Part 6 (1/2)

The patrol moved steadily forward for some time until, pa.s.sing through a wooded stretch of road, they emerged to find themselves at the top of a rise which gave them a commanding view of the countryside for many miles around. Straight ahead of them, fringing the distant horizon, Hawklan could just make out the white peaks that formed the southern border of Fyorlund.

Jaldaric's face creased in distress when he too saw the mountains. So much had changed since he had been chosen to lead the Lord Dan-Tor's escort into Orthlund and thence to lands further south. Now it seemed that every step they took led them into more and more confusion and difficulty, not to say danger. The sooner he could reach Vakloss and hand this whole mess over to his superiors, the sooner he could see his father and settle back into his ordinary life.

Unnecessarily he stood up in his stirrups and peered into the distance. The road twisted and wound through fields and woods, disappearing from sight for long stretches.

'I see no sign of your patrol, Urssain,' he said.

'You will soon enough,' replied the man, certainty filling his surly reply.

Jaldaric looked at him and then frowned. 'Dismount and rest,' he said. 'We may as well take advantage of the high ground and the trees while we're here. Our Captain here seems convinced his friends will come looking for him.'

Taking their horses with them, the men dispersed skilfully into the surrounding trees and foliage so that they could both rest and watch the countryside ahead of them.

Hawklan caught Isloman's look of approval. The men were well trained, without doubt. He dismounted and Serian wandered off into the trees with Isloman's mount.

Hawklan lowered himself on to a gra.s.sy bank and stretched out luxuriously. Isloman sat down heavily beside him and drew his sword. He looked critically along its gleaming edge and fumbled in his pocket to retrieve a small slab of stone. He twisted the sword round repeatedly and, hefting the stone, offered it to the blade several times indecisively. Then he returned his sword to its scabbard and the stone to hispocket.

'Just nerves,' he said apologetically. 'There's no way a stone crusher like me can improve on an edge that Loman's made.'

Hawklan smiled then sat up suddenly and c.o.c.ked his head on one side. Abruptly, Gavor was on them.

He was jumping up and down with agitation, his eyes wild and distant, and his black spurs twitching and glinting ominously in the sunlight.

He was jabbering.

'I can't understand you, Gavor,' said Hawklan frowning. 'Speak normally.'

But Gavor continued with the noise and Hawklan shook his head despairingly. Finally the bird let out a raucous cry and flew off up into the sky where he circled, crying out strangely every few seconds.

Hawklan stood up and watched him.

'What's the matter with him?' Isloman asked.

Hawklan put his hands to his head almost desperately. 'I don't know. He's speaking a language I've never heard him use before. I can't understand it, but it sounds like something very old.'

He shouted to Jaldaric and the young man ran across to him. Hawklan took him by the arm.

'Prepare your men. Gavor's seen something that's either frightened the wits out of him, or made him angry beyond belief; I can't tell which. But something terrible is coming.'

Jaldaric signalled to his men, and such as could be seen disappeared from view. The six black-liveried men sat dolefully by the side of the road, though Urssain still affected an arrogant indifference. Nervously loosening his sword in its scabbard, Jaldaric took up a position opposite them so that he could see the road ahead and also be seen by anyone travelling along it.

Hawklan cast a glance up at Gavor who was gliding round and round in a wide circle above the scene, crying raucously. Hawklan still could not determine whether the sound was one of rage or fear, but he suspected the former as it was undeniably alarming. Shaking his head and gesturing to Isloman, the two of them faded into the undergrowth.

Then followed an eerie, silent and timeless interval in which everyone seemed to be held in reality only by Gavor's persistent cry growing fainter and fainter as he rose ever higher in a great spiral.

A m.u.f.fled whisper came out of the undergrowth, and Jaldaric screwed up his eyes to peer into the distance. A long line of men began to emerge from one of the many dips that took the road out of sight.

Jaldaric frowned.

'Your patrol's on foot?' he asked Urssain. The man did not reply.

'They're running,' whispered Isloman to Hawklan.

