swallowed thickly.
'The men-at-arms and peasants of Garamont, Sangasse and Montcadas are all standing at the ready. They are posted around the perimeter of the camp, and I have ordered braziers lit. Sentries patrol the fields below Adhalind's Seat, to forew arn us of an attack, though it seems that tonight they are unnecessary,' he said, with a nod tow ards Anara. 'There is one patrol still out there, accompanied by the young Earl of Sangasse, Maloric. Outriders are seeking them. They are due back by midnight. I have also sent a request for aid to the duke's forces in the north: five men, riding the camp's sw iftest steeds.'
'They are already dead,' said Anara. 'The message will not be received.'
'We can expect no aid in this battle, then,' said Montcadas.
'That is not quite correct,' said Anara.
'I visited the grail knight Reolus as his body slumbered. Even now, he is leading a force to us. They will arrive before sunset tomorrow .'
'Reolus? He comes here?' asked Calard.
'He does, brother,' said Anara.
'Well, that is w elcome news,' said Montcadas. He turned his broad, bearded face tow ards Kegan. 'You have done w ell. Go now, and relieve the foot soldiers from their state of readiness, and pass the word for the knights to stand dow n. Let them get some rest. By the sounds of it, w e shall be in for a long night tomorrow .'
The knight took his leave, and Montcadas cleared the circular table in the centre of the tent. He produced a scroll of rolled, faded parchment and spread it out across the table. The gathered knights closed around it, and Calard saw that it w as an intricate map. Villages, w oodland and castles were painted in minute detail, and illustrations of dragons and other beasts decorated the edges of the parchment. Its colour had long since faded, but the details w ere mostly clear. Calard could see Adhalind's Seat marked upon it, and a small grail icon marked the position of the nearby shrine.
'The Forest of Chalons, marked here,' said Montcadas, indicating the area of faded green on the eastern edge of the map, 'is obviously now inaccurate. However, the remaining details are accurate as far as I can make out, and the scale is true.'
He turned and called for a servant. 'Bring us food and w ine,' he ordered, before turning back to pore over the map.
'Now ,' he said, 'w e must discuss our strategy.'
CALARD YAWNED HEAVILY. The night had been long and the discussions of strategy and tactics had raged back and forth for hours. Anara had excused herself and retired to the Baron of Montcadas's personal tent, for he had graciously given it over to her use. Much of the discussion had gone over Calard's head, and he found his thoughts drifting to his sister, and to Gunthar. Gundehar's words haunted him, and he turned them over in his mind again and again. The beasts w ere searching for something, the questing knight had said.
At last, a plan of action had been agreed, and the meeting concluded. Glancing up at the sky, he saw that Mannslieb w as sinking towards the horizon, and he estimated that it w as around tw o hours past midnight. He yaw ned again, but did not move tow ards his tent, though his pallet w as calling to him.
Instead, he made his w ay through the quiet camp. Knights, unable or unwilling to sleep, nodded to him as he passed by their fires.
Word had come to the baron's w ar tent that Maloric and his knights had returned from their patrol, though they w ere bloodied and more than half their number had been lost in an ambush by the beasts of the forest. Calard w as glad that the young Sangasse nobleman had not fallen. They would need every man capable of w ielding a sw ord in the battle the next night, and besides, he would have felt cheated if Maloric had been slain.
Picking his way betw een the tents, Calard came to the one he sought, and slipped inside quietly.
Strong smelling herbs w ere burning in a small brazier in the corner of the tent, but they could not fully mask the foul scent of sickness that assailed Calard as he entered.
A single candle burned w ithin, and it took a moment for Calard's eyes to adjust to the gloom. Moving as quietly as he w as able, he moved to the bedside and looked dow n upon the sleeping form of Gunthar.
The w eapon master had aged dramatically in the days since his injury. His face was gaunt and pale, etched w ith heavy wrinkles and lines, and his eyes were sunken and hollow . A sheen of sweat covered his brow , and his breathing was almost imperceptible.
Several basins of bloody w ater stood beside the pallet, and rags w ere soaking within them.
Gently, so as not to w ake the injured knight, Calard lifted the blankets covering Gunthar to look at the w ound, wrinkling his nose against the foul smell. Ganelon's sw ord had stabbed deep into his thigh, and it was clear that it w as not healing well.
It w as open, w eeping pus and blood, and the flesh around it w as a bruised, angry colour. Calard placed the blankets back dow n gently, his heart heavy.
His ow n wound was healing well, but it had been far less serious than Gunthar's.
'You are a young man, strong and healthy,' the diminutive surgeon had said. 'Your body w ill heal quickly.' Gunthar, however, was not a young man.
Wringing out a cloth, Calard dabbed the sw eat from Gunthar's forehead. The weapon master's skin felt hot and feverish to the touch. The injured knight stirred, and opened his eyes. He looked up at Calard, standing over him, and he smiled.
