A Darkness at Sethanon (55 page)

The Baron’s
eyes locked upon Arutha’s. “My charter is to defend this
position. I may not quit it save by leave of the King. I am charged
to hold at all costs. Now, you are not part of my command; please
leave the wall.”

Arutha remained
motionless for a moment, his face flushed. He left the wall and
hurried back to the tower. When he had rejoined those upon the tower,
he said to Jimmy, “Go saddle the horses and get all we need for
a long ride. Steal what you must from the kitchen. We may have to
make a quick exit.”

Jimmy nodded and
took Locklear by the sleeve, leading the other boy away. Arutha, Guy,
Galain, and Amos watched as the leading edge of the invading army
moved closer, coming down the canyon like a slow-moving flood.

It began as
Arutha had predicted, a wave of soldiers attacking down the narrow
draw. The fortress had been built as a staging point for the
garrison, with little thought that it would need to withstand a
massive attack from an organized army. Now just such an army advanced
upon it.

Arutha joined
his companions atop the tower, watching as Highcastle’s bowmen
began slaughtering Murmandamus’s advance elements. Then the
front ranks of the attackers opened, and goblins with heavy shields
hurried forward at a crouch, forming a shield wall. Moredhel bowmen
ran and took refuge behind them, then rose and began answering the
archers upon the wall. The first flight of arrows took a dozen of
Highcastle’s bowmen off the wall, and the attackers streamed
forward. Again and again the two sides exchanged missile fire and the
defenders stood firm. But the attackers continued to advance toward
the wall.

Step by bloody
step they came, moving past the bodies of those who had fallen. Each
wave came and fell, but moved closer to the walls than the last. An
archer would die and another would run forward to take his place.
Then, as the sun breasted the high wall of the canyon, the attackers
had halved the distance to the wall. By the time the sun had made the
narrow transit from wall to wall overhead, the distance was narrowed
to less than fifty yards. The next wave was unleashed.

Scaling ladders
were carried forward, and the defenders exacted a heavy toll on those
who carried them, but as each goblin or troll fell, another took his
place carrying the ladder. At last they rested against the wall. Pole
arms were employed to topple them, but others were put in place, and
goblins scrambled up to be greeted by steel and flame. Then the
battle of Highcastle was truly joined.

Arutha watched
as the ragged defenders held again. The final wave had breasted the
wall to the south of the barbican, but the reinforcement company had
filled the breach and driven them back. With sunset, the trumpets
sounded withdraw, and Murmandamus’s host pulled back up the
canyon.

Guy swore. “I’ve
never seen such carnage and waste in the name of duty.”

Arutha was
forced to agree. Amos said, “Bloody hell! These border lads
might be the dregs and outcasts of your armies, Arutha, but they’re
a tough and salty crew. I’ve never seen men give better account
of themselves.”

Arutha agreed.
“You don’t serve on the border for long and not get
toughened. Few big battles, but constant fighting. Still, they’re
doomed if Brian keeps this up.”

Galain said, “We
should leave before dawn if we are to get away, Arutha.”

The Prince
nodded. “I’m going to speak one last time with Brian. If
he still refuses to listen to reason, I’ll ask permission to
quit the garrison.”

“And if he
doesn’t?” asked Amos.

Arutha said,
“Jimmy’s already got us provisions and a way out. We’ll
leave on foot if we must.”

The Prince left
the tower and hurried back to where he had last seen Highcastle.
Looking about, he saw no sign of the Baron. Inquiring of a guard, he
was told, “Last I saw of the Baron was an hour ago. He might be
down in the courtyard with the dead and wounded, Highness.”

The soldier’s
words were prophetic, for Arutha found Brian, Lord Highcastle, with
the dead and wounded. The chirurgeon was kneeling over him, and when
the Prince approached, he looked up, shaking his head. “He’s
dead.”

Arutha spoke to
an officer standing by the body. “Who’s second?”

The man said,
“Walter of Gyldenholt, but I think he fell during the
overrunning of the forward position.”

“Then
who?”

“Baldwin
de la Troville and I, Highness, are both ranked behind Walter. We
arrived upon the same day, so who is senior I do not know.”

“Who are
you?”

