It seemed that I could hardly remember a time when there had not
been war, so quickly does a man become used to a state of constant
alarm, peril, and hardship. When the news of the invasion came, my
father made ready to march southward at the summons of those most
beset. But before he could ride, he thought better of it for two
reasons. He still believed that Ulmsport was now one of the goals
of the enemy fleet, and he was not well. He had taken a rheum that
did not leave him, and was subject to bouts of fever and chills
that were not for an armsman in the field.
Thus it was that I led those who marched under the gryphon
banner when we went to the aid of our kinsmen. Jago pled to ride
with me, but his old hurt was not such as would allow it, and I
went with Marshal Yrugo.
My half-brother and Rogear had returned to the dale of my
mother's kin, as their true allegiance was to the lord there. I was
not sorry to see them ride before I left. While there had never
been an open break, nor had Hlymer, after the first few days of my
coming to Ulmsdale, sought to provoke me, yet I remained uneasy in
their company, knowing they were no friends.
In fact I had lain but little in Ulmskeep in those days; rather
moving about the dale, staying in Ulmsport, collecting information
for my father while he was confined to his bed. And in this I
served two purposes: not only to act as his eyes and ears, but to
learn more of this land and its people where, if fortune favored, I
would some day govern.
At first I was met by covert hostility, even a degree of fear,
and I knew Jago's warnings had deep roots; the rumors of my
strangeness had been used to cause a stir. But those who saw me
during my casting up and down the dale, who reported to me, or took
my orders, soon were as relaxed in my presence as they would be
with any marshal or master. Jago told me after a space that those
who had been in such contact now cried down any mutterings, saying
that anyone with two eyes in his head could see I was no different
in any manner from the next lord's heir.
My half-brother had already done some disservice to any cause he
might have wished to foster by his own defects of character. I had
marked him as a bully on our first meeting, and that he was. To his
mind no one of lesser rank had any wit or feelings and could be
safely used as a man uses a tool. No, not quite, for the expert
workman has a respect for a good tool and treats it carefully.
On the other hand Hlymer was able with weapons, and, for all his
bulk, he was an expert swordsman with great endurance. He had a
long reach, which put him to advantage over a slighter opponent
such as myself. And I do not think in those days I would have cared
to meet him in a duel.
He had a certain following within the household whom he relished
parading before me now and then. I never went out of my way to
attach any man to me, keeping to the circumspect role that I had
taken when warned by Jago. Having been reared to find my company
mainly in myself, I knew none of those small openings for
friendship that could have led to companionship. I was not feared;
nor was I loved. Always I was one apart.
I sometimes wondered during those days what my life might have
been had not the invasion come. Jago, returning from his mission to
Ithkrypt, had sought me out privately and put in my hand an
embroidered case less than the length of my palm, made to contain a
picture. He told me that my lady begged such of me in return.
Giving him my thanks, I waited until he was gone before I
slipped the wooden-backed portrait out into the light and studied
the face. I do not know what I expected — save I had hoped, perhaps
oddly, that Joisan was no great beauty. A fair face might make her
the more unhappy to come to such a one as I was after being
flattered and courted. There are certain types of beauty that
attract men even against their wills.
What I looked upon now was the countenance of a girl, unmarked
as yet, I thought, by any great sorrow or emotion, It was a thin
face, with the eyes over-large in it. And those eyes were a shade
that was neither green nor blue, but a mixture of both, unless he
who had limned that picture had erred.
I believed that he did not, for I think he had not flattered
her. She must be here as she was in life. No, she was no beauty,
yet the face was one I remembered, even when I did not look upon
it. Her hair, like my own, was darker than usual, for the dalesmen
tend to be fair and ruddy. It was the brown of certain leaves in
autumn, a brown with a red under-note.
Her face was wider at the brow than the chin, coming to a point
there, and she had not been painted smiling, but looking outward
with sober interest.
