Firehand

by Andre Norton

  the part of the concealed fighters, but wariness was by then part of the

  Sapphireholders. They would not voluntarily do anything that might

  betray them.

  The familiar battle tension surged and ebbed and surged again along

  Murdock's nerves, but despite that and with all his intense concentration

  on the Condor Hall riders, his heart leaped up within his breast. The sight

  of so many slender deer moving together, unbound, with all the grace and

  glory of their kind was enough to stir the blood of any man.

  The Condor Hall riders kept their charges traveling at a good pace, and

  they were not long in advancing up the valley.

  Every partisan seemed to freeze in his saddle, watching, ever watching.

  There would be no horn signal this time, nothing that might give a

  moment's additional warning to those below.

  When the lead riders reached the point the war captain had fixed in his

  orders, they would move.

  Soon. Very soon.

  Murdock's fingers touched Lady's neck. She leaped forward, effortlessly

  lengthening into her flawless gallop.

  His command moved with him. A double column of riders flowed down

  into the valley from the slopes on either side. They did not engage their

  enemies at once but rather continued their wild race until their target was

  completely encircled. Only when this was accomplished did they close with

  the invaders.

  Now the reason for the dual column became evident. The inner line

  alone sought contact with the Condor Hall warriors. The others

  maintained their position, ready to hold the deer should they begin to run.

  It was a tense enough job and an important one. If those animals

  succeeded in breaking free to scatter in the valley and the hills nearby,

  most of them would be lost to the partisans and their allies, or else all

  thought of taking the convoy would have to be abandoned. The task of

  collecting them again would require too much time.

  They were not called upon to act. The loose springdeer were frightened,

  but they were fairly tightly massed, and the uneven action of the fighting

  pressed them, first in one place, then another, keeping them milling and

  uncertain of course rather than encouraging a stampede in any one

  direction.

  The battle itself was extraordinarily short lived, scarcely longer than the

  attackers' charge. The invaders were at too great a disadvantage to

  maintain their opposition for long. Their surprise had been complete, and

  the number of warriors so suddenly come against them considerably

  exceeded their own.

  Above all, they had little desire to continue this fight. They were angry

  with Zanthor I Yoroc for his use of them. Even had their officers not

  informed them in high dudgeon that they were riding as lures to draw and

  keep Sapphirehold attention away from the wagon convoy, they were not

  stupid men and would have soon come to realize that fact themselves. The

  studied carelessness that had marked their conduct during the whole of

  this mission would have declared it quite clearly enough. Mercenaries like

  themselves rather than the men of Condor Hall had borne the brunt of the

  war after its opening blows had been struck. Their own unit, though not

  long come to it, had already given good service, and they resented being

  cast away in this manner, delivered up, as it were, to their enemies'

  swords.

  So be it, then. They had been all but given into this trap, and they were

  not inclined to make a useless sacrifice of their lives now, not when it was

  so well known that the Confederates did not treat their prisoners as did

  the Ton who had hired them. They cast down their arms and sued for

  peace.

  The Sapphirehold leaders examined the captured herd critically.

  "He's been buying deer," Eveleen remarked, "and has been going far

  afield for them. A full quarter of these were never bred in this region."

  "They come from the forests far to the northeast on the Mainland,"

  Allran informed her. "We often see them at the fairs when we bring our

  excess stock over for sale."

  She studied the strange steeds. They were large and heavy of body with

  proportionally big heads. "Are they wardeer at all?" she wondered aloud.

  "They're not quite the size of drays, but I can't imagine riding such

  clumsy-looking creatures."

  "They are far from clumsy, Lieutenant, and yes, they do battle service,

  although I grant that they lack the speed and agility we require in our

  mounts."

  "I don't think I'd find it very comfortable sitting one of them for any

  length of time," she observed. "What kind of people use them?"

  He smiled, trying to imagine her diminutive form astride one of the big

  deer. "The foresters who normally ride them are huge men, very tall and

  mightily muscled. The biggest in our company would scarcely be of

  middling size among them. They want substantial mounts under them.

  Speed is not really possible in their endless treelands, and so they value it

  little, whereas they do want strength and the ability to work their small

  fields and bear heavy burdens long distances. Theirs is not deer country,

  and they did not enjoy the luxury of having even two breeds near to hand,

  so they concentrated on developing this one to serve both their saddle and

  dray needs."

  "What'll we do with them?"

  "They look like good animals whether they suit our purposes or not,"

  Ross interjected. "Gurnion should find their strength very helpful,

  particularly for servicing his foremost lines where they might occasionally

  be pressed into actual battle duty as well."

