The Haven

by Graham Diamond

  There was a rustle of whispering among the Lords but no one offered an answer.

  Elon bowed his head and sighed. “I have none, either,” he told them.

  Just then a flap of restless wings drew their attention. The Elder fixed his glare at the great gray hawk that sat perched beside the windows watching them. “What do you make of this, then?” he asked. “Come, Vandor, tell us your view.”

  The king of the hawks fluttered his wings and glided to the center of the table. His keen eyes took in all their faces with a single glance. He dipped his head to Elon and rasped, “I can only speculate, my Lord. As you know, I have little firm information.”

  “What do your spies say?” asked Assan, eager for him to make his point. The hawk gazed at the man and raised his beak. “Only what you already know, that many large Packs have been sighted moving south.

  “But do they move upon the Valley?” asked Sean.

  Vandor shrugged. “I cannot say with certainty. But whenever dogs march, it poses a threat. Yet I doubt they march here. At least they have yet to show any sign of leaving Deep-Forest.”

  “Then why even bring them up?” said Sean, growing restless. “We are not concerned with the possible dangers of dogs who are still many miles away. What we seek is an answer as to why this Pack from the west has invaded our land and suddenly withdrawn without a fight.”

  Elon gestured for the soldier to hold his thoughts for a moment. He looked long and hard at Vandor. “Do you see some connection between the two?”

  The bird nodded sagely. “I do,” he said. “I suspect they seek to join forces against us.”

  Elon eyed him suspiciously. “Can you be a little plainer?”

  “I say that this western Pack withdrew purposely. I say they attacked to test our strength and defenses. Once this was done, they left. Now they await additional warriors.”

  Nigel watched as Elon flinched. The Elder’s face grew long, his mouth curled down at the corners. “Then there is no doubt,” he said at last. “Full-scale war is about to begin.”

  There were a few gasps, a few shudders, but mostly the Lords sat impassively. Many, like Nigel, had feared as much.

  “May I speak, my Lord?”

  Elon looked up. It was Counsel Bela, his most trusted advisor, who had spoken. Long-nosed, with a small mole on his left cheek, the young son of a farmer cut a stately role as he strode forward and bowed.

  “Have your say, Counsel,” Elon told him.

  Bela turned to Vandor. “Why would these Deep-Forest dogs come to ally with closer Packs?” he asked. “Such joining of forces is rare.”

  The hawk’s eyes flashed. “Rare?” he repeated. “Why so, Counsel? It would not be the first time they have fought side by side, as you well know.”

  “Yes,” said Bela, “but in recent years the enemy has been divided; you have told us that yourself. Why would they now gather together?”

  Again there was a sudden rush of whispering. The young Counsel was right, many believed. Dogs rarely united. Elon was forced to call for order. “I fear Vandor has more in mind than the random gathering of several Packs,” he said darkly. Then he gestured for the bird to continue.

  “What you surmise is correct,” said Vandor. “What I fear is far more than alliance between a few dog warlords. It’s my guess that many, perhaps dozens of Packs, are ready to march against us.”

  Vandor paused, letting the words sink in. Nigel winced as he recalled the Doomsayer and his Prophesy.

  Assan took a long drink from his goblet and stared stony-faced at the hawk. “Are you telling us that so many of the Deep-Forest dogs are ready to align with the Packs of the West?” He drummed his fingers nervously. “They have never done so before.”

  Vandor returned the icy stare with one of his own. “If my spies bear me out, then I fear even more than that. It is almost too terrible a thought to think — that all the dogs gather in the forest and prepare to overrun the Valley.”

  “All the Packs?” questioned Sean.

  Vandor nodded. “Yes,” he said, “that’s exactly what I mean — all the Packs of all the forests —”

  Lord Saul pounded his fist on the table. The goblets shook. Face white, he glared at the bird. “Impossible! I cannot accept such a theory! What you say can never happen. You speak of the Prophesy!”

  The hawk shook his head. Beady eyes searched the Lord’s face. “I’m not saying that, at least not yet. But something is going on in the forests, something that has never happened before.”

