Kings of Sorcery

by Robert Ryan

  Hruidgar looked back. It was light enough now to see the army, albeit dimly. Fear gripped him, and he kicked the mare into a gallop. A chance gaze could reveal him now.

  He sped along. The horse labored slightly under the weight of two men, but the animal was all class. In moments, it was climbing steeper ground, and soon after it had cleared the crest of the slope and entered the shelter of the oaks.

  Hruidgar drew the mare up and turned her around. From within the shadows of the trees, he looked back and observed the enemy.

  There was no sign of anyone separating from it to hunt him down. Not on horseback nor on foot. It seemed strange to him that they had no cavalry at all, but it was an advantage to Brand and he liked it. Even more did he like that the army showed no signs of agitation. It seemed that the missing sentry was either unnoticed or caused no great concern.

  The tracks of his horse were another matter. They would be visible for anyone with the skill to see. But those with the skill were probably out scouting and not nearby. At least he could hope so.

  Finally, he turned the mare around once more and nudged her forward into a walk. Now that the surge of fear had left him, he felt exhausted. He had gone a long time without sleep, and he knew he would have to rest soon. But for that, he would have to find a well-hidden place deep in the woods. There also he could hide the body of the sentry.

  He moved on, fighting sleep and trying to stay alert to the woods about him. The army was no danger anymore. Certainly, their scouts had found the edge of the woods and they would march near there and in open country. But that did not mean that scouts were not infesting this wood, ensuring no enemy lay concealed within it, nor that they would not stumble across his tracks.

  The morning passed, and the warmth of the day grew. It was cold nights and warm days this time of the year. But soon it would just be cold. These foreigners and their sandals would struggle then. But if they were here at that time, they would have beaten Brand.

  He managed to stay awake and travel until noon before weariness overtook him. But when he dismounted, deep in a stand of oaks, he hid the body in a hollow tree just as the enemy scouts had done themselves. So too he covered the opening with a large branch and hid his tracks as best he could.

  Finally, he cast himself down and slept. If there were scouts around, they could kill him for all he cared just now.

  But he slept undisturbed for several hours, and when he woke, dusk was settling over the land and he felt somewhat refreshed.

  He did not bother to eat. He mounted the mare and set off. He still had a long way to go, but the dark offered concealment now, and he was far enough from the army that enemy scouts would be few and far between.

  19. Five Tribes

  Brand had led his army onward, and others had gathered to it. Now that it was known that several Callenor lords had joined him, others who had hesitated did likewise.

  The army swelled, but his fears did not lessen. The task ahead was too much for him. He was a man, and not a god. Yet the Lady of the Land had charged him with the task, and this she would not have done if there were no hope. She had said as much herself.

  So he went on, gathering warriors, building morale and establishing a sense of unity. None of it was easy, and there was no let up at night.

  Dusk had fallen, and he had picked a place to encamp. He now had a tent, large enough to fit his entire group of commanding officers, but he did not use it. Instead, he sat outside on some logs before a blazing fire and listened to the reports of the scouts as they came in.

  And for the first time, they brought word of the enemy army.

  The third scout to bring news of it that evening sat before him now, close to the fire. Brand had given him a chunk of bread and goblet of mead as he made his report. The scouts were always grateful for that kindness. They came to him to report as soon as they entered the camp, and they did not tarry to eat or drink first.

  “How large is the army?” Brand asked.

  The scout sipped at his mead. “Seventeen thousand strong, in infantry. But there are five hundred chariots.”

  This was very close to the figures the previous two scouts had given. The numbers were a concern, but even more so the chariots. Brand had heard tales of them, but formulating an attack or defense against such a novelty was not easy.

  “These chariots,” he questioned, “how do the enemy use them?”

  “Most are drawn by a single horse, but a few by two. Behind is the chariot itself, and for this there is a driver and a warrior.”

  This also Brand had heard before. “And what weapons does the warrior have?”

  “He’s armed with a sword, but also with a short bow. Possibly they could skirmish, but I think more likely they’ll approach our lines, fire volleys of arrows and then wheel away again.”

  That too, Brand had heard before. He deemed it most likely himself, but it never paid to be sure of things that were not proven.

  “And the driver?”

  “He carries a shield, likely used to protect them both, and a sword also.”

  Brand offered the man another chunk of bread, which he took. “You’ve done well. And your tally of the enemy’s numbers matches the other scouts so far. Rest well tonight, for no doubt you’ll be needed again tomorrow.”

  The man nodded and walked off.

  “They don’t say much, those scouts,” Shorty commented from where he sat nearby.

  “No, but they never do. Scouts are quiet men, as a rule. But what he said was enough.”

  “Do the chariots trouble you?” Taingern asked.

  Brand shrugged. “All things trouble me, until they don’t. But the short bows of the charioteers won’t shoot as far as the longbows of our archers. They’ll think to swing past and soften us with volley after volley before sending in the infantry. But they’ll get better than they give.”

  “I think so too,” Shorty answered. “But they’ll be a moving target while our men will be standing still.”