So this was Joisan. I think that holding her portrait so and
looking upon it made me realize in truth and sharply, for the first
time, that here was one to whom my life was bound and from whom I
could not escape. Still that seemed an odd way to regard this thin,
unsmiling girl — as if in some manner she threatened to curb my
freedom. The thought made me a little ashamed, so I hurriedly
slipped the picture back into its case and thrust it into my
belt-pouch to get it both out of sight and out of mind.
Jago had told me she wished one in return. Her desire was
natural. But even if I desired — which somehow I did not — to honor
her request, there was no way of doing so. I knew no one in the
dale who had the talent for limning. And somehow I did not want to
ask any questions to discover such a one. So to my lady's first
asked boon I made no reply. And in the passing days, each with a
new burden of learning or peril, I forgot it — because I wanted to,
perhaps.
But the picture remained in my pouch. Now and then I would look
upon its casing, even start to slide out the picture, yet I never
did. It was as if such looking might lead me to action I would
later regret.
By all custom Joisan herself should have come to me before the
end of the year. But custom was set aside by the rumors of war. And
the next season found me fighting in the south.
Fighting — no, I could not claim to so much! My forester
training made me no hero of battles, but rather one of those who
skulked and sniffed about the enemy's line of march, picking up
scraps of information to be fed back to our own war camp.
The early disasters, when keep after keep along the coast had
fallen to the metal monsters of Alizon, had at last battered us
into the need of making a firm alliance among ourselves. That came
very late. In the first place, the enemy, showing an ability to
farsee and outguess us that was almost as superior to ours as their
weapons were, had removed through murder several of the great
southern lords who had personal popularity enough to serve as
rallying points for our soldiers.
There were three remaining who were lucky or cautious enough to
have escaped that weeding out. They formed a council of some
authority. Thus we were able to present a more united front and we
stopped suffering defeat after defeat, but used the country as
another weapon, following the way of battle of Waste outlaws who
believe in quick strikes and retreats without losing too many of
their men.
The Year of the Fire Troll had seen the actual beginning of the
invasion. We were well into the Year of the Leopard before we had
our first small successes. Yet about those we dared not be proud.
We had lost so much more than any gain, save slamming the invaders
back into the sea again, would mean. The whole of the southern
coast was theirs, and into three ports poured ever-fresh masses of
men. It would seem, though, that their supply of such fearsome
weapons as they had used in the first assaults — those metal
monsters — was limited. Otherwise we could not have withstood them
as long as we did, or made our retreat north and west any more than
the disorganized scramble of a terrified rabble.
We took prisoners, and from some of those learned that the
weapons we had come to fear the most were not truly of Alizon at
all, but had been supplied by another people now engaged in war on
the eastern continent where Alizon lay. And the reason for the
invasion here was to prepare the way in time for these mightier
strangers.
The men of Alizon, for all their arrogance, seemed fearful of
these others whose weapons they had early used, and they threatened
us with some terrible vengeance when the strangers had finished
their own present struggle and turned their full attention on
us.
But our lords decided that a fear in the future might be
forgotten now. It was our duty to defend the dales with all we had,
and hope we could indeed drive the invaders back into the waves.
Privately I think none of us in those days was sure that we were
not living in the last hours of our kind. Still no one spoke of
surrender. For their usage of captives was such that death seemed
more friendly.
I had returned from one of my scouts when I found a messenger
from the battle leader of this portion of the country — Lord Imgry
— awaiting me with an urgent summons. Bone-weary and hungry, I took
a fresh mount and grabbed a round of dried-out journey bread,
without even a lick of cheese to soften it, to gnaw on while I
rode.
The messenger informed me that a warning of import had been
flashed overland by the torch-and-shield method, and at its coming
he had been sent to fetch me.
At least our system of placing men in the heights to use a torch
against the bright reflection of a shield to signal had in part
speeded up the alerts across country. But how I could be involved
in such a message I could not guess. At that moment I was so
achingly tired my wits were also sluggish.
