Into Narsindal [Book Four of The Chronicles of Hawklan]

by Roger Taylor

  It did not take him long to reach Hreldar and his men at a narrow defile some way down the valley. The Lord was disposing his men in defensive order.

  'What's happening?’ he asked.

  Loman told him. ‘I don't know whether it's all or part of his army,’ he said. ‘Or what state they're in. And they're out of sight now. So we'll have to assume the worst. Is this the only way into the valley from this end?'

  Hreldar nodded. ‘As I remember,’ he said. ‘But I'm putting look-outs up on the top to make sure we aren't flanked.'

  Loman glanced up approvingly. ‘There'll be reinforcements here shortly,’ he said.

  Hreldar frowned slightly. ‘It makes no sense,’ he said. ‘They must surely have seen the tower lit up, they'll know we're here and with a superior force to theirs. They must have realized that we'll be waiting for them.'

  Loman shrugged. ‘I'm not even going to try and reason this out, Hreldar, there isn't time. With the confusion back there, a company of cadets could cause havoc. We'll just have to wait and see. There's not much we can do wrong if we keep a strong defensive position.'

  Hreldar nodded then rode off to supervise the continuing disposition of his men across the valley. As Loman waited, Atelon came galloping up. ‘Ryath and some of the others are behind me,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Do you think this is Dan-Tor returning?'

  Loman was about to repeat the answer he had given to Hreldar when there was an urgent whistle from above.

  Loman gaped. It wasn't possible. The column was here already?

  He looked at Hreldar's Guards. They would take a toll, but they were very few, even in this narrow part of the valley. This was going to be bad if the reinforcements didn't arrive soon.

  He motioned Atelon to follow him then drew his sword and rode forward. Hreldar galloped across to join them.

  As they reached the small line of pikemen and archers there was another whistle from above and abruptly the column came into sight.

  It was cavalry, and moving fast.

  The pikes came down and the archers drew their bows.

  Loman peered into the darkening light, his Orthlundyn sight searching desperately into the approaching mass.

  Suddenly he urged his horse forward.

  'Put up your weapons!’ he shouted to the Guards. ‘Put up your weapons! It's Fyndal and the others with the Muster.'

  Later, as the senior officers of the various armies gathered in one of the spartan rooms of the tower fortress, Loman found himself the butt of some considerable banter.

  'A rare welcome, Orthlundyn,’ Urthryn said, laughing as he settled into his chair. ‘We ride down the Pass of Elewart and all through southern Narsindal unhindered, to be greeted by our allies with archers and pikemen.'

  Loman raised his hands. ‘You have my surrender, Ffyrst,’ he announced. ‘But I'll not apologize again. I've been doing it since you arrived. I see now that this is a barrack-room version of your Helangai; dragging the hapless defeated about from rider to rider.'

  Urthryn laughed again, and slapped his legs. Loman saw Sylvriss's features written in her father's.

  'Peace, then, Loman,’ Urthryn said. ‘I'll concede that when I saw your pikes waving in the gloom you gave me a rare fright. I thought that Dan-Tor had caught you napping and locked you in your own tower.'

  'Their tower,’ Loman corrected, nodding towards Eldric and the others.

  Urthryn made a dismissive gesture. ‘Still, I'd hate to think that our companions in this venture were so careless that they'd have let us arrive unnoticed.'

  He became more pensive. ‘It was a good response, indeed,’ he said. ‘Events are moving so fast these past weeks. Good and bad. So many of my people killed by that ... creature's ... treachery. My countrymen squabbling like children in their pain. A great battle fought to defend our soil and avenge our dead and us not there.’ He shook his head. ‘Yet, on the other hand, we travel that accursed Pass and through the enemy's own land without hurt. My daughter rallies my people and then gallops off across the mountains to drop her foal in a Fyordyn farmhouse.’ He gave a sombre chuckle. ‘It's like something out of one of our old tales.'

  His face became serious and, leaning forward, he held out his hands, cupped as if to help someone into the saddle. ‘I accept my daughter's decision without reservation, Loman,’ he said. ‘The Muster will ride at your command.'

  Loman bowed.

  Urthryn relaxed and sat back in his chair. ‘If it's possible I'd like to go to Vakloss and see my child and grandchild.'

  'It isn't possible, Ffyrst.'

