The Stonegate Sword

by Harry James Fox

  Philip handed Don a rolled-up parchment, obviously the tally of captured goods and equipment, and then took the seat. Dropping his helm to the floor, he put his face in his hands. “I did not know it would be like this,” he said, with a choked voice. Then he put his face in his hands, and his shoulders began to shake.

  Don had not really been in a mood to celebrate, either, and Philip pulled his mood down further. He gently patted the boy’s shoulder. “Is it your parents? What is it?”

  Philip raised his flushed face. His cheeks were slippery with tears. “Forgive me!” he choked. “You must think me a pitiful weakling!”

  “I think no such thing. You proved yourself a man yesterday. And a gallant one!”

  “If you only knew!” Philip paused, then continued, haltingly. “The first part of the battle was—exciting, I suppose. I was glad to fire some arrows at the Raiders chasing you.”

  Philip stopped, and seemed unable to speak for a few minutes. His prominent Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, several times, and he wiped his face.

  “I have not forgotten your help! Go on.”

  “It was the last part—when we had them surrounded before the gate. I—I don’t know how to explain.”

  Don recalled Robert’s words. “It was ugly, butcher’s work. Is that it?”

  “Yes! I could not do it. I hated these men, you see. I thought I would be happy, because I wanted them dead. But it was not like I thought …” He was forcing his words out. He stopped, clinching his jaws. He sat erect now, as if facing a trial judge.

  “But then I saw that the ones continuing to fight were brave men—gallant! The cowardly ones were throwing down their swords! I had imagined cutting them all down and laughing. But I could not do it!”

  “Of course not, Philip,” snapped Don. “You wore light scout armor. You had no business fighting them sword to sword! In fact, I ordered several scouts back for that very reason!”

  “I lost my nerve. I could only watch in horror! Afterward, I dismounted and vomited. I shamed myself—let everyone down …” Philip could say no more. He put his face in his hands again.

  Don hardly knew what to say. The boy’s shoulders were shaking as he wept silent sobs. So Don waited silently for a few minutes to let him compose himself.

  “Philip!” said Don, sternly. “Nothing you have said shames you. Respecting the foe, and understanding that they are human, does you credit. Do you think I enjoyed ordering their deaths? I hated it as much as you!”

  Philip glanced up. “Really?” he said.

  “You fought bravely as long as the battle was in doubt. You only faltered out of mercy when you saw their cause was hopeless! I don’t fault you for that. And you had no business doing the job of a fully-armored horse trooper, anyway. So let’s hear no more about letting anyone down. You did not.”

  “Do you want me to resign?”

  “No! I certainly do not. I need you, Philip. Though we will have to do more dirty work—much of it—before this thing is done. I want you to be my assistant.” Don could see Philip hesitating.

  “Just say yes. But you have taken on a big job if you do. Now go get your gear from the barracks and bring it here. There is an extra cot that you can use. I need my aide close by my elbow.”

  †

  Sometimes, before a thunderstorm, the black clouds will rise high above and come charging in like an angry fleet with black sails hoisted and fire coming from the mast-tops. The air can feel syrup-heavy with electricity as claps of thunder shake the ground. As the front approaches, the winds will die and a coldness will settle to the earth like a shroud on a corpse. Then everything hushes for a long moment of anticipation before the wildness of the gale strikes. It is not a pleasant quietness.

  The next two weeks were like that. Everyone knew that storm was about to break on them. But for the time being, everything seemed normal and calm, though an icy chill had settled that had nothing to do with weather. The most ominous sign was the heliograph messages—one morning they ceased. The West had gone silent, and the silence shouted for attention!

  Don was overseeing the training of a score of new recruits for the horse troops, when Robert came by. “Come on, Don. We have another meeting to attend. The marshall wants both of us to be there.”

  “More meetings!” Don was not pleased. He liked to concentrate on one thing at a time, and lately he had been pulled in several directions at once, like a juggler with five balls in the air.

  “Don’t I know it!” returned Robert, with a snort. “If a victory spawns this kind of a mare’s nest, I never want to see a defeat!”

  “What do you mean, mare’s nest?” asked Don, as they walked toward Samuel’s headquarters.

  “The Chief Surgeon is blaming us for the deaths of his Gray Pilgrims—he is convinced that they are all dead! The town council of Bethuel wants to disband the horse troopers. They say that with the Raiders gone, we are not needed anymore, and Ariel is half-inclined to agree. And the townspeople in Glenwood are up in arms. They say that we have provoked the Prophet and he will certainly take revenge! They threw garbage at our last patrol as they passed by the gates.”

  “So much for gratitude!”

  “My thought exactly!”

  †

  The meeting turned out to be long and stormy, but there never was a serious threat of disbanding the horse troops. Most of the time was taken up in deciding where to house the displaced families from down-river and setting up labor camps for the prisoners. Fortunately, the town levies were handling these problems, which meant that they were Samuel’s problem, but not a worry of Robert or Don.

