by M. S. Brook
I laughed at the thought. The wind was gusting over the top of the hill, flattening the long grasses. I hadn’t noticed it below on the road, but now I felt it whisper at my ears and tug at the ends of my leather helmet straps. I reached for the chain around my neck and pulled out the pledgestone. My father’s gift to me. I held it up and watched it shimmer, radiant colors shifting in the dazzling sunlight. I could almost hear the sound of Uncle Leo’s voice in the murmur of the wind. “Always remember that you belong to the promise,” he had said. I let the stone fall on the outside of my tunic, aware that Rowland was looking at me.
“This was a gift from my father. It’s called a pledgestone.”
“It’s beautiful,” Rowland said. “I’ve always wondered what sort of pendant you wore.”
“It’s my remembrance of the promise of Enfys. I never take it off. Uncle Leo asked me to keep it hidden, but I want to be able to see it now.”
Rowland nodded. We led our horses down the hill, back to our places in the column. On to Evergreen.
Even more surprising than the growing throng of yeomen volunteers were those musicians who came to join our little company of minstrels. Men and women, who knew nothing of the healing arts, were drawn by the songs the healers played. They asked to follow along with us, and our minstrels agreed to take turns with the horses in order to let them come. I couldn’t help thinking that we sounded more like a celebration than a war march, and I wondered if our discipline was getting slack. I brought it up one evening at the officer’s campfire.
“When we cross the Plevin, everything will change,” I said. “I fear that we are not prepared for the deadly peril we will face. And I am not sure that all this lightheartedness is helping us get ready.”
Uncle Fergal dropped a handful of tea leaves into a boiling kettle and set it to the side of the fire. “I say let them be happy for now. They’ll become serious soon enough when they see enemy ground.”
Constable Hill agreed. “We’ll make sure they’re ready, when the time comes. But the memory of these happy times will sustain them in the battle that lies ahead. It will help them remember what they’re fighting for.”
I nodded. It was wise advice, but somehow I couldn’t feel the same lightheartedness. The burst of triumph I’d felt at the beginning of the march had worn off for me. Perhaps it was the lingering memory of our failed strike into Domaine. That march had also begun with great hope and anticipation, but ended in a disaster that we dared not repeat. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about spies betraying us this time, but I was not reassured. Saduk knew we were coming and would have plenty of time to plan his response.
The further north we marched, the more I brooded and worried. I could still hear Sir Donal asking in his measured voice if I understood that I would be taking the men of Canwyrrie away from their families and lands. I wondered if Sir Ailin was right. Had we embarked upon a reckless scheme? I was the seer, but all that was clear to me was the path in front of my eyes; where the path finally led was hidden in the mist.
We marched on, and our story grew. Before we reached Evergreen, the yeomanry numbers overtook those of the Guardian regulars, more than doubling our strength. Our provisions increased too, as our countrymen along the way continued to bring us wagons filled with dried stores. We sent ahead for Evergreen to make additional casks to carry our drinking water.
At Evergreen we were greeted by the last welcoming crowd we would see. I waved at Azar and our patrol and all the friends I’d made on my frequent visits to the settlement. Colm, wearing the Evergreen militia’s forest green colors, was the first to reach us. He took Morningstar’s reins while I slid out of the saddle. “I’ll see that he’s brushed and fed, my lady.”
A quiet voice behind him said, “That’s my job, young man.” Tal held out his hand for the reins, and Colm gave them up without protest.
“You look well in the Green, Colm,” I said.
Rowland slapped him on the shoulder. “You do! Looks like they put some meat on you too.”
Colm grinned. “Never ate better in my life, sir.” He looked back at me. “My lady, do you remember when you said we’d give Saduk something to think about?”
I nodded. “Indeed I do.”
“Well, I’m ready—if you’ll have me.”
“I’ll vouch for you myself. We’ve got a stiff fight ahead of us, and we could sure use your help.”
“Yes, my lady! Count on it!”
Later I managed to squeeze in a few private words with Nieve, who was nervous and excited all at once. “Oh, do you think I can do this?” she asked. “I never imagined I would go on a war march. I’m so glad Linden will be with us too.”
I gave her a sharp look. “Linden?” I was gratified to see her blush. For once, she was the one to be flustered.
“Well, he’s…he’s become a good friend, of course, and I rely on him so much.”
I nodded with a serious face, but Nieve didn’t notice.
“And he’s grown so much as a healer,” she said. “Do you know he has the most beautiful dreams about Domaine? He said he stopped dreaming when he fled his home, but now he’s dreaming again. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It is.” I grinned. “It’s all wonderful.”
“Oh, Aidy, you’re teasing me, but I can’t go there in my mind. There’s too much that could happen.”
“I understand that better than you think. A wise man named Lionel told me that everything has its time and place.”
This time Nieve threw the sharp look. “Is there something I should know about?”
“We’ll talk later. Right now I have to get moving.”
We had a short time to eat and rest, and then all the officers gathered around a long table in River Hall, where Constable Carlin laid out our immediate plans. We would stop in Evergreen for a fortnight to rest and then travel west to the nearest fording place. The supply wagons would start several days earlier. There was no road along the river, so their pace would be slow. They would wait for us at the fording place, allowing the horses to be well-rested when the main body caught up with them. Once we crossed the river, we would travel east until we reached the Balton Road.