  “You make it sound sinister,” said Elon.

  Vandor shot his old friend an angry glance. “It is sinister! And it frightens me. Always the dogs have feuded among themselves, each warlord jealous of his neighbor, of the next fief. But now they are leaving their lairs and trekking south, to the Southern Forest. Reports say they come from the Marshlands, from the Eastern Wood, from the Western Mountains, even from the Swamps. All this my birds have seen. And mark my words, these are sharp-eyed birds, birds of prey. I do not think they can be misled.

  “The enemy feuding has always been to our advantage, has kept the various Packs and tribes divided. Now, all at once, as if of a single mind, they leave their homes and march to the south. I ask myself why, why do they do this thing?” The hawk glowered at the men. “I find but a single explanation: they have found one to lead them. They have at last found a king.”

  Assan’s eyes grew large, his eyebrows slanted down. “But the Prophesy is a fairy tale,” he insisted. “It has no merit, no basis in reality.”

  Vandor glanced sideways at Assan. “That is true,” he said, “but nevertheless, it can still have devastating repercussions.”

  “How?” Nigel blurted, without meaning to speak.

  “It’s not hard to understand,” answered the hawk, “if you give it thought. Look at it this way. Somewhere, deep in the Southern Forest, a tribal warlord comes along — one with skill in combat and cunning in his ambition. He shrewdly proclaims himself Lord of the Fief, and with his followers murders and humbles all rivals. Other warlords are forced to take note. ‘This is a mighty warrior,’ they say. ‘One who commands respect.’ And the word spreads — a great leader has arisen in the wood.

  “His next move becomes the subjugation of other regional lords. He takes their lands, brings their warriors into his fold. And before much time has passed, more distant Packs are hearing of his deeds. They pay him homage, revere his name, knowing that someday his agents may plot against them. And soon the whole Southern Forest begins to believe. They proclaim his strength, his might. ‘A King has arisen!’ they shout.

  “Then this word is carried far and wide; soon distant warlords gather to his side, seeking patronage. With time, the other forests also hear tales of this ‘king.’ And they wonder if it can be so. And all the time his followers become larger in number, more powerful. They call for all dogs to acknowledge him as Master. Those who scoff are slain or banished; those who obey receive his protection. And all other lords are forced to accept; the King has arisen, the Master is come. And the Prophesy feeds upon itself. By virtue of his cunning, he has fulfilled it! He is King, he is the Master!”

  The Lords sat speechless. They looked at each other incredulously, not wanting to believe, yet afraid not to. Nigel put his head in his hands; he shook his head slowly. His nightmare was becoming real.

  At last Elon stood and broke the silence. “If what you tell us turns out to be true,” he said grimly, “what would be the consequences to the Valley?”

  Vandor rolled his eyes and thought deeply. “We would face such an army as has never been seen,” he said at last.

  Nigel lifted his head and gazed at the hawk. “Antonius has put their strength at two thousand,” he said. “Would you agree with that?”

  Sean let his mouth gape. “Two thousand!” he muttered in disbelief.

  Vandor let the shock take hold; then he spoke. “I respect Antonius,” he said, “and have high regard for his wisdom. But I fear his estimate
s are far from accurate —”

  Elon wet his mouth with his tongue. He stared blankly at the bird. “You mean there could be more?”

  “Indeed, yes!” said Vandor. “In the Southern Forest alone there are at least that many warriors. If I am right, we could face, oh, seven, eight, even nine thousand —”

  Sean felt his knees shake and his mouth become dry. Images of such a horde let loose upon the Valley made him quiver.

  “And there could even be more,” Vandor added, “if the dogs find new allies —”

  “Allies?” gasped Elon. “Who would align with dogs? They are feared and hated by all Dwellers!”

  Vandor fixed his gaze at his old friend. “Do you forget the wolves?” Elon slumped in his chair, bowed his head, and sighed.

  “The wolves could send a thousand Hunters into combat against us, if they wanted,” Vandor told him, “and you all know of Hunters.”