  Brand knew that was true, and he did not like it. “Agreed, but even so I think we’ll at least match them. And we can hope they’ll be surprised by the power and range of our bows.”

  Attar stretched out his legs where he sat on a log. “You Duthenor think too much. When they come at us, we’ll shoot them down. It’s that simple.”

  Brand grinned. “I like things simple, and you’re probably right.” He did not add that time would tell, but despite his simplistic approach, he knew that Attar did not underestimate the enemy. He just did not believe in worrying about things he could not change.

  It was not much longer before another scout came in. Brand gave him the customary goblet of mead and a chunk of bread.

  “What news,” he asked.

  “I’ve been to the north,” the man answered. His voice was the deepest Brand had ever heard. “There’s an army there.”

  This was something new. Brand studied the man as he sipped at his mead. He was one of the few Duthenor to wear a beard, and it was thick and black.

  “How large,” Brand asked.

  “A thousand strong,” the man answered without hesitation. Brand liked that. It spoke of confidence. And certainty that he had seen what he had seen and made the correct calculations.

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t know. Callenor, I expect. But they flew no banners.”

  “Cavalry?”

  The man shook his head. “They’re all foot soldiers. And they’re close. Less than a day away.”

  It was interesting news. Brand had thought all the Callenor who were going to join them had done so already. They were nearing the end of their lands.

  The scout had little else to report, and left soon after.

  “Do you think they’re Callenor?” Brand asked Attar.

  “They’d better be. They’re on Callenor lands. But in truth, I wish I was sure. I would have thought that all the Callenor who were going to join you had done so already.”

  Brand was uneasy about the
whole situation. It was not a large enough force to threaten him, but he did not like mysteries. Not when it came to war and battle. In the game of swords, the unknown was a greater threat than blades.

  But the mystery was solved not long after. Bruidiger returned from his mission to the Norvinor tribe. He came straight to Brand, and Brand shook his hand in the warrior’s grip.

  “I bring good news,” the man said.

  Brand poured him a goblet of mead and handed it to him. “Let me guess. You’ve led a thousand men to join me?”

  “Ah, I see. Your scouts have spotted us. I’d thought to surprise you.”

  “Well, it’s still a surprise. We knew a force was out there, just not who it was. But surprise or not, it’s good news. Better than I’d hoped for, and quicker.”

  Bruidiger quaffed his mead in one go. “Things went better than I expected. Still, these are only men from the southern regions of our land. There’ll be more to join us from the north later.”

  Brand refilled the man’s goblet, and filled one for himself too.

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  Bruidiger quaffed the second goblet as fast as the first.

  “There’s something else too. With me I have a hundred men. Most are from the Waelenor tribe. But a few are from the Druimenor tribe.”

  Brand had heard the names of those tribes growing up, but he had never met anyone from them. He grinned, and quaffed his own mead.

  “That’s fitting. They may be few in number, but all five tribes will now be represented. I like it, and their swords will be welcome.”

  Brand called over a soldier then, and he sent word to the men who had made the last banner. He wanted a new one, and this time to represent the emblems of all five tribes.

  “If men will die fighting in this army, however many or however few from each tribe, they should at least fight under a banner that means something to them,” he said to Bruidiger when the soldier left on his errand.

  Bruidiger did not answer, but he looked knowingly at Brand. He was another who thought a kingdom was being forged here, but he did not seem disturbed by the notion.

  Taingern leaned forward and pointed. “Over there, Brand.”

  Brand looked. Walking toward him through the camp was Hruidgar, and he looked the weariest man Brand had ever seen.

  “That man has been through it,” Taingern said.

  Whatever it was, Brand had no idea. But he agreed. Something had happened. But underneath all the weariness of the hunter, something else showed. Determination.

  Hruidgar reached them, and once again Brand poured out some mead.

  “You look like you need it,” Brand said.

  Hruidgar took the goblet. But he merely held it in his hand and did not drink.

  “The enemy are close,” he said.

  Brand nodded grimly. “Yes, they are. But your men have already warned me of it.”

  Hruidgar seemed confused for a moment. Then he shrugged.

  “What have my men told you?”

  “Seventeen thousand in infantry,” Brand answered.

  Hruidgar considered that. “And they’re coming in from the south-west, as expected?”

  “Exactly so.”

  “Well,” Hruidgar said softly. “I haven’t been out that way. I went south instead.”

  Brand felt his stomach sink. This would not be good news.

  “I saw an encampment there of three thousand soldiers. They had no cavalry.”

  Brand did not show any surprise, though he felt it. A commander must be seen to take all news in his stride.

  “What about chariots?”

  “Chariots? No. Nothing like that. Does the other army have them?”

  “They do.”

  “Well, that’s some luck then. Nasty things according to the tales I’ve heard.”

  Brand posed his next question carefully. “You’re the first to report this second army.”

  Hruidgar dropped his head, and then for the first time sipped at his mead.

  “I thought I would be. The enemy has good scouts. I found one of my men. Dead. Dead, and hidden. That was what warned me. So I went ahead, but carefully. I had a feeling I was the only one to see the army. Or at least the only one to make it back to tell you. But I got lucky.”