  Gulda spared Loman the decision. He gave her a surreptitious look of gratitude.

  'It'll take too long for you to get to Vakloss and back,’ she said. ‘We know nothing of our enemy's forces or intentions, but we do know that the three Uhriel are together in Narsindal again, and that Oklar's force has been gone from here for some time. Sumeral will gain strength from delay; we'll lose it. We must ride to meet Him as soon as the Muster and the army here can be integrated. That's going to mean hard, detailed work. Work that can't be done without you, we can't afford any delay.'

  Urthryn looked down, and passed his hand over his face briefly. ‘Yes,’ he said softly after a moment. ‘I understand. There'll be other times.'

  Gulda leaned forward and laid a sympathetic hand on his arm, and the room fell silent.

  'Tell us about your journey,’ she said after a while. ‘Did you truly meet no opposition?'

  Urthryn came out of his reverie. ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding, his manner mildly surprised. ‘The Pass was grim and unpleasant. It's a forbidding, awful place. I've never ridden along it before. I'd always thought the tales about the wind to be just that—tales. But it howls and moans almost constantly. You've never heard such sounds! I can see now why they call it the Discourse of Sumeral and Elewart...’ He paused and became thoughtful again. ‘The sound seems to seep into your very being. Even now when I lie down to sleep, I can hear it. I don't think I'll ever be truly free of it. And every now and then, there's this sudden silence and you know that one of the Sighs of Gwelayne is coming. It's an indescribable sound...’ His eyes widened. ‘Such pain. Such remorse. Such longing. It's a bad place.'

  'Bad?’ Gulda said, as if prompting him.

  Urthryn frowned a little. ‘No,’ he said reflectively. ‘Perhaps sad would be a better word, but it's a woefully inadequate one.’ He looked at Gulda. ‘Do you know the tale of Elewart and Gwelayne, Memsa?’ he asked.

  Gulda smiled strangely but her reply was simple. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I know the tale of your first king, Urthryn. I know it very well. I know many old tales. I am a teacher.'

  Her eyes became distant and her voice took on a storyteller's lilt. ‘...And Gwelayne's father, already bound to His evil, saw Sumeral's lust and plied his daughter with potions so that His true Self would be hidden from her and she would see only His beauty—for she was no foolish child. And thus besotted, she abandoned her true Elewart and went to Him. And they ruled together for generations as His power waxed and spread far and wide. And she became a haughty and terrible Queen. And as reward, He gave her father his desire and made him Uhriel, binding him yet further to His will. And to the grieving Elewart it is said that He gave great life, though this is debated by some. But, as a tiny seed roots unseen to become a great tree, so Gwelayne's true nature awoke and through the years took back her soul. And though she was held to Him still by her own lust, He knew she saw Him truly and that she would ever loathe Him. And in His wrath, He sought out and slew Elewart. Then, hearing of this, Gwelayne in her grief and remorse, turned from Him utterly and, for all His terrible power, He could not restrain her, for she knew His soul. And Gwelayne...'

  ’ ... wandered the bleak and blasted valley where she had pledged her troth to Elewart and, hearing ever the voices of her true love and her fiery desire disputing through the barren peaks, she pined and died. And Sphaeera, in pity, took her sighs and gave them to the mountains, that they might have s
ome brief respite from the eternal Discourse of Sumeral and Elewart.’ Urthryn's musical Riddin accent finished Gulda's tale.

  Gulda nodded, and all the listeners smiled and applauded softly.

  Then Gulda lifted a gently admonishing finger. ‘And Gwelayne wandered ... And her fate is not known,’ she said slowly, finishing her own telling.

  Urthryn bowed extravagantly. ‘I wouldn't dispute with such a fine teller of tales, teacher. But I'm a romantic and I prefer the romantic ending to the mysterious one.'

  Gulda smiled and looked round the room. ‘But this isn't planning our campaign, is it?’ she said. ‘If all we encounter between here and Derras Ustramel is a sighing wind, then we can consider ourselves more than fortunate. Tell us of your journey across Narsindal, Ffyrst.'