Of the lords who comprised our war council, Lord Imgry was the
least approachable. He was ever aloof. Still his planning was
subtle and clever, and to him we owed most of our small successes.
His appearance mirrored what seemed to be his inner nature. His
face wore a cold expression. I do not think I ever saw him smile.
He used men as tools, but did not waste them, and his care for his
followers (as long as they served his purposes) was known. He saw
there was food for their bellies and shelter if possible, and he
shared any hardships in the field. Yet he had no close tie with
anyone in his camp, nor, I believed, with any of the other lords
either.
Imgry was respected, feared, and followed willingly by many.
That he was ever loved I could not believe.
Now, as I came into his camp, a little dizzy from lack of sleep,
long hours of riding, and too little food, I tried not to stagger
as I dismounted. It was a point of honor to face Imgry with the
same impassive front as he himself always presented under the most
harrowing conditions.
He was not as old perhaps as my father, but he was a man one
could never conceive of as having been truly young. From his cradle
he must have been scheming and planning, if not for his own
advancement (which I suspected), then for the advancement of some
situation about him. There was a fire in the landsman's rude
cottage where he had his headquarters, and he stood before it,
gazing into the flames as if there lay some scroll for his absorbed
reading.
The men of his menie were camped outside. Only his armsman sat
on a low stool polishing a battle helm with a dirty rag. A pot hung
on its chain over the flames, and from it came a scent to bring
juices into my mouth, though in other days I might have thought
such a stew poor enough fare.
He turned his head as I shut the door behind me, to regard me
with that sharp, measuring look that was one of his principal
weapons against his own kind. Tired and worn as I was, I stiffened
my will and went to meet him firmly.
"Kerovan of Ulmsdale." He did not make a question of that,
rather a statement
I raised my gloved hand in half-salute as I would to any of the
lords commanding.
"Herewith."
"You are late."
"I was on scout. I rode from camp at your message," I returned
levelly.
"So. And how went your scout?"
As tersely as I could, I told him what my handful of men and I
had seen.
"So they advance along the Calder, do they? Yes, the rivers make
them roads. But it is of Ulmsdale that I would speak. So far they
have only landed in the south. But now Jorby has fallen — "
I tried to remember where Jorby might lie. But I was so tired it
was hard to form any map picture in my mind. Jorby was port for
Vastdale.
"Vastdale?" I asked.
Lord Imgry shrugged. "If it has not yet fallen it cannot hold
out. But with Jorby in their hands they can edge farther north. And
Ulmsport is only beyond the Cape of Black Winds. If they can strike
in there and land a large enough force, they will come down from
the north and crack us like a marax shell in a cook's chopper!"
This was enough to push aside the heavy burden of my fatigue.
The force I had brought south with me was a small one, but every
man in it had been a grievous loss to Ulmsdale. And since then
there had been five deaths among our number, and three so sorely
wounded they could not raise weapons now, if ever. If the enemy
invaded at Ulmsport, I knew that my father and his people would not
retreat, but neither could they hope to hold for long against the
odds those of Alizon would throw against them. It would mean the
ruinous end of all I had known.
As he spoke, Lord Imgry took a bowl from the table, scooping
into it with a long-handled ladle some of the simmering stew. He
put the steaming bowl back on the table and made a gesture.
"Eat. You look as if you would be the better for it."
There was little grace about that invitation, but I did not
need much urging. His armsman rose and pushed his stool over for
me. On that I collapsed rather than sat, reaching for the bowl, too
hot yet to dip into, but, having shed my riding gloves, I warmed my
chilled hands by cupping them about its sides.
"I have had no news out of Ulmsdale for — " How long had it
been? One day in my mind slid into another. It seemed that I had
always been tired, hungry, cold, under the shadow of fear — and
this had gone on forever.