'Well met, Calard,' he breathed.
'How are you feeling?' asked Calard.
'Good,' replied the ageing knight, his voice weak. 'Give me a day, and I w ill be back in the saddle, as strong as ever.'
Calard smiled sadly, but did not refute the w eapon master.
'I hear tell that you found your sister,' said Gunthar.
Calard nodded, smiling. He pulled up a chair, and turned it around before sitting himself down. 'She is a damsel of the Lady now.'
Gunthar smiled sleepily. 'Your mother would have been proud, proud of you both.'
Calard looked dow n. 'I do not feel proud of myself,' he said. 'You shouldn't be lying here.'
'I w ill be fine. I've suffered worse wounds.'
'They say that you w ill not... not ride again, Gunthar,' said Calard, his voice full of sadness. Gunthar scoffed at his words.
'I w ill ride again. What sort of knight w ould I be if I could not ride into battle for my lord? Or for my lord's son? I w ill be fine, Calard. You w ill see.'
Calard smiled at the w eapon master's certainty.
'Don't be too hard on yourself,' said Gunthar. 'You are young, and all young men are eager and rash. It is their nature to act in such a manner, convinced of their ow n immortality. I w as young too once.'
'Never!' said Calard, gently mocking. Then his face grew more serious. 'There will be a great battle tomorrow . The enemy is gathering against us.'
'So I hear,' said Gunthar, 'but the Lady is w ith us. We w ill be victorious, or w e will not.' He shrugged. 'In the big scheme of things, it matters little. The mountains will still exist long after we are forgotten by history. Ah, listen to me, I am old, and getting morbid in my dotage.'
'You are not so old, Gunthar.'
The w eapon master smiled. 'And you are a bad liar, for w hich I am pleased.'
Calard stared into the candle flame, and the silence deepened betw een them. 'It is strange to see Anara again,' he said at last.
'Oh? How so?'
'For almost fifteen years I have prayed to the Lady to bring her back into my life, and now that she has, I find that she has... changed. She is not the girl I remembered.'
'And you are no longer the boy that you w ere.'
'I know , but she is... different. There is a distance betw een us that I do not think can be bridged. I do not understand the pow ers that she w ields. She... she frightens me.'
'I w ould call any man a liar that claimed not to be afraid of such a one.'
'She said some strange things,' said Calard after a time, staring vacantly into the candle, w atching the perfect tapering flame flicker ever so slightly. He sighed and looked dow n, his thoughts confused and jumbled. 'I visited a castle today. I do not even know its name. I visited it once when I w as a very small child. I remember it faintly now. Mother was heavy w ith child, though it is only now that I realise it. That w as w hy we travelled there, I suppose, so that my mother w as close to her family and in familiar surrounds when the baby's time came. Perhaps they already knew that it w as going to be a difficult birth. I remember she travelled in a grand carriage, pulled by four w hite horses. Anara travelled in the carriage with her, and I did too for some of the w ay, w hen I was not sitting in my father's saddle, his arm around me.'
Calard gave a dry, humourless laugh. 'I think that may have been the last time my father embraced me, on that journey. I remember now , running through the castle of my mother's family, and I remember being t
errified as my mother screamed in agony.
' They are hurting her!' I cried, but Anara quietened me. ''A baby is coming out of her' , she said to me. She w as so calm, and matter-of-fact. Anara! The fey child that lived in a fantasy w orld that only she could perceive, w hom the servants were afraid of, and she w as speaking to me like an adult!' He smiled w istfully at the recollection that, until today, had been lost to him, but it faded quickly.
'I never saw my mother again. I guess the babe died in the birth. You said so yourself, although I can now remember its birth screams.' He shuddered. 'They were horrific. Anara and I w ere ushered away by servants. We left the castle the next day.
Mother w as not w ith us, and I did not know where she was. It w as only years later that I learnt she had died, in childbirth, as you had said. Today, though, Anara said some things... things I cannot explain. She said that my mother did not die in childbirth at all, but rather threw herself from a w indow, and was dashed upon the rocks below . I don't understand. I don't know what this all means.'
Looking up, his eyes haunted, he saw that Gunthar was asleep. He didn't know how much the w eapon master had heard, and he snorted without humour. Gathering his thoughts, he stood up.
'Lady, please protect him,' he w hispered, and silently left the tent.
CALARD WOKE TO the sound of tense voices. Stumbling out into the cold half-light of predaw n, he saw peasants running through the camp, their faces w orried and pale, and he could hear knights talking together in strained voices. Walking through the milling crowd standing on the edge of Adhalind's Seat, he gazed out over the surrounding fields to the east.
The day before, the forest of Chalons had been a distant shadow on the horizon. It had already broken its former borders, and extended far beyond its natural range. Its arms had spread out to the north and south like a crescent, arcing around Adhalind's Seat, where it had been at least five miles away at its closest point.
Warhammer - Knight Errant Page 20