Azar had worked closely with Captain Zerikon, planning a route that would give us best access to water and grazing for our horses. He reported that the Evergreen militia was ready to go with us if we’d let them. “They can spare most of their trained fighting men, and Nieve’s healing school has asked to go with us too. Evergreen understands that their future is tied to ours. They will fight with us.”
At that, Torin spoke up. “We have a history with these Evergreens. They already failed us once when we were in a tight spot.”
“And what about spies?” Brady added. “One spy could spoil everything.” There was murmured agreement around the table.
“It’s true the Evergreens made a poor showing, but they are eager to make it right,” said Azar. “I believe they will be solid this time. But as to the possibility of spies…I don’t know if we can be sure.”
“Sergeant Brady has brought up a grave concern,” Carlin said. “Much of what we do will be open for all to see. We cannot hide an army, and we will march straight up the Balton Road. No surprises there. However, any strategies or plans to trap Saduk would have to be kept to officers only, and any Evergreen who goes with us would have to be verified by Captain Zerikon.”
Carlin glanced my way, and I said, “I think we should give them another chance. After all, it’s their land we’re fighting for.”
Constable Hill nodded his agreement. “The militia’s help would be of great value to us. We have no quarrel with the people of Domaine—having Evergreens with us could go a long way toward proving our intentions.”
“I agree,” said Uncle Fergal. “Let them come.”
All was quiet for a time. Faces were changing, and a few heads nodded. “Wise counse
l,” Carlin said. “I will convey to Captain Zerikon that we accept his gracious offer. It is right that Evergreens have the chance to fight for their own land. Any Evergreen not needed to guard the settlement will be welcome to join us. As well, I will convey our concern about spies. All meetings will be held behind closed doors and for officers only.”
In the next few days Guardian and Evergreen officers spent many hours going over Azar’s maps and planning our strategies. We had three imperatives. First, we had to hammer out a sure way to force Saduk out from behind his protective walls. Second, we needed to identify the most likely places where Saduk might attack us. And finally, we needed to prepare a trap for the trapper.
The Evergreens became key to the first part of our plan. We would send them ahead of us with a large company of scouts. They were to speak to the Dominians they met along the way, informing them that Saduk was not their rightful lord, that we were come to free them from his oppressive rule, and that he was afraid to fight with us. Zerikon thought that the common folk would neither hinder nor support our cause. They would be too fearful of Saduk and too weary and hopeless to believe that anything could change, but we did not need them to join us. It only mattered that word of what we were doing would reach Saduk’s ears, forcing him to respond to us. Captain Zerikon, with his knowledge of Saduk and of the country we were passing through, was convinced that Saduk would wait until we were deep into Domaine to attack.
“But will his impatience and anger not force him out sooner?” asked Constable Hill.
“Saduk is not patient, but he is much too cunning to attack us at the beginning of our journey. The closer we are to his fortress, the more Saduk will feel in control of the situation. He knows we will have used up a good portion of our supplies, and we will have no place to fall back to. But he will have his fortress and all manner of supplies if he needs it. As well, there is the difficulty of moving a large number of vithons over a distance. No, his best position is within sight of Bal Zor.”
“Good,” Constable Carlin said, “let him think that we are being drawn into his hands. The more confident he is, the better for our purposes. And that brings us to the question of the trap.”
“The region of Bal Zor,” said Zerikon, “is heavily wooded until you come close to the River Zor. The fortress lies in a wide bend of the river. The whole bend area is cleared and given to farmlands—the village of Balton is situated in the midst of the fields. I expect that Saduk will let us walk up the road without resistance. But he will hide troops beyond the cleared tract, in the woods behind Balton. He will wait until we are surrounded, and then he will drop his drawbridge and send in the vithons. The noose will tighten around us, and I don’t need to tell you that the vithons fight well in close quarters. The Bezarqs will clean up what’s left.”
“So we will hide a quarter of our forces in the woods,” Carlin said. “We will allow Saduk to spring his trap, then we will spring ours. Our reinforcements will attack the noose from outside and open up the field. We will draw out the vithons and Bezarqs and storm the bridge while the gates are open. What do you think?”
Zerikon’s face was sober. “If all goes as planned, we have a good chance of success.”
Constable Carlin was quiet for a moment, looking at each of his officers, by turn. “I don’t have to tell you that the road ahead will be hard. We have an army that is different from any we have ever known—a mixture of raw volunteers, Evergreen militia, and seasoned Guardians. We have a fortnight to forge them into a battle-ready force. We must be one army when we step across the Plevin. You have your assignments.”
Before we left, I had a final chat with Orabella. “Do you have any words of wisdom to speed us on our way?” I asked her.
“Only this,” she said. “On this journey, your vision will be your weapon. Like one of your arrows, your seeing is sharp and true and far-reaching—but mind where you aim it. To look in the wrong place is to be blind.”