"It would be wise for you to ride north." Imgry had gone back to
the fire, not turning his head toward me as he spoke. "We cannot
spare you any force of men, not more than one armsman — "
It rasped my pride that he would deem me fearful of traveling
without an escort. I thought that my services as scout must have
proved that I could manage such a ride without detaching any force
save myself from his company.
"I can go alone," I said shortly. And began sipping at the stew,
drinking it from the bowl since there was no spoon offered me. It
was heartening and I relished it.
He made no protest. "Well enough. You should ride with the morn.
I shall send a messenger to your men, and you can remain here."
I spent the rest of the night wrapped in my cloak on the floor
of the house. And I did indeed ride with the first light, two
journey cakes in a travel pouch, and a fresh mount that Lord
Imgry's armsman brought to me. His lord did not bid me farewell,
nor did he leave me good-speed wishes.
The way north could not be straight, and not always could I
follow any road if I would make speed, taking mainly sheep tracks
and old cattle paths. There were times when I dismounted and led my
horse, working a way along steep dale walls.
I carried a fire touch with me and could have had a fire to warm
and brighten the nights I sheltered in some shepherd's hut, but I
did not. For this was wild country, and we had already heard rumors
that the wolves of the Waste were raiding inland, finding rich
pickings in the dales where the fighting men had gone. For my mail
and weapons, my mount, I would be target enough to draw such.
Mainly I spent the nights in dales, at keeps where I was kept
talking late by the leaders of pitiful garrisons to supply the
latest news, or in inns where the villagers were not so openly
demanding but none the less eager to hear. On the fifth day, well
after nooning, I saw the Giant's Fist, that beacon crag of my own
homedale. There were clouds overhead, and the wind was chill. I
thought it well to speed my pace. The rough traveling was wearing
on my horse, and I had been trying to favor him. But if I dropped
down to the trader's road, I would lose time now, so I kept to the
pasture trails.
Not that that saved me. They must have had their watchers in the
crags ready for me to walk into a trap. And walk into it I did,
leading my plodding horse, just at the boundaries of Ulmsdale.
There was no warning given me as there had been that other time
when death had lain in ambush. So I went to what might have been
slaughter with the helplessness of a sheep at butchering time.
The land here was made for such a deed, as I had to come along a
narrow path on the edge of a drop. My horse threw up its head and
nickered. But the alert was too late. A crashing blow between my
shoulders made me loose the reins and totter forward. Then, for a
moment of pure horror, I was falling out and down.
Darkness about me — dark and pain that ebbed and flowed with
every breath I drew. I could not think, only feel. Yet some
instinct or need to survive set me scrabbling feebly with my hands.
And that urge worked also in my darkened mind, so that even though
I could not think coherently, I was dimly aware that I was lying
face-down, my head and shoulders lower than the rest of me, jammed
in among bushes.
I believe that my fall must have ended in a slide and that those
bushes saved my life by halting my progress down to the rocks at
the foot of the drop. If my attackers were watching me from above,
they must have thought I had fallen to my death, or they certainly
would have made a way down to finish me with a handy rock.
Of such facts I was not then aware, only of my pain of body and
a dim need to better my position. I was crawling before I was
conscious of what I must do. And my struggles led to another slide
and more dark.
The second time I recovered my senses it was because of water,
ice cold with the chill of a hill spring as it washed against my
cheek. Sputtering, choking, I jerked up my head, trying to roll
away from that flood. A moment later I was head-down once more,
lapping at the water, its coldness adding to my shivering chill,
but still clearing my head, ordering my thoughts.
How long I had lain in my first fall I did not know, but it was
dark now, and that dusk was not a figment of my weakened brain I
was sure. The moon was rising, unusually bright and clear. I pulled
myself up to a sitting position.
It had not been Waste outlaws who had attacked me, or they would
have come to plunder my mail and weapons and so finished me off.
The thought awoke a horror in me. Had Lord Imgry's suggestion
already come to a terrible conclusion here? Had the invaders moved
in to occupy Ulmsdale, and had one of their scout parties met
me?