  Elon folded his arms and exhaled slowly. Hunters were among the fiercest fighters in the wood. If they did align with the dogs, the Haven might find itself hard pressed to protect even the Plain, let alone the entire Valley.

  Nigel fidgeted, then cleared his throat. “It’s my understanding,” he said, “that wolf and dog hate each other. That if it weren’t for some ancient treaty between them they would be at each other’s throats.”

  Vandor opened his beak as though in a smile. This impetuous young noble spoke as if he were a Forest-Dweller himself. “That is so,” replied the hawk, “but remember — they are still cousins. The same blood flows through their veins. If the wolves are swayed by the Master they will flock to his banner and fight against us.”

  “Even though they never did before?” asked Assan.

  Vandor nodded. “Even though they never did before.” The bird stepped forward two paces, searching the faces of the tense Lords. “And what of your own hunting hounds?” he squawked. “How long do you think they will remain loyal? The Master’s pull will be powerful.”

  Now the Council really became upset. Not only might they have to face dogs and wolves, but their own hounds could not even be trusted.

  “And it might not end there,” rasped Vandor. “Who knows which other Dwellers the Master will seek to join with him?”

  “And man and bird must stand alone,” mumbled Elon. He leaned heavily on the table and looked sideways at Sean. “Tell me,” he said, “if all this came to pass could we possibly hope to defeat such an army?”

  The soldier pounded his fist and scowled. “We’ll muster every man, every youth, every bird!” he boomed. “And we’ll face them on the battlefield as before. They will find the Haven prepared, I assure you of that!”

  Elon sighed and leaned back. His general spoke bravely but skirted the question.

  “It will be hard on us,” admitted Assan. “They could attack from many directions at the same time. We could find ourselves outflanked from every side.”

  Elon massaged his temples with his fingers. They would be trapped, he knew, forced behind the walls of the Haven while the dogs ran rampant.

  Nigel gazed pleadingly at the Elder. “Let me lead an expedition into the forest,” he said. “Finding new lands could be a chance of escape for us.”

  “Are you mad?” snorted Assan. “We face the most fearsome army the world has ever known. And you talk of exploring the wood!”

  Nigel sat back angrily. The Empire was on the brink of collapse, and still they denied him the only chance for survival.

  “Assan is right,” Elon said softly. “This is no time to debate. An expedition now could never succeed.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong!” flared Nigel. “It’s now that we need to find a way out, if only to have somewhere to flee should the Valley be overrun.”

  “We are not overrun yet,” snarled Sean. “The battle hasn’t even begun. You speak as though we’re already defeated.”

  Elon gestured for tempers to be calmed. Eyes downcast, he said: “Lord Nigel has a point. He has brought our weakness into the open. Should we have to relinquish this land, where could men go? Surely the dogs will butcher us if we stand firm.”

  “Would you have us run through the woods like cowards?” grated Sean. “I would rather die here, fighting for the Empire!”

  Many Lords nodded in agreement. Running away was no answer.

  Counsel Bela paced before them. “We should not be hasty,” he cautioned.

  “Consider: if Nigel were allowed to go, and did prove successful, then the Empire would never again be dependent on the Valley alone for safety. A new land would provide us with a direct route from which to strike at the enemy deep within their own territory. They would think twice about attacking the Valley if our forces were poised to strike at them from another land. Then it would be they who were outflanked. I believe that Nigel should be allowed to go.”

  “Bela’s right!” someone called.

  “There is nothing to lose,” said the Counsel, “but much to gain. While we prepare for this war, allow Nigel to seek this path through the wood.”

  Sean shook his head in disbelief. “Has our Counsel lost his senses also?” he said. ‘The dogs will catch him and flay the skin from his bones as soon as he steps foot into the forest!”

  “Perhaps not,” said Vandor, deep in thought. “The dogs are busy with their march to the south. With care a man could bypass their Scouts.”

  “Bah,” muttered Assan. “This discussion is futile. “Even if he escapes the watchful eye of the dogs, there are other dangers to contend with, other enemies.”

  “Why talk?” said Sean. “There is no chance of succeeding. The forests are endless! There is no way out.”