  Malcolm and Abel formally expressed Lord Kerik’s displeasure at the sweeping of the river and the destruction of the Raider band. His message placed the blame for the deaths of his Gray Pilgrims on Robert and Donald’s heads! Abel reminded the council of war that the Prophet had a system of post riders and carrier pigeons that quickly brought news to Prophet City—and transmitted his orders to the field nearly as fast. Kerik had finally agreed that Abel could take the post as the chief intelligence officer for Samuel. He was well qualified, having served as spymaster for the House of Healing for many years.

  Don’s thoughts turned to Rachel, and he felt a longing to simply leave and ride to Stonegate. But then what? he wondered. Making a decision out of anger was foolish. Then he thought of Deborah. His anger at her had slowly faded away, as his respect for her had grown. She was now staying in one of the inns in Ariel, and was working in a small clinic that Timothy Stonehewer had set up. She was being trained to be an apprentice healer by a surgeon on loan from the House of Healing.

  Robert and Don joined Malcolm and Abel in the small common room of the “Flaming Sword” after the meeting. They all toasted Abel and congratulated him for his new post. Then the other three fell to talking about old times. Don began thinking about other things, his drink untouched. A taro player was singing a traditional song about the wonders of the old empire and all that had been lost. The tune was called, Why Can’t We Fly On Eagle’s Wings Again? It asked a good question. But it appeared that instead of regaining the legendary marvels, the world might be falling farther into darkness.

  Chapter 26

  †

  Invasion

  The king of the North will again raise a multitude larger than the first. After some years he will advance with a great army and many supplies.

  Daniel 11: 13 HCSB

  The invasion began with enemy horse, as everyone had expected. Don was one of the first to learn of it, even before it could be flashed by heliograph to the roof of the House of Healing. He had gone to the field with a patrol of the full Bow Troop. They had accompanied a supply delivery by pack train to the Diné base on a high plateau named Grand Mesa. The Grand Mesa camp was well hidden in some pine timber, and was in a good position to send pat
rols north and south of the river, covering every path and road between Junction and the Haven area.

  Don, Blackie and Danny Yazzi had been in conference in a snug octagon-shaped cabin that was heavily plastered on the outside with a layer of clay. Five or six other cabins stood nearby, along with some lean-tos. Danny had called the cabin a hooghan and had pointed out another low structure—a sweat-house. A Diné patrol had returned from scouting an area north of the river called Battlement Mesa. This mesa had provided excellent overlook over the entire Junction area and for miles farther west. Nothing could be brought into the growing tent city that formed the base for the Prophet’s army without being seen. The keen-eyed Diné scouts had been able to keep an accurate count on the enemy forces and had kept Marshall Samuel aware of the danger facing him.

  But there was a buzz of excitement when the patrol returned, haggard, bearing a half-dozen wounded. No lives had been lost, but it was only their superior skill that had saved them, as their report made clear. Don’s patrol had a medic along, Thad, who soon was doing his best to treat the most serious cases. Most were suffering arrow wounds. Though, since the scouts wore light breastplates and matching backplates, the wounds were mostly in legs and arms. Two horses had been lost, and some others were wounded.

  The patrol leader was brought into the cabin with two of his chief scouts. They made a full report to Danny in the Diné language. No translation was provided, so Don and Blackie simply sat cross-legged on the floor, in the same pose as all the others, and patiently waited until Danny had learned what had happened. Don had met the leader of the patrol before, on the way to Owl Hollow.

  Finally, Danny turned away from his men and began to speak in the Common Tongue. “This is bad news!” he began. “I fear that we have lost the mesa north of the river.”

  “Lost?” asked Don. “But that was our best way to see the enemy camp, was it not? From the other mesa?”

  “True. But the enemy knows this, too. They have decided to take it away from us and keep it for themselves.”

  “I see. Perhaps I should let you explain.”

  “Yes. My sister’s son, Wilson, says that they were on top of the mesa and were counting men in the enemy camp, when enemy horsemen came from the north. They were already on top of the mesa. These were not lightly armed like the Raiders. They were armed like your men. But they also wore breastplates over their mail. Their horses also wore mail across their chest. They had more mail around their flanks and rear, down to their hocks. This, truly, is heavy cavalry, Sir Donald.”

  Don’s mind was racing. He had never heard of enemy cavalry like this before. Breastplates over mail sounds like a defense against crossbows!

  “How were they armed?” Don asked.

  Danny spoke in his tongue to Wilson, who answered in kind. Then Danny made the translation: “They were armed with spears and swords. A few had crossbows. A few had axes. Their shields looked like yours, with a round top and pointed bottom.”

  “No longbows?” Don asked.

  Again the question and answer. “None that they saw,” answered Danny. “I will now go on with the story. They were not caught unaware, but the cavalry came very fast. Our scouts returned the way they had come. They were not pressed hard. The enemy horses had a big load, and could not run fast. But our scouts were not watching ahead as they should. They ran into many Raiders waiting for them.”

  “It sounds like a planned ambush,” commented Blackie.

  “Yes … ambush. That is the word,” said Danny. “They were hit by arrows. Wilson and the others returned fire and rode through. It was a hard time.”

