Brother Corwin started into the river, modesty demanding that he keep his habit on, though he did cinch it up around his waist. In spite of his portly build he was still strong enough to help two of the wounded, aided by young Richard.
Gregory was still on the far shore, fully clothed, bow out. A crow rose up from a tree on the far bank squawking loudly. Tinuva saw Gregory tense.
‘They’re here,’ Tinuva hissed.
Dennis was at his side at once, tossing over a bow and quiver and Tinuva bent the weapon, notching the string which he had carefully wrapped up inside an oiled cloth before the crossing.
The last of the men were in mid-stream. Gregory suddenly cut the rope secured to the tree on his side of the river then sprinted for the water and dived in, still holding his bow. Surfacing, he started across, half-swimming, half-running clumsily through the chest-deep water.
Tinuva saw a flicker of reflected light, which resolved itself as a mounted man, burnished shield strapped to his left shoulder. Without hesitation, he drew and fired a shaft at the glint. Even if he didn’t hit the target, he might hold the man away from the shore for an extra second or two, gaining those still in the water a safe crossing.
Another man, this one a mounted archer, came out of the woods, bow drawn, aiming at Gregory.
Tinuva raised his own weapon again, but this time he didn’t fire as soon as the bow was fully drawn. He hesitated, feeling the breeze on his cheek, judging the range and the drift of the arrow, and then released. The mounted archer fired first. Gregory dived down and the shaft struck the spot where he had disappeared. Then Tinuva’s arrow streaked in, hitting the rider’s horse and the animal reared up, screaming with pain.
More riders emerged, spreading out along the river bank. Gregory was at mid-stream now, up with Brother Corwin, urging him on, arrows hissing about their ears. A crossbow bolt struck one of the wounded in the back and with a cry he collapsed. Richard tried to grab the fallen man but Gregory pushed him on, pulling Richard under as another bolt snaked in.
Dennis’s most experienced archers positioned themselves along the river bank next to Tinuva, carefully took aim, and shot their bow-shafts high in the air.
With the rope on the far shore cut away, the men in the middle of the stream were gradually being swept down by the current. A Tsurani let go, disappearing into the torrent. Asayaga jumped into the river and started to wade back out and Dennis, cursing angrily, followed him in.
Together they reached Corwin, Richard, Gregory and several of the others. Another went under hit by a crossbow bolt.
Stepping into a hole, Dennis suddenly disappeared. Tinuva, who had been taking careful aim on what he suspected was one of the human leaders on the far shore, lowered his bow, ready to go into the water yet again. Cries of alarm rose up and half a dozen men jumped into the icy torrent, ready to flounder back out.
Dennis finally surfaced, held up by Asayaga, and the two regained the shore. His bow gone, Gregory, cursing and gasping, hauled in the priest and Richard.
Asayaga pushed Dennis up the embankment even as the Tsurani swarmed around their leader.
Looking around, Dennis cursed wearily, then half-crawled back up the icy slope.
‘Noble gesture,’ Tinuva offered.
Dennis held up a hand to silence him. ‘Not another word,’ he gasped, teeth chattering. He shouldered his way past Tinuva to stand by the fire.
A dozen mounted men were on the far shore, several of them venturing long shots, but the wind was brisk and the arrows arced down harmlessly. Taunts echoed back and forth across the river as the two sides glared at each other, unable to come to blows.
More fires had sprung up, and knots of men stood around them, stamping their feet, dressing, wolfing down hunks of barely-cooked meat.
Gregory, clothes steaming, came up to join his friend. ‘I had that bow for nearly half a score of years. I’ll miss it.’
‘For that you saved the priest.’
‘I know. It still needs to be proven if it was a fair exchange.’
Tinuva looked at him quizzically.
‘Nothing yet. Just wondering, that’s all.’
‘He’s proven his value so far.’
‘I know.’
Gregory nodded to the far shore.
‘It’ll take them an hour to get back to the main column. Two hours, more like three, to reach the bridge and then another couple hours to here. We leave a dozen archers to hold here, just in case they are crazy enough to try and rush across. I think we can get this lot moving in an hour or so.’