  Urthryn shrugged. ‘There's little to tell,’ he said. ‘It was less disturbing than our journey along the Pass. Yengar and Olvric guided us. Oslang twitched his nose in search of demons.’ He winked at the Cadwanwr. ‘That's when he wasn't slithering out of his saddle. The weather was cold and unpleasant. The horses were unhappy, and the place felt bad. Except for our last little gallop, we travelled slowly, partly in deference to our guests and partly because fear of ambush kept us in defensive order. But we met no one, nor even saw anyone, let alone faced any attack.’ He laughed again. ‘Except, of course, at the end.'

  Gulda raised her eyebrows. ‘An admirably brief account,’ she said. ‘Yengar, Olvric, have you anything to add?'

  The two Goraidin shook their heads. ‘No,’ Yengar said. ‘The place still gives me the creeps, but apart from finding the road, the whole journey was as the Ffyrst has said, uneventful.'

  'Road?’ Gulda said.

  'It was new,’ Yengar continued. ‘It wound down out of the mountains and off across the plains, but we saw no one using it. I presume it's the one that Hawklan and the others saw after they'd ridden north from Lord Evison's. The one serving the mines. It's a considerable feat of engineering, whoever built it.'

  Gulda frowned. ‘Slaves will have built it, Goraidin, slaves. It'll be a tombstone for many of them,’ she said, her frown deepening. ‘We're already far too late for many poor souls.'

  She was silent for a moment, then she turned to Oslang. ‘What did you learn, Cadwanwr?’ she asked.

  Oslang scowled and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I learned what I already knew,’ he said. ‘That I'm scarcely a horseman, let alone a Muster rider.’ His rueful manner caused some amusement, but Gulda gave him a beady look and he shrugged apologetically. ‘There's an awful presence pervading the place,’ he said, more seriously. ‘His presence, beyond a doubt. But it was ... passive ... indifferent to us, almost. As if we counted for nothing. It wasn't what I'd expected.'

  Atelon looked at him. ‘Did you use the Old Power at all?’ he asked.

  'No,’ Oslang replied. ‘I would have done had need arisen. We were prepared all the time for sudden attacks and for Dan-Tor to come riding out to meet us, but to be honest I was too afraid to use it unnecessarily.'

  Atelon nodded understandingly and sank back into his chair.

  The discussion moved on to practical matters.

  'We need to find out where Oklar has gone,’ Arinndier said. ‘If he's lurking somewhere in the west, he could move in behind us, cut off our lines of supply, and attack us in the rear.'

  'Or move down into Fyorlund and Orthlund while we're wandering round in the mists,’ Hreldar said.

  Other voices began to speak.

  Loman raised his hand for silence hastily. ‘My friends,’ he said. ‘There are endless alternatives that our enemy might adopt and all of them are beyond our calculating at this stage. It seems that He's quite willing for us to move into Narsindal, but whether it's to surround us, wear us down by fighting a defensive war, face us in one set piece action, by-pass us and attack the lands to the south...’ He held out his arms. ‘How can we possibly know?'

  He leaned forward. ‘Hawklan's advice was that we be open and straightforward, because we can't begin to oppose Sumeral, the arch-schemer, with cunning and craft. We must not look to fight Him with weapons which are so much His own.'

  'We can't not debate what might happen,’ Eldric said. ‘We must have contingency plans prepared.'

  'Of course,’ Loman said. ‘But our intention here is to march on Derras Ustramel and destroy both it and its occupant and anyone else who chooses to fight at His side. A straight thrust at our enemy's heart. We must have that foremost in our minds at all times.’ Eldric looked anxious.

  Loman turned to Urthryn. ‘Ffyrst, Sylvriss tells me that she's set squadrons to patrolling the Pass. Can your people hold it against a large army?'

  Urthryn pursed his lips. ‘I see no reason why not,’ he said. ‘Though if any of the Uhriel attacked also...'

  'The Cadwanol have laid many defences along the Pass of late,’ Oslang said. ‘It's better protected from the Uhriel than we are here.'

  'Then is Riddin as safe as it can be made?’ Loman asked.

  The two men nodded, though uneasily, and Loman turned back to Eldric. ‘Can a large army move into Fyorlund over the mountains, Lord?'

  'You moved over the mountains into Riddin when need arose,’ Eldric replied tersely, a little put out still by Loman's apparent hastiness. ‘And Mandroc raids into the northern estates are not uncommon.'

  'Not to mention the attack on Evison's,’ Arinndier added.

