Bazil Broketail (39 page)

Nobody came back with only a fifth of their command intact. It was very bad for morale. The future looked grim.

Of course there was one aspect of the situation that he wanted to consider, but he had to force himself not to look that way, not to consider how she rode her horse or anything else about her.

Lagdalen—it amazed him how swiftly his interest in her had grown. Every time he glimpsed her now, he felt the tension begin within him. Her beauty, her grace, they riveted him every time.

He had never felt this way about a girl before. Oh, there’d been girls, plenty of them, since he was fourteen at least, but never one that had struck him like this.

And to cap it off, the object of his love was the assistant to a Great Witch involved in a mad quest into enemy territory. In addition to which, he himself was on the same quest and he was many miles from the end of the journey, in pursuit of an overwhelming enemy force, and he had a lot more important things to think about than the swaying walk of a girl! Except that it was damnably hard not to slip up in this resolve every time Lagdalen’s form came into view, riding ahead of him on a brown mare beside the lady. Every movement, every curve in that young body made his heart yearn. He had to make himself turn away and stare at the horizon above the waving grass.

A flicker of yellow announced another bird. A small thrush with a brown spotted front. It fluttered up to rest on Lessis’s wrist a moment and then sped away.

A few moments later another bird flew in. A bluebird with a stiff little crest. It fluttered its wings as it rested on her wrist for a moment, and then it too flew away.

It was too uncanny to watch, but already he half accepted it. After all there’d been that owl—who could forget that? His eyes glazed over. All this witchcraft, it was beyond him, it had no place in military thinking. He turned his thoughts elsewhere.

But within moments he was thinking of Lagdalen again. What were his chances with the girl? He tried to think rationally, to work it through point by point.

If he survived, which he realized was a big if considering how things had been going on this mission, then there might come a time when they would be together privately and he could ask her if she looked upon him with favor. He thought she did; she’d looked at him several times in a way that made him think she had to be interested in him.

Perhaps when they returned to Dalhousie, they could walk out together along the river promenade where courting couples went.

But then a critical voice took over in his mind. Who was he deceiving but himself? He was not high born. She was.

True, his grandfather was a famous general, but his father had retired from the military and was a grain merchant in the Blue Hills. His mother came from an old family with ties to the Cunfshon Isles, but compared to the Tarcho they were merely peasantry. No, he was a commoner and she was nobility, and for that reason alone his love was doomed.

Of course, he told himself, the girl was not very representative of the high born, from his own experience of them at least. Why would she have become assistant to Lady Lessis if she was like the rest of her social class? Why forsake a life of comfort and city excitements for hard duty on the Gan?

And so the thought gnawed at him; perhaps she was not destined to be the bride of some rich man, perhaps she was unusual enough to consider Hollein Kesepton, soon to be an ex-captain of the legion, if they didn’t hang him.

The thought that she might, that she was a rebel seeking to escape from the society she’d been born into, gave him a shred of hope, and with hope he was tormented.

To evade the torment he deliberately set himself to make plans for the event that he was discharged at the end of this mission.

Among his other options was that of taking some frontier land and beginning a farm. With a couple of mules and the right tools, he could clear the forest and plant his crops and grow prosperous in time.

And with Lagdalen he would have a family and they would grow up as sturdy young frontiers folk. With Lagdalen. He rubbed his eyes for relief. By the goddess, this was a hell of a time to fall in love!

He tried to clear his thoughts again. Ahead lay the Oon, a tricky crossing with the river rising to its spring peak. On the far side the land rose abruptly to the further stretches of the Gan. There were cliffs and only occasional breaks in them. These breaks in the cliff wall matched the only pair of fords within two hundred miles. Other fords existed but only to stretches of the far bank where the cliffs stretched unbroken.

Lessis had informed him that she knew of a way up the cliffs. And once they were across Lessis intended to set another ambush. Only this time their prey would be an entire tribe of nomads! Kesepton’s imagination failed at that point. How were twenty-five men and a handful of dragons going to upset hundreds of nomad warriors?