‘Better dry yourself out first. The temperature will drop today now that the storm is past.’
Gregory, features turning blue, nodded and returned to the fire.
One of the riders had already turned about and disappeared back into the woods. The others drew back to the edge of the wood line and dismounted, and within minutes a fire had sprung to life.
He saw Asayaga standing by the fire, shivering violently, hands extended to the heat. Tinuva went to the second fire where the venison was charring in the flames, poked out a piece with a stick and went back to the Tsurani leader and offered him the meat, which he accepted without comment.
‘Why did you do it?’
‘I thought it was someone else, one of my men.’
Tinuva chuckled softly.
‘Hard to mistake Hartraft for one of yours.’
‘It was a mistake, I tell you.’
‘A mistake to save him or a mistake in knowing who you were saving?’
Asayaga took a bite of half-cooked venison. ‘He hates me.’
‘Do you hate him?’
‘It is my duty to kill him. And yes, he has been a thorn in our side for years. Killing him would bring honour to my clan.’
‘Would you have let him drown?’
Asayaga hesitated.
‘Would you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘When I kill him, I want it to be a fight of honour. Letting him drown would not bring honour to either of us. And it would be a waste. He’s right. We need every sword if we are to survive.’
‘Know this, Asayaga: Dennis is a brilliant warrior, among the finest of your race I think I have ever known. He, too, has honour, though perhaps not as your people define it. I think he would have done the same for you. In fact it will rankle with him now because he owes you a blood debt.’ Tinuva chuckled softly. ‘You’ve presented him with a paradox. In order to kill you he first must settle the blood debt of life.’
‘There is nothing funny about it.’
Gregory approached them. ‘Funny about what?’ he asked.
‘Dennis owes Asayaga his life, but wants to kill him.’
Gregory nodded, then observed, ‘Elven-kind see the world slightly differently than we do.’
‘Yes, there is much in this that is grim,’ observed the elf. ‘Yet, nevertheless I see humour in it. Your human gods love to present you with such riddles and challenges, or so it has seemed to me for most of my life. Long have I known humans like Gregory and I have even visited a human city, yet there are times when I wonder at the complexities of your thinking. You often seem to prefer difficult choices when simple alternatives are available; it is a constant source of amazement to my kind.’ He glanced over to where Dennis stood. ‘It will be interesting to see how the two of you solve this dilemma.’
Asayaga grunted, obviously not seeing anything of humour in the situation.
Dennis came up to join them, munching on a piece of meat. He tossed a stick with another piece of meat on it to Tinuva. He offered none to Asayaga.
‘We rest here for an hour to dry out, warm up and eat. Tinuva, I’ll detail off some men, half a dozen, to stay behind here with you. I expect the Tsurani to leave a half dozen as well. That should dissuade them from trying to make a rush.’
‘I will not take orders from you, Hartraft.’
‘Fine then. Call it another of my bloody suggestions, Tsurani.’
‘And then what?’
Dennis smiled and pointed to the next range of mountains to the north. ‘We head up there, lose the bastards, then settle our differences.’
Without waiting for a reply he walked away.
‘A hateful man,’ Asayaga snapped and Tinuva could sense that the Tsurani had expected some sort of ritual to be played out, a formal exchange of acknowledgment of blood debt. He could tell, however, that Hartraft was uncomfortable with the entire incident and just wanted it dropped.
‘War does that,’ Tinuva replied finally.
‘Does what?’
‘It makes all of us hateful.’ As he said the words he gazed intently at the far side of the river.
After a moment, Asayaga left to see to his men.
When they were alone, Gregory said, ‘What is it?’
Tinuva knew what the question meant. Gregory understood his people well enough to know that sooner or later Tinuva would tell him what it was that had bothered him since the ambush. Quietly, Tinuva said, ‘Of those the Tsurani and I ambushed, one was Kavala.’
Gregory swore. ‘That means…’
Softly, Tinuva said, ‘Bovai is near.’