“Anthony
du Masigny, formerly Baron of Calry, Highness.”

Arutha
recognized the man from Lyam’s coronation after hearing the
name. He had been one of Guy’s supporters. He still affected a
trim appearance, but two years on the frontier had rid him of much of
the manner of the court dandy he had displayed at Rillanon.

“If you’ve
no objections, send for de la Troville and Guy du Bas-Tyra. Have them
meet with us in the Baron’s chambers.”

“I’ve
no objections,” said du Masigny. He surveyed the carnage along
the walls and in the courtyard. “In fact I would welcome a
little sanity and order about now.”

Baldwin de la
Troville was a slender, hawkish man, in contrast to du Masigny’s
neatly trimmed, softer appearance. As soon as both officers were
present, Arutha said, “If either of you has any notion of that
nonsense about being vassals only to the King and defending this
fortress to the death, say so now.” Both exchanged glances, and
du Masigny laughed.

“Highness,
we were sent here by order of your brother for” - he cast a
glance at Guy - “certain former political indiscretions. We are
in no hurry to throw our lives away in futile gesture.”

De la Troville
said, “Highcastle was an idiot. A brave, almost heroic man, but
still an idiot.”

“You’ll
accept my orders?”

“Gladly,”
they both said.

“Then from
now forward, du Bas-Tyra is my second in command. You’ll accept
him as your superior.”

Du Masigny
grinned. “That is hardly new to either of us, Highness.”

Guy nodded and
returned the smile. “They’re good soldiers, Arutha.
They’ll do what needs to be done.”

Arutha ripped a
map off the wall and laid it upon the table. “I want half the
garrison in saddle within an hour, but all orders are to be by
whisper, no trumpets, no drums, no shouts. As soon as possible, I
want squads of a dozen men each slipped out the postern gates at
one-minute intervals. They’re to ride for Sethanon. I think
even as we speak Murmandamus is slipping his soldiers through the
rocks on either side of the pass to cut off retreat. I don’t
think we have more than a few hours, certainly not past dawn.”

Guy’s
finger touched the map. “If we send a small patrol to this
point, then this point, just for show, it would slow down any
infiltrators and cover some of the noise.”

Arutha nodded.
“De la Troville, lead that patrol, but don’t engage any
enemy forces. Run like a rabbit if needs be, and be sure to be back
by two hours before dawn. By sunrise this garrison is to be
evacuated, not a living man left behind.

“Now, the
first squads leaving will consist of six able bodies and six wounded.
Tie the wounded to their horses if you must. After today’s
slaughter, there should be enough mounts for each squad to take two
or three extra, and I want each to carry as much grain as possible.
Not all the horses will make Sethanon, but between the grain and
rotating the mounts, most should.”

“Many of
the wounded won’t survive, Highness,” said du Masigny.

“The ride
to Sethanon will be a killer, but I want everyone safely away. I
don’t care how badly hurt they are, we’re not leaving one
man behind for the butchers. Du Masigny, I want every dead soldier to
be put back on the wall, propped up in the crenels. When dawn comes,
I want Murmandamus to think he faces a full garrison.” He
turned to Guy. “That might slow him down a little. Now prepare
messages for Northwarden, telling him of what is occurring here. If
memory serves, Michael, Lord North-warden, is far brighter than the
late Baron Highcastle. Perhaps he’ll agree to send some
soldiers to harass Murmandamus’s flanks along his line of
march. I want messages to Sethanon -”

“We have
no birds for Sethanon, Highness,” said de la Troville. “We
are expecting some to be coming by caravan within the month.”
He looked embarrassed for his former commander. “An oversight.”

“How many
birds do you have left in the coops?”

“A dozen.
Three for Northwarden. Two each for Tyr-Sog and Loridl, and five for
Romney.”

Arutha said,
“Then at least we can spread the word. Tell Duke Talwyn of
Romney to send word to Lyam in Rillanon. I want the Armies of the
East to march on Sethanon. Martin will already be in the field with
Vandros’s army. As soon as he encounters the survivors from
Armengar and learns Murmandamus’s route, he’ll turn his
forces around and send the army from Yabon to Hawk’s Hollow,
where they can cut through the mountains and march this way. We’ll
send word to Tyr-Sog to get gallopers out to tell him exactly where
we are.