  Nigel’s eyes flashed angrily; veins popped from his throat. “How can you be sure?” he shouted. “How can any man be sure?”

  “Ciru proved it for us,” Sean grumbled.

  “Ciru became lost!” Nigel shot back.

  Elon gestured for them to hold their thoughts. He glanced at Vandor. “What say you?” he asked.

  The hawk blinked his eyes. “Among birds there are many legends of lands beyond Deep-Forest. Lands that wait to be found. But the way is dangerous, not known, even to us. Yet, it is possible.”

  Assan threw his hand up in exasperation; he glared at Nigel. “What makes you think you can succeed where better men have failed?”

  Nigel fumed, his face grew red, but he controlled his rising voice. “I have studied everything written about the forest,” he said. “I am as prepared as any man.”

  “And you’ll wind up like all the others,” said Sean, “lost and doomed.”

  Elon scratched at his chin, then put his hands in his lap. His eyes were sad as he said: “Perhaps if others will be willing to go with you, I would allow it. But to send you out alone? No, I cannot do it.”

  Nigel leaned over and rested his hands on the table. “I won’t be alone,” he said. “I have a volunteer.”

  Assan smiled crookedly. “Who is it that’s as eager as you to throw away his life?”

  Nigel beamed. “A soldier,” he said. “Commander Lawrence of the Royal Guard.”

  Sean’s jaw dropped; he stared dumbstruck at Nigel. “Commander Lawrence has actually agreed to go with you?”

  Nigel smiled a smile of satisfaction. “He requested it.”

  Sean turned sideways, confronting the Elder. “By what right has Nigel dared to solicit my men?” he barked.

  “I did not solicit him!” shot back Nigel, aware of the old mistrusts between soldiers and scholars. “I told you — Lawrence requested to go.”

  Assan sighed and interrupted. “Even if this were so,” he said, “we cannot spare a man like Lawrence. He is too valuable. We’ll have need of his skills against the enemy.”

  Elon bent over and whispered to Sean. The soldier shook his head violently. Assan cupped his hand around his mouth and joined the conversation. Time and time again Nigel heard Sean vehemently say ‘no.’ But the Elder pressed him to exasperation. Sean’s face was glu
m, Assan’s white. He was winning the argument, he knew. The scales were tipping in his favor.

  At length Elon stood and turned to Vandor. “Would a fighting bird escort them into the forest?”

  The hawks nodded. “We would be honored to have one of our own take part in such an adventure,” he replied.

  Elon clasped his hands behind his back. “Then perhaps I have gone mad, too,” he said, “but I think Counsel Bela was right. The finding of new lands could insure us against further attacks, although it may be too late to help us in this battle.” Elon pushed his chair back and paced the floor for a few moments. It was clear that this decision was one of the hardest he had ever made. “The risks must be taken,” he said at last. “We can no longer close our eyes to it. Even if we do manage to hold off the enemy this time, the next time will not be as easy. The finding of a path through the wood could be our last chance.”

  Nigel’s heart leaped into his throat.

  The Elder looked at him sternly, then turned to the others. “But we still can’t allow Nigel and Lawrence to face these dangers alone,” he said. “They’ll need at least a small party to accompany them.” He glanced up at Bela. “Whom would you recommend?”

  The Counsel rubbed at his nose and thought for a moment. “It will have to be soldiers,” he said, “men who can fight. And they must be led by a man who has faced the dogs, someone who understands their tactics. I think the best man would be Desmond.”

  Des froze; his eyes grew wide. He faced the Elder. “You can’t do this!” he stammered. “My place is here, to help in the coming fight. Lawrence is a good man. Let him lead.”

  “We count too heavily on Desmond,” said Sean, speaking as if Des weren’t there. “He’s one of our best captains. We can’t spare him at such a time.”

  “But that’s why it must be Desmond,” protested Bela. “His knowledge of the enemy will give Nigel at least a fighting chance. If we send someone with less experience he’ll have a much harder time of it.”

  Elon spoke. “Only the best must go,” he said darkly, “as much as they may be needed here. Desmond is the right man; his judgment is beyond question.”