Flight of Vengeance (Witch World: The Turning)

by Andre Norton

  “Reinforcements? How many?”

  “One hundred and twenty. From Ravenfield.” Her expression clouded. “What do they want here? We are hard pressed enough to care for ourselves, much less for them.”

  “Be silent!” the Captain snapped suddenly in a tone that startled and stilled her. “They have come to us in force, which is more than can be said for any of your other valiant neighbors.”

  He gripped his temper. Weariness and strain were gnawing at all of them; it was his to remain conscious of that and allow it no sway over him. “At least, we compelled them to undergo the same training as we gave Seakeep's people since we annexed their Dale. They need not be as good to give us excellent service better than any of those less rigorously schooled.”

  “You know their history,” Una said.

  “They have not fought, but, Lady, neither had a great many of these other Dalesfolk we are being forced to use, not against an enemy such as this. We have both seen what they have managed to accomplish these past weeks.

  “As for the Ravenfielders’ lack of spirit, their coming here reveals some spark of that. They alone of all this region's Dales were not summoned to our aid. They have marched into peril of their own wills and by their own initiative.”

  He glanced back in the direction from which the Holdruler had come. “Shall we make our recruits welcome, my Lady?”

  The Mountain Hawk studied the newcomers closely. They were a fine enough looking unit, physically strong and well armed, but it was obvious they read his companion's lack of belief in them and that they shared it in full, hardly an encouraging attitude in men soon to face an enemy of the Sultanites’ caliber. He would have to do what he could to alter that, and alter it quickly.

  He bade them welcome and offered them his thanks, frankly stating the defenders’ need of their support. This done, he dismissed the most of them, telling them to refresh themselves as best they might.

  Their leader, a big, able-looking Sergeant who called himself Torkis, he kept beside him. “I would have you see where you will be stationed tomorrow.”

  The man gave him salute. “As you will, Captain.”

  Tarlach moved briskly through the Seakeep camp until he came to the place where the wall joined with the great cliff flanking the beach on its right side. “Half your number will stand here. The rest will remain back at first, although I will not number them amongst the reserves. I may want to draw some or all of them into the line almost immediately if the invaders strike as hard as they did during their last assault today.”

  The other nodded but then looked closely upon him. “It is right that you should know that there is some doubt as to how firmly we will stand against any foe.”

  The Falconer's eyes flickered toward him. “Did you come here intending to fly?”

  “No, Captain.”

  “Then let me hear no more of such talk.” His attention fixed once more on the fiercely contested barrier. “You can expect to fear. There is none of us free of that. Own it frankly and then rein it.

  “You began Falconer war training almost at the same time Seakeep's warriors did. We have proven that makes you more than the equal of those soldiers out there on an individual basis, and this wall ensures that you shall usually meet them thus. They come up fast, right enough, and occasionally two or three must be faced at one time, but this, too, lies within our ability to handle. If someone is too heavily pressed, he is not alone. I have purposely crowded the line so that comrades may aid one another without leaving any portion of it uncovered.

  “If one of you or many of you cannot hold, that we can manage as well. It happens time and time again each day. It is the work of the reserves to move in quickly to counter such weakenings.”

  He turned so suddenly that Torkis started to find his eyes fixed upon him. They had an incredibly piercing quality when wielded so. “They have to be given time in which to act. Whatever the pressure, you must hold until help can reach you. If you break before that, you are slain and the most of the rest of us with you.”

  The other man lowered his head, then raised it again. “I can promise little. I do not know what we are capable of doing, but at the least, we should be able to provide some sort of delaying action for the rest of you.”

  “That is all any of us are doing, Sergeant.”

  He sighed then and looked hastily away lest the despair welling up in him be read.

  One rider and one falcon had gone forth from here, and the way was long and rough between Seakeep and Linna. Right now, it seemed impossible that they should get through in any reasonable time, much less win the aid of the army they sought and return again with it before the beleaguered garrison was utterly swept away.

  Una came to Tarlach's cottage as soon as she had seen the newcomers settled.

  She frowned at finding him still alone, but she supposed she should not grudge Brennan a few additional minutes of rest apart from his duties, and she made no comment as she bent to help him with the stack of reports still awaiting his attention as she did each night.

  Both of them were tired and little inclined for speech, but there was an additional heaviness in the woman's silence that bespoke some burden of mind.

  The Falconer watched her for a few minutes, but when she gave no indication of revealing the cause of her trouble or of admitting that she was troubled at all, he roused himself and reached over to her so that his fingers brushed the back of her hand.

  “You have cause to be angry with me,” he said gently. “I was beyond my right before.”

  “For snarling at me? Hardly. I would that you would flare out for a fact. The fate of a continent is too much weight for any man to have to bear, and you will allow yourself no release at all, not even with those of us closest to you.” Her eyes fell, and she turned away. “Knowing that makes me even more ashamed. …”

  “Of what?” he demanded. Of all the remarks she might have made, this was about the last he would have expected.