Gregory said, ‘Another of the gods’ riddles and challenges?’ He shook his head. For a human, he could mask his expression almost as well as an elf, yet to Tinuva, his distress was obvious.
‘Hardly,’ said Tinuva. ‘A cruel fate, perhaps.’
‘What will you do?’
Tinuva said, ‘I will serve, and do what I can to help Dennis, you, and the Tsurani, survive. But if the chance comes to end this…blood debt, then I will take it.’
Gregory nodded. He knew what few humans knew of the truth behind the relationship between the eledhel and the moredhel, and specifically between Tinuva and Bovai, and he would not speak of it to anyone without Tinuva’s permission.
Finally, he said, ‘Best not to let Dennis know about this until it is impossible to hide it. If he knew Bovai was there, he might just linger long enough to force a confrontation.’
Tinuva’s mouth turned slightly upward, an open expression of humour. ‘Dennis owes Bovai a blood debt, but he has more sense than that.’
Chuckling, Gregory said, ‘I hope you’re right.’ He turned towards the fire and said again, ‘I’m going to miss that bow.’
Looking at the fatigued men around the fire, Tinuva remarked, ‘There will be extra weapons, soon enough.’
Gregory needed no explanation–he knew many of these men would be dead within days–and nodded once, then walked away, leaving the elf to his own thoughts.
Staring across the river, where the human mercenaries stood watching, judging what to do next, Tinuva wondered how long he would wait before seeking out Bovai.
Lost in his reverie he almost didn’t notice the first command for the men to get ready to move out; then, sensing movement behind him as the activity in the camp quickened, he took one last look across the river, then turned and moved back towards the others.
EIGHT Decisions
Twilight was deepening.
Dennis Hartraft turned away from the knot of soldiers, throwing up his hands in exasperation. ‘You are all crazy,’ he snapped angrily, looking back over his shoulder. ‘Stopping now is madness.’ He pointed to the pass in the next range of mountains, still ten miles away. ‘Once over the Teeth of the World, we’re in the clear. Then we rest.’
‘And not one man in ten will make it that far,’ Brother Corwin interjected. ‘I suspect it’s because neither you nor the Tsurani will admit in front of the other that you have to stop. This chase has been going on for three days. There’s barely a man left who can fight, let alone march another mile.’
‘Brother, I didn’t know you were part of this council of war,’ Dennis retorted. ‘It’s for any man who fights and wishes a fair say.’
‘But I’ll be heard nevertheless,’ the monk snapped back without hesitation. ‘Give these men a rest.’
Dennis, hands on his hips, stepped back into the circle of men. He caught the eye of Asayaga who was softly whispering, translating the conversation to the men of his command.
‘The Tsurani here don’t have councils of war,’ Dennis replied. ‘Their commander says go, and they go. I’m willing to bet they are ready to go over that mountain tonight and be clear of pursuit once and for all. You men called for a council and I must accept that, but I am telling you that to stop for rest now is madness.’
Asayaga, even as he translated, looked straight at Dennis without comment.
‘Will you have it said that those–’ the word ‘bastard’ almost slipped out but he held it ‘–these enemies of the Kingdom can do something we cannot do?’
Dennis’s voice started off at a low pitch. ‘I know it is our custom to ask for a council of war–’ his voice started to rise ‘–the lowest in my command can ask for one if there is a serious question of my orders, but that is not the case in a time of crisis, or in the middle of a fight!’ He ended on a shout.
‘I see neither a fight, nor a crisis,’ Corwin replied calmly. ‘We’ve outrun pursuit. It’s getting on to dusk. We have a clear view back across twenty miles and see nothing behind us.’ He pointed back across the plains and low rolling hills which the men had wearily traversed. From their elevated position in the foothills, someone with a sharp enough eye could see clear back to the river they had forded that morning. Nothing moved upon it except for a few stags, the does that followed them, and a distant band of wolves.
‘They can still flank along these mountains,’ Dennis replied, pointing eastward to the forest-clad slopes which they had been approaching all afternoon.