The lady swore she had a plan. Hollein just hoped it had not been hatched by the birds.

Finally a pair of horsemen appeared ahead and ended this gloomy reverie. The men rode down the slope towards them, through a meadow sprinkled with spring flowers. Soon Kesepton could see that it was Lieutenant Weald and Trooper Jorse, who had been out on forward reconnaissance. They reined in beside him.

Lessis had halted ahead, tactfully out of earshot.

“The way’s clear to the river, sir,” said Weald. “No tracks of anything other than some antelope.”

“The far side of the river’s lined with cliffs, about sixty feet high I’d say. We couldn’t see any way up them.”

“Good,” said Kesepton. “We go on. Estimated distance to the water?”

“About three miles, sir. Once you’re over this next rise the ground slopes all the way down to the river. Then there’s the cliffs.”

Kesepton shrugged. “Don’t worry, Weald. I expect the birds have told the lady a way to get up those cliffs.”

“The birds have, sir?” Weald was looking at him strangely.

“You’ve seen them scouting ahead for us. I mean, what else are they doing?”

“Well, I don’t know, sir.” Weald’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I expect we’re all in a trance, maybe we’re seeing things that aren’t there.”

Kesepton nodded. “Well, maybe you’re right, Lieutenant, but until we find out for sure we’ll carry on. Right?”

“Right, sir.”

“Trooper Jorse, tell Subadar Yortch I’d like another two-man patrol out front, right away.”

Jorse grinned quite insolently. “Sir, if the birds are helping us surely we can forget about running patrols of our own?”

Kesepton was in no mood to be amused.

“When I want your advice, Trooper, I’ll ask for it. Until then, keep it to yourself. Now get along and pass on my message to the subadar.”

Jorse nudged his horse and they moved away; Kesepton kept his eyes on Weald.

“You don’t trust the birds, sir?” Weald said softly.

“Damn right I don’t, Weald. Now tell me about the water—how deep and how swift is it?”

When they reached the top of the rise and finally had the river in view ahead they halted to allow the dragons to catch up. From Weald’s account Kesepton knew they’d need the dragons to help them get across.

The water was running waist deep in places, and it was cold and moving very fast. It wouldn’t sweep away dragons though, and they could keep the rest from slipping downstream.

The dragons caught up and sat down, demanding a short rest. Kesepton was uneasy, thinking they might need every second.

Then a small hawk began circling above their heads, and after a couple of turns it swooped down and settled on Lessis’s wrist. After a minute or so there it lifted again and flapped away, building altitude as it went.

Lessis rode back to Kesepton. “Good news, Captain. Our enemy is moving slowly, encumbered by the baggage train of an entire tribe of nomads. We have time to cross and take up positions above the ford the enemy will use.”

Kesepton raised his eyes to the hawk, now just a dot in the sky.

“If you say so, lady,” he said softly.

Had the bird delivered his death warrant?

To the dragons, crossing the river came as a welcome relief after the long march. The chill water was wonderful to overheated reptile bodies. They made a great show of splashing out to the deep water and forming a chain to prevent the men and horses from being taken downstream in the swift current.

In the meantime a line was taken across by Marco Veli, who was the best swimmer among them. With the aid of the line and the dragons in the deep places, all twenty-five men and the fifty-odd horses were got across quickly and efficiently.

In the end the dragons were quite reluctant to leave the bracing stream and come onshore again, but were persuaded with offers of cold noodles and plenty of akh.

Everyone ate while Lessis and Lagdalen scouted the cliffs for the secret trail. They found it in less than half an hour, set in a cut-back on the cliff face that hid it from view. It was just a narrow gulley, but there were convenient rocks, like crudely cut steps every few feet that made it quite navigable for man, horse and dragon. For the dragons it was still an ordeal however, since the gulley was only just wide enough for them to squeeze through, particularly Chektor. Perhaps it was fortunate that Vander had been sent south to the Argo with his leg wound since the big brass hide would have been a very tight fit indeed.

Finally they were all up on top of the cliffs with the river behind them. Far away in the east could be seen the snowcaps on Mts. Ulmo and Snowgirt.