  “I failed you utterly in Lormt. I knew you were in difficulty. Both Storm Challenger and my own senses told me that, yet I waited until your peril was actually upon you before coming in search of you. I was afraid I would anger or embarrass you if I acted prematurely.”

  She could not keep the sob out of her voice, although no tears followed it. Una knew that this was her exhaustion talking, even as weariness had made Tarlach snap at her earlier, but she could not seem to stop herself. “I live in terror of betraying you again, here.”

  “You have never betrayed or failed me, nor shall you! I am more likely to serve you so with my grand plan of standing off these invaders in this place and my promise of aid that might never come.”

  He smiled to see the quick anger flash in her eyes. “You frown to hear such nonsense from me, though it is more firmly based than your own fears. Let us both put aside pointless guilt and concentrate on what must be done here. That gives us problems enough without our inventing more.”

  He raised her hand and kissed it, then lifted his head to look at her again. “I was right about wanting and needing you beside me. I do not know if I could even stand without your strength to support mine.”

  “You would stand!” Her voice lowered. “We both must. Fate has given us no other choice.”

  19

  Dawn had not yet begun to brighten the sky when the Falconer serving as his aid roused Seakeep's war commander.

  Tarlach was enough disciplined to swing instantly from his bed, although mind and body cried out to remain at rest.

  He ate quickly and with better appetite than usual, the result of his fast of the previous evening, and hastened to wash and clean his face of beard.

  That last ritual was no hollow vanity but a form of warfare in itself, a sign to comrade and foe alike that pride and spirit lived yet, despite hardship and the rage of the hostile army ever ravening for his life and his cause's utter destruction.

  He managed a grin at his reflection in the dim glass. No, vanity had no part at all i
n it. This gaunt, grim image would not fuel that.

  He had scarcely finished before Brennan came into the room. Exploded into it.

  The Captain sighed inwardly, guessing what had so roused his friend. “A fair day to you, Lieutenant,” he said casually. “You have seen the line?”

  “Are you insane? Manning so large a portion of the wall with those Ravenfielders is little less than suicide!”

  “Our reserves are there to support them. At the least, they will give our tried warriors a few hours’ extra rest.”

  “As likely as not, it will be a few minutes!”

  “Even that is a help—Brennan, our people need their aid. I believe we are safe enough in trusting to it as long as there is good support near to hand. Besides, I want to bring them into action as quickly as possible. The doing is easier than the anticipating.”

  “Why not use the full of their number, then?” the other asked sourly.

  Tarlach replied with a slow smile. “I am not quite that trusting, my friend. We might not be able to manage the emergency so easily if a hundred and twenty should break all of a sudden. The success of half their company will serve the others nearly as well as active involvement of their own even if I do not draw upon them during the day.”

  “You will not utilize them as reserves?”

  The Mountain Hawk shook his head. “No, not for a day or so until they see our needs for themselves.”

  Brennan nodded. Reason supported that. The warriors backing those on the wall had to be able to respond instantaneously, almost instinctively, to the demands of the battle. Danger developed too quickly at times for them to depend upon previous instructions or to wait upon the commands of officers.

  The blue eyes fixed on him. They mirrored deep concern. “To all this, I yield, but not that you must place yourself so near to them. Even were they noted for being a valiant people, they are still untried.”

  “All the more reason that they should have an officer's support,” he responded quietly.

  “Tarlach, listen to me. We need you too desperately to risk you so. Change places with me or even with the Lady Una. At least then, you will have proven warriors beside you if you should come into trouble. We are both more expendable.”

  “I cannot, Comrade. They know your opinion of them and do not need that to reinforce their own.”

  He smiled. “I shall not be in their midst, you know, just beside their position, and I will have their Sergeant at my right. He looks to be an able man, whether those with him be so or nay. Whatever little safety there is for any of us shall be mine in full measure.”

  The two men hastened to take their places, although there was still no trace of light in the sky; neither of them believed their enemies would delay their attack very long once dawn began to unfold in earnest.

  That assumption proved no false one, and the first gray streaks of light revealed the invading host already massed to begin their assault.

  Tarlach's eyes closed. There seemed no lessening whatsoever in their number. By the Horned Lord, was their Sultan god restoring their slain and wounded to them each night?

  The blast of their trumpet and the chilling cry following it drove that bit of folly from his mind.

  He looked to the Ravenfielders. The invaders’ war cry did not trouble them. They had been told to expect it, and it was no more to them than the battle shout of any other people.

  The size of the enemy army was another matter. No one could see that vast horde arrayed against him without quailing, and these perceptibly wavered. Would they shatter completely?

  The Sultanites were at the barrier, scaling it. The newcomers shuddered under their impact but then steadied.

  To their own infinite amazement, they kept their enemies off the wall. Some weakened, some went down, but their comrades on either side were ready with aid, and never once was their position seriously breached. When the invaders were at last driven off, they watched them retreat with a new feeling of pride, and their Sergeant's head was high when he raised his bloodstained blade in salute to the Falconer Captain. This was a moment they would cherish and would build upon, any of them who survived what was yet to come.