  "What about the rest?" the archeologist asked him.

  "We'll keep no more than a third of them, fewer unless the quality's

  exceptionally high. The winter could be a bad one. No use in risking

  putting strain on our feed stores by bringing in too much new stock at this

  point."

  "Ton I Carlroc will profit well by our day's work in that event."

  Murdock seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment. He recalled

  himself quickly and smiled. "Not Gurnion. Let all but the foreign animals

  be delivered to the mercenary camp. Give greetings to Commandant A

  Murdoc and say that these captures come to him with Firehand's

  compliments."

  He laughed softly, guessing their thoughts. "It's a bit of bravado,

  maybe, but I want to establish Sapphirehold's place beside the

  Confederate domains in A Murdoc's regard. We might otherwise suffer

  when the time comes to divide the spoil that'll result from this war."

  "He would cheat us…" Allran began in anger.

  "Hardly. Officers with a reputation for doing that don't get many new

  commissions, but neither do mercenaries lightly surrender hard-won

  gains to those not fully earning them. That's why the Commandant must

  be made to understand completely our heavy and long role in all this."

  No one questioned that Jeran A Murdoc had the power to disrupt the

  distribution process if he chose to do so. A column such as he led would

  not have hired itself without the promise of a strong spoil share as well as

  the gold i
t contracted to receive.

  The weapons expert shook her head. "I think Sapphirehold will be as

  fortunate to have Firehand on its side in those councils as it now is to have

  you managing its battles," she said in admiration.

  "If our employers lose, we lose, Lieutenant," he replied, somewhat

  embarrassed.

  Allran gave him a strange, sharp look. "Right now, any dividing of spoil

  seems very far away."

  "With a lot of hard fighting ahead before we get there," Ross agreed.

  He straightened. "Mount up. There's a convoy lonely for our attention.

  Let's not disappoint it any longer."

  14

  SOON, THE CAPTURED springdeer and the carefully interrogated

  prisoners were ready to depart.

  The main body of the partisans waited until they had passed out of

  sight before moving themselves. Murdock tried never to permit any

  prisoner, no matter how seemingly secure, to observe anything that might

  give a clue as to his intentions or probable direction of travel.

  He scowled now as Eveleen swung into her saddle and brought his doe

  close to her so that they might ride together. "Why are you using Comet

  instead of Spark?" he demanded bluntly; he had noted her choice of

  mount at the outset of their mission, but there had been no appropriate

  opportunity to challenge her then, and he had forgotten the matter until

  now.

  The woman bridled under his tone but controlled her response.

  "Because Spark picked up a stone on the last raid. It bruised his hoof."

  "Sorry, Eveleen," Ross apologized after a moment. "I should know

  better than to question your judgment, and the choosing of his steed is

  each warrior's business."

  "Don't worry about it," she replied, "but I am curious about your dislike

  of Comet. He's a fine animal."

  "I know, but he's no match for Spark." He glanced at the way before

  them. "We depend so heavily on our deer. I don't like the thought of your

  coming into possible danger through some imperfection…"

  He shrugged. "As you say, Comet's as sound as any of the other

  springdeer we have."

  Little was said during the next several hours. The raiders were tired.

  They had ridden far and had fought one battle already this day, and they

  knew another faced them at their new destination, or faced them if their

  leader had read his enemies rightly and had plotted and timed their

  movements accurately.

  The change in the nature of the land announcing that they at last were

  nearing the proposed attack site came rather suddenly. The hills became

  higher and steeper, rougher and more difficult to negotiate. First brush

  and then stands of trees dotted the slopes. These increased in density and

  frequency until they formed a full, thick cover over all the land.

  The convoy had been sighted in a long rift bisecting the range and

  tracing its full length as if Life's Queen had drawn a mighty knife along its

  backbone before the stone had frozen into its present solid form.

  Ross had reasoned that this would remain the invaders' route. It was

  direct, and they would be able to travel it without having to contend with

  any excessively rough places. Besides, once upon it, he did not see how the

  party could quit it. The deermen could readily have scaled the slopes

  bordering the natural path to go their own way, but the clumsy,

  presumably well-laden wagons were another matter. They were fairly

  bound to keep to the rift after they had started upon it.

  True, it was conducive to ambush, but the same could be said of every

  part of the Sapphirehold lowlands, and they would be counting on secrecy

  to shield them, that and the size of their party. They would not disqualify

  the rift for security's sake.