The garrison
from Krondor will march as soon as Gardan receives word from Martin.
He’ll pick up troops along the way at Darkmoor.” He
seemed vaguely hopeful. “We may yet survive at Sethanon.”

“Where’s
Jimmy?”

Locklear said,
“He said he had something to do and would be right back.”

Arutha looked
about. “What nonsense is he about now?” It was nearly
first light and the last detachment of soldiers was ready to ride out
of the garrison. Arutha’s party, the last fifty soldiers, and
two dozen extra horses were poised at the gate, and Jimmy was off
somewhere.

Then the boy
dashed into sight, waving for them to be off. He jumped into the
saddle, and Arutha signalled for the postern gates to be opened. They
were pushed wide and Arutha led the column out. As Jimmy overtook
him, Arutha said, “What kept you?”

“A
surprise for Murmandamus.”

“What?”

“I put a
candle on top of a small barrel of oil I found. It’s on a bunch
of straw and rags and things. Should go up in a half hour or so.
Won’t do much but make a lot of smoke, but it will burn for a
few hours.”

Amos laughed in
appreciation. “And after Armengar, they won’t be so quick
to rush toward a fire.”

Guy said,
“That’s a bright one, Arutha.”

Jimmy looked
pleased at the praise. Arutha said dryly, “Sometimes too
bright.”

Jimmy’s
expression turned dark, while Locklear grinned.

They gained a
day. From the time they left the first morning until sundown, they
saw no sign of pursuers. Arutha decided Murmandamus must have ordered
a thorough search of the empty fortress and would then have to
reorder his army for the trek across the High Wold. No, they had
stolen the march on the invaders, and they were likely to stay ahead
of all but his fastest cavalry.

They could push
the horses, rotating the remounts they led, and make between
thirty-five and forty miles a day. Some horses were sure to go lame
but with luck they would be across the vast, hilly High Wold in a
week. Once in the Dimwood, they would have to slow, but the chances
of being overtaken would also be less, for those behind would have to
be cautious of ambush from among the thick trees.

On the second
day they began passing the bodies of those wounded who could not
withstand the punishment of the hard ride. Their comrades had
followed orders and cut the dead loose from their saddles, not
wasting time to bury them, not even stripping them of weapons and
armour.

On the third day
they saw the first signs of pursuit, vague shapes on the horizon near
sundown. Arutha ordered an extra hour’s ride, and there were no
signs of those behind at dawn.

On the fourth
day they saw the first village. The soldiers riding past before them
had alerted everyone of the danger, and it was now deserted. Smoke
came from one chimney and Arutha sent a soldier to investigate. A
well-banked fire still smouldered, but no one was left. A little seed
grain was found and brought along, but all other foodstuffs were
gone. There was little to comfort the enemy, so Arutha ordered the
village left alone. Had the villagers not picked the place clean, he
would have ordered it burned. He expected Murmandamus’s
soldiers would see to that, but he still felt better for leaving the
place as he had found it.

Near the end of
the fifth day, they saw a company of riders approaching from behind,
and Arutha ordered his company to halt and make ready. The riders
came close enough to be clearly marked as a dozen moredhel scouts,
but they veered off and moved back toward their main army rather than
accept the offer to fight the larger force.

On the sixth day
they overtook a caravan, heading south, already warned of the
approaching danger by the first units of the garrison to ride past.
The caravan drivers were moving at a slow, steady pace, but it was
certain they’d be overtaken by Murmandamus’s advanced
units within another day, two at the most. Arutha rode to where the
merchant who owned the wagons sat and, riding alongside, shouted,
“Cut your horses loose and ride them. Otherwise you cannot
escape the Dark Brothers who follow!”

“But my
grain!” complained the merchant. “I’ll lose
everything!”

Arutha signalled
a halt. When the wagons were stopped, he shouted to his command.
“Each man take a sack of this merchant’s grain. We’ll
need it for the Dimwood. Burn the rest!”

The protesting
merchant ordered his bravos to defend his cargo, but the mercenaries
took a single look at the fifty soldiers from Highcastle and moved
away, allowing them to take the grain.