Orabella saw my questioning look and held up her hand. “Do not fear. Your heart will see where you must aim your weapon.”
Chapter 32
All the way through Canwyrrie, we’d marched with the wind at our backs, but it turned on us when we crossed the Plevin. Blowing in our faces, that dry, dusty blast swept away every trace of the high spirits we’d enjoyed on the first part of our journey.
We left the border behind us and entered an arid country. Withered, brown grasses crunched underfoot, and great cracks opened like thirsty mouths in the parched earth. Young saplings bowed over, too weak to stand upright. The harsh wind had no pity on the land of Domaine. It tormented every living thing that dared raise its head above the dirt.
As we marched, I found myself giving in to a compelling need to look behind me. The army was still dutifully following us—at least as far as I could see, but if I was feeling restless and uneasy, it was likely that I wasn’t alone. Rowland was riding at my left, his sturdy shoulders squared against the wind. I was grateful that in spite of our recent awkwardness, we’d slipped back into our normal pattern of easy conversation.
“I remember the feel of this land,” I said to him, “and I like it no better the second time around.”
“It’s sure not like home, is it? Even the air tastes foul over here.”
It was worse than foul. The stale wind made my eyes itch and burn, coating my nostrils and throat with the fine gray dust stirred up by the horses. I grabbed one of the water skins that hung from my saddle and took a drink, swishing the water around in my mouth before swallowing, careful not to waste a drop of the now precious liquid.
We traveled eastward toward the Balton Road, the wagons rumbling over meadows that were as hard as paved roadway. Farmers in the nearby fields were leaning into their hoes, toiling to harvest something edible from the dry clods of dirt under their feet. They stopped and stared at us as we rode past. Several of the Evergreens went to talk with them.
“Isn’t it odd that they don’t run from us?” I said to Rowland.
“Where would they go? I’m sure they know we could run them down if we wanted to.”
“I hope we don’t frighten them too much. They get enough of that from Saduk.”
“The Evergreens will tell them that our business is with Saduk and his Bezarqs.”
When we stopped at noon, I approached Captain Zerikon. “Sir, how did the Dominians respond?” I asked.
“They didn’t say much, but their ears were pricked. They’ll be telling others what we said. Word will get around.”
That first day seemed endless. The longer I was in the land, the more its song filled my senses. Its complaint was in the sibilant winds that whipped the dry grasses and threw dust in our eyes. Our company of musicians heard it too. Flutes and pipes, so joyful in past days, became muted and subdued, mournful even. The rhythm of the drums was now dull and dreary, echoing the smothering, heavy mood of Domaine.
The deeper we marched into the tortured land, the more it ate at us. Even the well-disciplined Guardians felt it. Though they said nothing, I saw it in their faces. It was more than the alertness of trained warriors. They kept looking all around as if they expected something terrible to fall on us.
Still, as I rode on, a quiet inward breath began to stir my heart—a whisper of something different—calling to mind the echo of distant chimes or the sounds of an ancient river splashing in caverns of the deep. Was it a memory of long ago? Or a remnant of laughter and singing once heard in this land?
I turned my ear inward to hear it better, but it was gone, like a mirage of sound, leaving me to wonder if it was real or imagined.
We made camp that first night in the valley where my patrol had fought Saduk a few months earlier. “The militiamen call it the Dorinvaal,” Azar told us. “The River Dor runs through it on its way to join the Plevin.”
Rowland was unimpressed with the muddy river bed. “It’s but a poor trickle compa
red to what it must have been.”
“True.” Azar walked over and stepped into the muck along the edge of the stream, leaving deep prints in the soft soil. In a moment, brownish water seeped into his footprints. “It’s not much, but the horses will be glad of it, and there’s grass for them too, here along the bank.”
The dammed-up pool was still there as I remembered. No doubt it was once a large, deep basin, but now it was shallow and muddy. We dug it out all along the banks and waited for the silt to settle, and then did our best to wash off the dust and grime caked on our sweaty arms and faces. We used the tepid pool water for everything but drinking, saving our stores for days ahead.
After washing, I reluctantly pulled my heavy mail coat back on. One day of Domaine’s weather and already my skin felt parched and wrinkled. At least I didn’t turn pink like the fair-skinned Canwyrs, but I wondered what my face and hair must look like. Just as well that mirrors were not part of a Guardian’s kit.
Downstream the big draft horses that pulled our wagons were drinking and splashing in the water. The man watching over them looked familiar. I threaded through the jostling crowd of horses and men. “Tal?” I said. “What are you doing here? It’s too dangerous for you.”
“My lady.” Tal bobbed his head. “Someone’s got to take care of these horses. They’ve a long way to pull, and I know how to bring out the best in them.”
“I can’t argue with that—but promise me you will watch out for yourself.”
Tal nodded. “I will. You do the same, my lady.”
We set up our tents and started cooking fires. The night closed in on us, dark as the inside of a blanket. Not a single star was visible. A half moon rose, its light muffled by the thick weave of clouds overhead. We huddled around our small fires, listening to the mournful melody of a lone piper drifting over from the minstrels’ camp. The comforts of a hot meal and crackling fire failed to cheer our hearts.