  Brand knew that was an understatement. The hunter had certainly been lucky, but luck was one of those things that the harder you worked and the better your skills, the more of it came your way.

  He filled the hunter’s cup with more mead, and gave him some bread.

  “Rest, Hruidgar. You’ve earned it. But if word comes in of any other scout from the south, I’ll let you know.”

  The hunter left, and Brand’s mood soured. But such were the ups and downs of war. A little while ago he was happy that more were joining his army. Now that good news was overshadowed.

  “Your thoughts, gentlemen?” Brand asked.

  “They’ll try to flank us,” Shorty said. “When the main battle comes, they’ll drive in from the side.”

  Taingern nodded agreement. “But they’ll try to keep their presence hidden as long as possible. Even, if they can, right up until the moment of attack.”

  That was certainly true. Hruidgar had said their scouts were good, which was no easy feat in foreign terrain. These lands must be nothing like their homeland.

  But even so, surely some of Hruidgar’s men would have avoided them. The enemy had deployed not just skilled scouts, but many, many of them. And for the purpose of ensuring their flanking army was not observed. That indicated they intended to launch a surprise attack, just as Taingern thought.

  But knowing what the enemy planned was one thing. Countering it was another altogether.

  He knew what needed to be done though, even if he did not like it.

  Brand looked at the men gathered around him. He trusted them all, but who had the skills to do best what would be required?

  Only Shorty and Taingern. But which one of them, both great friends, must he send into terrible danger?

  20. There Goes a Good Man

  Brand spoke into the silence. “You know what needs to be done.”

  He did not direct the comment at anyone in particular, but both Shorty and Taingern nodded.

  “I’ll do it,” Shorty answered.

  “I’ll go,” Taingern said at the same time.

  Sighern swung his gaze from one to the other. “What needs to be done?”

  Brand turned to him. “The enemy is out there, preparing to flank and attack us when we engage their main force.”

  Sighern considered that. “So you’ll send a force to oppose them? And either Shorty or Taingern will command it?”

  “Exactly. But we’re outnumbered. So against three thousand, I can only spare one thousand. But, despite their superior numbers, this might be enough. They hope to catch us by surprise. Thanks to Hruidgar, they’ve failed in this. But they probably don’t know it. So, in our turn, we can hope to catch them by surprise. A smaller force can more easily achieve that. And we have Callenor warriors who know the country. That’s an advantage to us.”

  “But it’ll be dangerous?”

  “Extremely. If the force is observed and surprise lost, they’ll be in great jeopardy. But they won’t be able to retreat. They must engage the enemy as the enemy is ready to engage us. Or our whole army will be at risk.”

  Sighern answered quietly. “I see. I’m no great warrior, but I offer my services. I’ll go with either of them.”

  That took Brand by surprise, but he knew he should be used to it now with Sighern.

  “You’re a better warrior than you know, but I think I’ll keep you here. You’re my flag bearer, and I have plans for you.”

  He turned to his two oldest friends. “Which of you will it be?” he said simply. “I can’t choose.”

  Shorty grinned at him. “Then you go, and we’ll both stay here.” He finished this with a wink, showing he wasn’t serious.

  Taingern laughed. “I’m no
t sure that going is any riskier than staying. But I’ll flip you for it.”

  He withdrew a gold coin from his pocket, and turned it side to side. The image of Unferth was on one aspect, and two crossed swords on the other.

  “Take your pick,” Taingern said.

  “Swords,” Shorty answered.

  “Then I’m heads,” Taingern said, and he flipped the coin high with his thumb.

  Brand watched as the coin turned and tumbled through the air, reaching a high point and then falling. How it fell would determine the fate of one of his friends, but in the end all life was chance such as this.

  The coin landed with a thud. They all bent lower to look.

  The gold visage of Unferth gleamed back at them.

  “I never did like him much,” Taingern muttered. “But maybe dead, he’ll bring me more luck than he ever did alive.”

  Brand sighed. “Let’s hope so. But you make your own luck Taingern. You always have.”

  Taingern retrieved the coin. He weighed it in his hand a moment, and then handed it to Shorty. “Keep it for me until I return.”

  Shorty took it. “I’ll do that.”

  “We’d better discuss a few things,” Brand said.

  Taingern sat again. “It seems simple enough. Take a thousand men. Move swiftly, but undetected. Attack the enemy force just as they’re about to attack you, and turn their attempted surprise on its head. This will not only nullify their flanking move, but also throw out the main force from the south who’ll be relying on the chaos caused by the flanking to drive forward their own thrust.”

  Brand sat down as well. Taingern always did have a quick grasp of strategy, and he showed it here.

  “It’s the undetected part that concerns me.”

  “How so?” Taingern asked.

  “The whole plan depends on it, but it’s the hardest part to actually do.”

  “I don’t get it,” Sighern interrupted. “I’d have thought a thousand against three thousand was the hardest part?”

  Taingern answered him. “Numbers count less in battle than you might think. Morale and preparedness are worth more, any day. If I catch them by surprise, their superior numbers won’t mean much at all.”