Hawklan nodded. Somewhere from within came the knowledge that they could run for miles and miles and still fight a battle, but who 'they' were was denied him. Again he felt a momentary detachment. A brief flash of another place and another time. Darkness and horror, a vast and malevolent roaring, and afearful unsteadiness under his feet. Then it was gone, and his gaze focused again on the approaching patrol. It was too far away to make out any detail, but it was large, and travelling quickly. Four hors.e.m.e.n were leading it.

Then it too was gone, hidden behind the green contours of the Orthlund countryside. Hawklan breathed out nervously and leaned back against a tree. The next time the patrol would appear it would be coming round the bend in the road barely a stone's throw ahead of them, and it would be on them.

'Your men will be in no state to do battle when they've climbed this far,' said Jaldaric to Urssain without looking at him.

'They outnumber you, will outrun you, and will outfight you, Jaldaric,' came the reply with a chilling certainty. 'They're used to mountains. This hill is nothing to them. If you surrender now, none of your patrol will be hurt, and you'll be taken safely back to Vakloss for trial. If you fight, you'll all die. Die without note and at little cost.' Adding, almost as if by rote, 'As will all Fyorlund's enemies.'

Jaldaric shot him an angry glance. 'If there's fighting it'll be of their starting, not mine,' he said.

Urssain shrugged.

Inexorably the sound of the patrol grew louder; the sound of running feet filling the air like sinister drumbeats underscoring Gavor's grim cries from high above.

Then it appeared. Isloman seized Hawklan's arm, but Hawklan did not respond. His face was strained as if he were trying to remember something. Silently, however, he drew his sword. There was a quality in the action that chilled Isloman more even than the grim sight now slowing to a walk behind its mounted escort.

Here was the Mathidrin's deep penetration patrol so unthinkingly launched by King Rgoric into Orthlund. Isloman was aware of gasps from the concealed High Guards as he took in the long, dog-like snouts, the evil eyes set close in fur-fringed faces, and that most distinctive and terrifying feature from the nightmares of all Fyordyn children huge curved canine teeth.

Chapter 9.

'Mandrocs!'

Several of the High Guards involuntarily whispered the word as if for rea.s.surance of the reality of what they were seeing. The word hissed and echoed around the trees.

Jaldaric, however, stood unmoving and apparently unmoved. He was young for a High Guard Captain and in his darker moments wondered if his rank were not due more to his father's affection than his own ability. He was both right and wrong. Lord Eldric was too wise in leaders.h.i.+p to subject his son to the burden of a responsibility he could not carry; and too caring of his men also. However, it was indeed his love for his son that had led Eldric to raise Jaldaric to be able to earn the rank he now held; and it was a measure of Jaldaric's worth that his outward appearance now gave no indication of the waves of doubt and fear that were surging over him as he took in the terrible sight scarring the Orthlund tranquillity.

Slowly he drew his sword and raised it in the air. 'Halt,' he shouted.

The approaching patrol stopped and one of the hors.e.m.e.n came forward. His whole posture showed themarks of fretful journeying but, even against the background of the restless Mandroc patrol, he exuded menace. Jaldaric imperceptibly tightened his grip on his sword to prevent his hand shaking.

The rider, however, ignored him and addressed the waiting Urssain.

'Captain Urssain, why do you and your men lounge in the sun when you were ordered to find the Lord Dan-Tor?'

The sound of the words gave Jaldaric the purchase he needed to still his mind. He did not wait for Urssain's reply. 'The Lord Dan-Tor has returned alone to Fyorlund,' he said. 'And your friend lounges in the sun at my suggestion. He found it preferable to lounging in an eternal darkness, which is where his conduct nearly brought him.'

The rider turned and stared at Jaldaric as if only just noticing he was there.

'The Lord Dan-Tor has left, you say?' he said.

'Yes,' Jaldaric replied.

'Alone?' The man cast a swift glance at Urssain, who nodded. A brief spasm of irritation pa.s.sed over the rider's sallow face and he lowered his head thoughtfully. Then, apparently reaching a decision, he turned again to Jaldaric.