  Loman let out a long breath. ‘You know your own country, Lords,’ he said patiently. ‘Let me cut through the conjecture. What is the least that must be done to prevent a large force moving through the mountains at a place of its own choosing?'

  'The repair of the Watch Hall,’ Darek declared before Eldric could speak again. ‘That at least would enable us to detect such an army. What would be needed to stop it would depend on the size, obviously.'

  'Obviously,’ Loman echoed thoughtfully. ‘Otaff, how is work on the Watch Hall proceeding?'

  Otaff was the most senior member of the Carver's Guild at the meeting. ‘We're making steady progress,’ he said. ‘And the Cadwanwr are being very helpful. To be honest I think we'd be far more use working up there now than we are here, listening to you and the others talking logistics and tactics.'

  Loman agreed and Otaff left, together with Atelon and other Orthlundyn and Cadwanwr.

  Loman turned back to Eldric. ‘If this work is done, then Fyorlund too will be as safe as we can make it,’ he said. ‘And will we have eliminated some of our more terrifying contingencies?'

  Eldric nodded. ‘It's a hasty Gathering, Loman, but yes,’ he conceded.

  Loman continued. ‘This done then, I think that we should prepare to march north as quickly as we can, and protect our rear by a string of manned forts, patrols and post-horse messengers.'

  He glanced quickly round his listeners to see what response this suggestion provoked.

  'If we're going to thrust directly for His heart then I'd rather we used the army as a spear that we can withdraw than an arrow which we can fire only once,’ said Darek. ‘But I foresee a problem in manning all these forts. Leaving a duty garrison here, and who knows how many companies spread out across a hostile countryside in forts may leave us precious few at the front.'

  'That will need serious, detailed, thought,’ Loman conceded. ‘But whatever we decide now, we can change our dispositions as the Goraidin and Helyadin obtain information about the enemy's strength.'

  He paused and looked round at his audience again, then he stood up and began walking among them. ‘I know we have a massive army here but, for what it's worth, I have a feeling that we'll find ourselves heavily outnumbered whatever form this conflict eventually takes. I think we must accept that now, and remember that numbers alone are not necessarily critical.’ He paused briefly. ‘Even with a cavalry force that was far too small, tactics and discipline gave us the greater part of the day against the far more numerous Morlider. Equally importantly, they brought us away with virtually no casualti
es.’ He tapped out his conclusion on the pate of a carved eagle that decorated one of the chairs. ‘And, all things being equal, it will be tactics and discipline that give us victory, not numbers.'

  'But will they be equal?’ someone said, amid the sage head nodding that greeted this remark. The speaker was Urthryn's adviser, Hiron, and his question voiced a recurrent doubt. ‘The Cadwanwr can perhaps bind the Uhriel, but who will bind Him, Loman? Can we be certain that Hawklan and the others will find and waken Ethriss in time?'

  Loman turned to him. ‘No,’ he said, simply, and without hesitation. ‘But it makes no difference to what we must do. If Ethriss is there, then he'll assail Sumeral in whatever manner such beings assail one another; the Cadwanwr will resist the Uhriel; and we'll pit ourselves against whatever mortal army He's collected about Him. And we must all prevail. If Ethriss is not there, then we and the Cadwanwr will hold as long as we can, and do what hurt we can, in the hope that, as in times past, it may stem His advance and give others, elsewhere in the world, a chance to prepare to face Him.’ He bent close to Hiron. ‘We have no other choice,’ he said slowly, looking at him intently. ‘For reasons beyond us, the creature is risen and come to great strength. He's brought death to all our lands already, and beyond—the Drienvolk, the Morlider. If He's not opposed now, then He'll return again, again and again, to corrupt and destroy all of us, one way or another.'

  Hiron looked away from the stern gaze in reluctant acceptance. It was a necessary question that he had asked, but it was the last time that the need to prosecute the war was mentioned amongst the leaders of the three nations and the Cadwanwr.

  Two days later, Otaff and Atelon declared that the Watch Hall had been repaired as well as it could be under the circumstances, and the Fyordyn pronounced the work excellent. There were areas which were still beyond the reach of the tower's injured vision but, to much delight, there were also areas that could be seen more clearly than ever before.

  The various officers of the army and the Muster spent much of the time learning about one another's forces and discussing tactics. Such rivalry as there was, was for the most part good-natured and drew them together.