‘Someone would have to come behind us to where we crossed the river,’ the monk argued, ‘to make sure they picked up our trail. We haven’t seen anyone behind us all afternoon.’
‘So, you are a master of woodcraft and field tactics as well?’ Dennis asked
‘No, just a man who’s spent a lot of time outdoors, and who knows how to apply logic; and logic demands that we rest. The ground ahead looks good: plenty of fir trees for fuel and making rough shelters, and game signs all around. Just rest tonight, then tomorrow we can push on. If you try a night march now, you won’t have twenty men left come dawn.’
Dennis turned away from the priest, his gaze slowly sweeping the ranks of the men gathered round him. Then, for a brief instant an image flashed through his mind. He glanced back at the priest, and the image faded.
Corwin saw Dennis examining him and said, ‘What?’
Dennis was silent for a moment, then, ‘Nothing,’ he said.
He looked at his men and saw precious little support amongst them. The priest was right, they were played out: fording the river had sapped the last of their strength and the forced march of the afternoon had been a final lunge of desperation. All were on the verge of collapse.
He shifted his gaze to Asayaga. It was hard to read the strange blankness the Tsurani could assume when they desired. He wondered if Asayaga was in agreement, or was filled with contempt for the weakness of his enemy.
‘Rest would be good,’ Asayaga ventured. ‘Some have marched sixty of your miles or more without sleep for two days. Half my men will die before morning from the freezing sickness.’
Dennis was startled by the admission. He looked over at Tinuva and Gregory.
‘My friend,’ Gregory said softly, ‘there are times when you forget that few can equal your endurance; it is your only fault as a leader.’
‘But you would agree they might be close?’
Tinuva stood up and stepped away from the circle to the edge of the knoll where they had stopped for the meeting. All were silent as he carefully scanned the distant horizon, then raised his head, nostrils flaring as if smelling the cold wind.
‘I’ve not walked this land in years,’ he sighed, turning to look back at the expectant group. ‘I’ve lost touch with its rhythms, its heart beat, the feel of its wind, the scent of the soil and the thing
s that grow here.’ He paused. ‘I can tell you though that we are the first to disturb this place since the snows began to fall. But that does not mean we will be alone for long. I know who is pursuing us now, and that makes me cautious of lingering here.’
Several of Dennis’s men asked him to explain, to say who was in pursuit but he would not answer. He slowly walked among the men, his searching glance assessing each of them in turn. He paused for a moment before Corwin, gazing deep into his eyes, then turned away.
‘The brown robe is right, however. We try to march for another night and many will fall.’ He turned and looked back at the knot of Tsurani gathered behind Asayaga. ‘Especially with you,’ Tinuva continued, speaking now in Tsurani. ‘The ice, the cold is alien to you. You, Asayaga, know that, even if your pride would have you march with us until the last of you collapsed into silent death.’
Asayaga, startled by the elf’s skill in speaking Tsurani, simply nodded.
‘The temperature will drop tonight now that the worst of the storm has passed. Come dawn it will be far colder.’ As he spoke Tinuva turned back to Dennis, again speaking the King’s tongue. ‘Ice can kill as surely as an arrow or blade. Though I fear that we have yet to lose our foes, we must stop. Let us enter the forest ahead, dig in there before dark, build fires, make what shelter we can but we stay alert. That is what I suggest.’
Dennis sighed and slowly extended his hands in a gesture of submission. ‘So be it then if that is what all of you wish.’
Murmurs of agreement and relief swept through the ranks and the group broke apart, slowly streaming up the hill and into the forest. Dennis insisted on pushing them another half a mile until he found ground to his liking, a steep overhanging cliff that blocked the north wind which was ringed with ancient firs.
His men knew their assignments: a half dozen of the best stalkers and archers set out to hunt for game, another half dozen were detailed to spread out and stand watch while the others hurriedly started to gather in wood for fires.
Asayaga approached Dennis, vainly struggling to control the shivering of his muscles and the chattering of his teeth that had troubled him ever since the river crossing.
Legends of the Riftwar Page 15