  The Mountain Hawk acknowledged Torkis's salute before turning his attention back to the fleeing Sultanites. He had seen them recede thus so many times, sometimes in what amounted to a route, and as on every one of those previous occasions, he raged in his heart because he could not capitalize on their momentary weakness and confusion. If his army had not been so hopelessly tiny, victory should have been his.

  His head bowed in his despair. As always before during these last dreadful weeks, the invaders came to an enforced halt at the waves’ edge, regrouped, and charged again.

  Time after time, the incredibly vicious assaults were repeated throughout all that day. The Sultanites were angry, and they were growing worried both for themselves and for their comrades in their falling homeland. They needed no exhortation from officer or from priest to tell them the inevitable result of any further delay in their program, not with the fairly heavy rationing already in effect in their camp. No respite was given their enemies now, not so much as an hour's quarter. The fallen were drawn away from the feet of those still battling, each one instantly replaced by soldiers coming up from behind, as the great army strove to crush the incomprehensibly stubborn defenders by this one fierce, unbroken onslaught.

  The massive attack and the new rage and increased purpose firing it proved to be an awesome challenge to those trying to hold the gate to their homeland. Here at last, they faced all the power of the Sultan's host, not for minutes, but for long and weary hours.

  They withstood its fury as they had withstood its every effort for over a month, but as the day grew old and the sky started to darken to announce the approach of another night, weariness lay upon them like a blanket fashioned of flexible iron.

  Tarlach's face was white and lined with exhaustion, and he had to fight himself just to continue wielding his spear. His movements were no longer as smooth, his responses no longer as swift, and he bled from shoulder and thigh because of the openings his waning powers had given his enemies. Both injuries were nicks, unworthy of notice at all, but they were grim heralds of what must come, and come soon, if he did not have some rest.

  It happened at last. The Falconer brought his spear up too slowly, then so poorly timed his strike that his target easily avoided it, gained the wall, and brought his own weapon into play before the defender could move against him again.

  The Sultanite bore a spear as well, short and heavy of shaft. Tarlach leaped aside to escape its barbed point, did escape it, but in so doing abandoned his guard.

  He was aware of his danger even as it developed and quickly brought his weapon up to cover himself again, too quickly for his opponent to check the swing of spear and thrust with it a second time. The man was wily, however, and very fast. Rather than attempting to counter the motion of his weapon, he utilized it, striking with its shaft to catch the Falconer squarely in the breast.

  The full of his considerable strength was behind that blow, and the Mountain Hawk was thrown back under the force of it, off the platform to crash on the rubble-strewn ground beneath.

  He remained conscious, but the breath had been driven from him. He lay still, looking up at the missile whose release would seal his doom. Storm Challenger was deep in a battle of his own and could not break off to help him this time. …

  The spear flew.

  Another warrior hurtled from the wall, interposing himself between the Falconer and the fast-flying dart.

  The weapon struck true, and Torkis of Ravenfield jerked violently, his back pierced by the spear he had thereby deflected from its intended target.

  He had saved the Captain his deathblow, but he had also wrought his undoing. The unconscious man could not turn aside in his fall, and his body struck Tarlach's with the force of a catapulted missile. Dazed as he already was by his own fall and by the blow which had precipitated it, the M
ountain Hawk was rendered utterly helpless. He was still aware of his surroundings, just barely aware of them, but he was powerless to aid his comrade, to even determine whether aid would serve any purpose, powerless to rise, although he knew the breach in the wall's defenses must be sealed. …

  Warriors were around him, most black clad, some wearing the Ravenfield uniform. Torkis was lifted off him, then he himself was raised and borne toward the cottage where the wounded were being tended.

  The motion and the pain it elicited overmastered his strained senses. The world whirled madly for an instant, and blackness closed over him.

  20

  Tarlach drew up a chair so that he might sit beside Torkis.

  The big man had been incredibly fortunate, enough so that one might almost have believed the Horned Lord had intervened directly to save him. Because of the angle at which he had jumped and the manner in which he had twisted his body, the spear had pierced the heavy muscle of his right shoulder, traveled through the flesh across his back, and emerged through the left shoulder. It was a painful wound, one which had cost him heavily of blood, but it was not dangerous provided significant fever did not seize him, and there was little likelihood of that. Pyra had taken the steps necessary to prevent it before releasing him into the commander's care.

  The Sergeant little liked that this much attention should be given him, and he was not slow to protest once the Mountain Hawk had seated himself.

  “I am not nigh to death that I should take your bed, Captain.”

  “It is yours for the next few nights all the same. I shall not be gainsaid in that. Besides, neither of us will have enough time to spend in it to make this worth the arguing.”

  Tarlach himself had suffered no injury apart from the myriad of deep bruises blackening his body. That would not have been the case had the Dalesman not acted as he had, and his eyes darkened. It was precious poor return he could make for such sacrifice, and that was what Torkis's move had, in fact, been. “I would I could send you to the highlands altogether.”