When they looked in the other direction they could see the White Bone Mountains, a line of serried white peaks running parallel to the river’s course and ending in the north in a single massive mountain, broken into five distinct peaks.

“The Shtag,” said Liepol Duxe to Kesepton. “Tummuz Orgmeen is just the other side.”

“I know, Sergeant.”

Duxe gave him that searching look again. Ever since they’d set out across the Gan, Duxe had been withdrawn, as if waiting for some blow to fall.

“Sir?” Duxe began.

“Yes, Duxe.”

“I, um, I…” Duxe swallowed.

“Come on man, spit it out.” Hollein had never seen Liepol Duxe so hesitant.

“I just hope we’re not going to end up there.”

“Where, Sergeant?”

Duxe waved to the Shtag, the “Fist” Mountains that ringed the dread city of the Doom.

Kesepton glanced that way and shrugged.

“Unless we do our part in this everything will be ruled from there, or so the lady tells me.”

Duxe was giving him that look again. “You’ve spoken to the witch then, sir?”

“Yes, Sergeant, of course.”

Duxe struggled with himself briefly but said no more.

“Carry on, Sergeant,” said Kesepton, spurring his own horse forward.

By the time the sun began to set behind the White Bones they were several miles upstream and in sight of Lessis’s destination, a wide canyon where a small river joined the Oon just above a much-used ford across the great river. Several side canyons opened into the main canyon, all had steep sidewalls and bottoms filled with boulders.

Lessis sat her horse and viewed the scene with considerable relief. There was no sign of the Baguti. The birds had been very reliable guides. The nomads were traveling slowly as their herds fed on the new grasses of spring.

For the first time in days Lessis felt her spirits rise a little. This had become a harrowing mission. She felt her prestige, even her position at the imperial court, was hanging in the balance here.

This damnable magician had given her the slip all over the Argonath. First at Marneri, then for months at Kadein, and then in Pennar and Bea and Talion, again and again she’d missed him and his prize, the princess. In Talion she’d come close, and would have had him but for treachery in the Talion Temple.

Once again she’d recovered by riding for five days and nights to reach the Upper Argo in time to find Captain Kesepton and his small force and whisk it north to Tunina.

At Ossur Galan she’d been completely outwitted and almost destroyed. A galling defeat from which she could take nothing but blame.

Still she could not give up. The princess was too valuable to the enemy. Without her Marneri would weaken dramatically at a time when both Kadein and Talion were also ruled by weak men, ineffective leaders who tolerated corruption and a considerable amount of trafficking with the enemy. Such a course would bring disaster upon the entire enterprise of the Argonath.

But now her hopes were renewed. After his victory at Ossur Galan surely Thrembode would have dropped his guard somewhat. He must know that her force was small to begin with and quite disabled by that fight. He would also know that the elves would not leave the shelter of their trees. So realistically what could he fear from her now? He had three hundred Baguti horse archers around him on their native territory.

And so she would make one more try for him. Her means were slender, but armed with the powder from the Thingweight’s siphon she had an opportunity to yet recover from the abyss. The Baguti would arrive here sometime late on the morrow. They would find no tracks, no sign of her waiting ambush.

She sighed. It was the best she could do, considering. She just had to pray that it would be enough this time. Failure was unthinkable.

Captain Kesepton came riding up to meet with her while his men fell out and rested. The sun was gone from view but in the twilight the canyon could still be seen clearly. The captain had a wary look. She’d captured him along with the others with her little speech, but she knew that he was made of sterner stuff than most, and besides must be wondering if his infatuation with young Lagdalen was the result of some witch’s work.

It was not; Lessis had felt no need to secure his loyalty with such deviousness. Indeed since the desire on his part was matched by that of the girl, Lessis faced the unwelcome possibility of having to find another young assistant all too soon. Still, the captain harbored his suspicions—it would be inhuman not to.

She pointed to the second of the small side canyons on the south side of the main canyon wall. Its entrance was particularly narrow while the side walls were very steep.