  The Time Agent was not very pleased with that road himself and was

  even less pleased once he reached it and had to come to a decision as to

  their course of action. It was too narrow and the surrounding terrain too

  rough to permit the ambush he had hoped to set, one allowing a quick

  sweep by his entire force, striking every part of the long line

  simultaneously and breaking it swiftly. There was no stretch along the

  whole course of the great fissure sufficiently free of almost perpendicular

  cliffs and deep drops to permit such an attack. He would have to modify

  his tactics and hope no heavy price would be exacted for that compromise.

  Murdock chose what he believed would prove to be the best place

  possible to meet the convoy, and settled down to wait. His force was nearly

  a third greater than his intended victims'. Even if he failed to take all the

  deermen and, therefore, could not chance delaying to bring the supplies

  away with him, he could be fairly certain of at least stopping the wagons

  long enough to fire them, provided they came this way at all.

  His order of battle was simple enough. Allran's division waited at the

  far side of a sharp, cliff-walled bend. When the first part of the Condor

  Hall column reached him, he was to leap out on it. Ross's unit would be

  waiting, well concealed, farther back along the trail. When the sounds of

  the charge reached them, they would strike at the rear or at whatever

  portion of it was before them should the train be uncommonly extended,

  trapping the bulk of it between them. The remaining partisans, those

  under Eveleen Riordan, had been divided, part going to the front, part to

  the rear positions. They were to act as flying squads, giving aid to the

  other officers as needed and trying to prevent riders from the convoy's

  center from either breaking and fleeing or from racing to the aid of their

  embattled comrades.

  Ross sighed. It was as good a plan as conditions and his own ingenuity

  permitted him to devise. If fortune were with them, total victory should be

  theirs. If not, the battle could be a costly one.

  His expression hardened.

  It might never come to battle if their enemies went by some other road.

  They had been waiting here three hours now, better than that, a good

  two hours longer than he had anticipated. There should not be such

  variation from his calculations. The herd might have shown this

  fluctuation, but not wagons. They were capable of only so much speed

  either in spurts or during sustained effort, and he was too well practiced

  in considering both factors to err very greatly now.

  The undisturbed ground testified that they had not already passed, but

  perhaps they had chosen another path after all.

  Perhaps one of them had merely broken down. Disabled vehicles could

  not be left behind here, for those coming after would not be able to go

  around them and would have to be abandoned as well.

  Maybe they were just traveling a little more slowly than they might,

  realizing they would lose more time to broken wheels and axles in such

  country than they would by showing the care needed to prevent accidents

  in the first place.

  He drew and released a long breath. The convoy was coming at last.

  Silent progress through this terrain was impossible for that number of

  wagons despite the thick growth of trees, and the partisans could hear the

>   sounds of their approach long before the first of the advance guards rode

  into view.

  The invading warriors looked tired and sweaty despite the cool autumn

  breeze whipping through even this low place, and both faces and clothes

  were much grimed. Their journey thus far had not been an easy one.

  Ross's heart seemed to slam against his ribs. If they were detected now,

  or at any time in the next few minutes before Allran was ready to make his

  move, they would have a hard fight ahead of them, numerical superiority

  or not.

  The Terran's eyes were silver ice. The wagons were rolling by, each

  drawn by four good drays, each separated from the next by mounted

  warriors. These last looked as trail-worn as the deermen leading the

  convoy had been, but like them, they were alert and rode with their hands

  on their swords. All wore the Condor Hall insignia.

  Bad news. These men would not break or cast down their arms as had

  the mercenaries riding with the herd. Zanthor intended that this

  shipment should get through.

  Ross's head raised in the old, defiant manner. He would see to it that it

  did not.

  The minutes crept by like weeks. Would the lead riders never reach

  Allran's position?

  It came then, the familiar, every-terrible clamor of battle—the shouts,

  the curses, the screaming of frightened dray deer, the clash of good steel

  against steel.

  The first sounds of it had scarcely reached his ears before he sent Lady

  Gay forward. The partisans spread out along the narrow front of the rift

  riding rapidly to encircle the rear guard.

  Because of the nature of the place, each party found itself more or less

  equally matched in numbers in the first moments of combat before all the

  attackers were able to reach and engage their targets. The invaders had

  apparently realized this would be the case if they were attacked and had

  prepared themselves to take advantage of that fact, for they responded

  with amazing swiftness not only to fell as many of their foes as possible in

  the time thus given them but to block the narrow road against them so

  that only a limited number could come at them, however many had begun

  the assault.

  The tall cliffs lining most of the way helped their cause. There was only

  a slender shoulder where the rift met the advancing rock, wide enough to