  “Did they chase them?” asked Blackie.

  “No, Sir Blackie,” answered Danny. “Just as far as the river. No farther. But I think we can no longer use Battlement Mesa.”

  The meeting broke up so that they could go check on the condition of the wounded. Blackie, who had some practical veterinarian training, looked at the wounded horses, but they were being well cared for. One of the Diné had already succeeded in drawing three arrowheads from the horses and was applying a poultice to the wounds.

  The condition of the scouts was worse. One had an arrowhead in his thigh that had bent and could not be withdrawn in the field. Thad shook his head. “I can give him something to keep infection away and for the pain. But I can’t get the point out. He will have to go to the House of Healing, and he will have to go there immediately. Otherwise, he could lose the leg.”

  “Why can’t you cut it out?” asked Wilson.

  “Because it is near the femoral artery. One slip of the knife, and he would bleed to death.”

  The leaders conferred. Finally, everyone agreed to send the pack train back with the injured man and one mount of ten troopers as guard. They re-loaded most of the supplies they had just brought and promised to deposit them about ten miles back the way they had come—near to another campsite. A group of Diné scouts would go along to provide flank security. Within a half-hour, the group was headed back to Fort Baldy with a written report from Don. His speed with a pen had come in handy

  †

  They then drafted a brief report to be sent by heliograph. The station was on the northern edge of Grand Mesa, a short canter away. The messages were relayed to another station on Mamm Peak, then to Storm Mountain, and then to the House of Healing. Because the day was partly cloudy, it was the next morning before a reply came back, since the heliograph required bright sun.

  In the meantime, Danny had decided to start moving the camp off the mesa into the mountains to the northeast. The supplies would be stored in several hidden caches. It would not be possible to defend the mesa top from a determined advance by the enemy. However, Don, Blackie and Danny had spent several hours discussing ways to delay and deny the mesa to enemy cavalry for as long as possible.

  Danny had for the first time mentioned a raid by the Raiders into the Diné homeland—Dinétah. Their object seems to have been intimidation because they had wiped out several isolated families and had made no attempt to take prisoners. Danny and a band of warriors had caught them by surprise and killed them all. But the Diné elders realized that they had to do something to carry the fight to their enemy. That is why they had formed an alliance with Ariel. That is why Danny and his men had been scouting the area for the last six months.

  The Diné lived off parched corn, beans, oats and wheat flour in the field. A staple was bread fried in lard. They also ate wild game and native plants. Their camp had a pair of milk goats that they had transported in cages all the way from their homeland, over two hundred miles to the south. Danny liked goat milk in his coffee and oatmeal, and the milk added a bit of flavor to their monotonous diet. The goats were the first to go. They were loaded on a pack mule and departed before noon, along with much of the camp supplies.

  The message from Samuel was succinct:

  Deny Grand Mesa to enemy cavalry as long as possible. Sending Lances.

  Vital to retrieve latest report from Junction.

  S

  Don puzzled over the message for a few minutes. He wished he had Philip, but the lad had stayed behind to help Abel prepare detailed war plans. The “report” must be a message from one of Abel’s spies. Clearly, Samuel was reinforcing their position to help them delay the enemy. The foe’s logical next step was to throw them off the mesa to the south, just as they had to the north. This time, it would not be so easy for them. But exactly how to best to delay them, Don was not sure.

  Danny had roughly one hundred Diné scouts. Twenty of them and an Ariel heliograph signaler were watching the Kolaroo valley downriver from the abandoned village of Granvely. They had to stay there to give early warning in case of an enemy advance in that direction. Don had brought the fifty troopers that made up the Bow troop, plus ten lightly-armed scouts, a couple of messengers, and a medic. Robert had insisted that he also bring C
olin McCoy as a personal bodyguard, and Don was glad he was there to watch his back. The Lance Troop would add another fifty, at least.

  So Don and Danny had a total of ninety lightly-armed scouts and would have one hundred heavy troopers. Wilson had seen at least two hundred heavy cavalry plus another fifty Raiders. So they were outnumbered, but the difference was not overwhelming. However, they could not count on these numbers. For one thing, it was doubtful that the Prophet’s army was bringing only two hundred heavy cavalry. Most likely, they had many more than that. Secondly, the enemy could send an infantry force to secure Grand Mesa. There was a small village called “Palisade” on the river, almost directly to their north, and the advance guard of the enemy army was camped there. From the north edge of the mesa, Palisade was less than ten miles away. But there was no direct route for an invasion force to take. The mesa was surrounded by cliffs on the north and west. To the west, a creek gave one break in the cliff walls often used by the Diné. The way was steep, but it was passable for horses, and infantry could climb it. However, it was narrow and easily defended.

  Two miles farther to the south, an ancient road lead to the top, but it had many curves and switchbacks. It could also be defended, but less easily. A force taking this route could reach the mesa from Palisade in little more than a day, but the climb would be grueling. The view from the mesa top was ideal, and no-one could approach from the north or west without being seen for miles. There were several large lakes on the mesa, so there was plenty of water.