Yet that attack had so much of an ambush about it, had been
delivered in so stealthy a fashion, that I could not believe it had
been launched by the enemies I had faced in the south. No, there
was something too secret in it.
I began to explore my body for hurts and thought I was lucky
that no bones seemed to be broken. That I was badly bruised and had
a lump on my head was the worst. Perhaps my mail and the bushes in
which I had landed had protected me from worse injury. But I was
shaking from shock and chill, and found when I tried to drag myself
to my feet I could not stand, but had to drop down again, clutching
at a rocky spur to steady myself.
There was no sign of my horse. Had it been taken by those who
had thrown me over? Where were they now? The thought that they
might be searching for me made me fumble to draw sword and lay it,
bare-bladed, across my knee. I was not too far from the keep. If I
could get to my feet and get on I would reach the first of the
pasture fields. But every movement racked me so with pain that my
breath hissed between my teeth, and I had to bite down upon my
lower lip until I tasted my own blood before I could steady
myself.
I had been much-favored by fortune in escaping with my life. But
I was in no manner able to defend myself now. Therefore, until I
got back a measure of strength, I had to move slowly and with all
caution.
What I heard were the usual night sounds—birds, animals, such as
were nocturnal in their lives. There was no wind, and the night
seemed to me abnormally still, as if waiting. Waiting for what — or
whom?
Now and then I shifted position, each time testing my muscles
and limbs. At last I was able to struggle to my feet and keep that
position, in spite of the fact that the ground heaved under me. The
quiet, except for the continued murmur of the water, continued.
Surely no one could come near without revealing himself.
I essayed a step or two, planting my boots firmly on the rocking
ground, looking ahead for handholds to keep me upright. Then I saw
a wall, the moon making its stones brightly silver. Toward this I
headed and then along it, pausing ever to listen.
Soon I reached a section without cover, and there I went to my
hands and knees, creeping along the stones, still alert to all
around me.
Some distance away sheep grazed, and that peaceful sight was
reassuring. Had there been raiders in the dale, certainly this
field would have been swept bare. Or were those real sheep? The
wintertime tales of the landsmen came to mind, of phantom sheep and
cattle coming to join the real. And of how on certain nights or
misty mornings, no herder could get the same count twice of his
flock. If that were the case, then he could not, above all, return
them to the fold; for to pen the real and the phantom together was
to give the phantom power over the real.
I pushed aside such fancies and concentrated on the labor at
hand: to win the end of the field and the wall. And then to head
for the keep.
When I did reach the end of the wall I could look directly at
the keep where it stood on its spur base jutting out over the road
to Ulmsport. In the moonlight it was clear and bright, light enough
to let me see the lord's standard on its tower pole.
That did not seem to be as it should. And then, as if to make
all plain, there came a light wind from the east, lifting the edge
of what hung on the pole, pulling out to display the standard
widely if only for a long moment—but enough to let me see.
I do not know whether I uttered any sound or not. But within me
there was a cry. For only one reason would a lord's banner ever
hang at night, tattered, in such ragged strips. And that was to
signify death!
Ulmsdale's banner slashed, which meant that my father was —
I caught at the wall against the weakness that strove to bring
me to my knees.
Ulric of Ulmsdale was dead. Knowing that, I could guess, or
thought I could, why there had been an ambush set up in the hills.
They must have been expecting me. Though if my father's death had
been sent as a message, it had missed me on the way. Those who
wanted to prevent my arrival must have had men at every southern
entrance to the dale to make sure of me.
To proceed now might well be to walk into dire danger which I
was not yet prepared to face. I must make sure of my path before I
ventured along it.
It seemed that I could hardly remember a time when there had not
been war, so quickly does a man become used to a state of constant
alarm, peril, and hardship. When the news of the invasion came, my
father made ready to march southward at the summons of those most
beset. But before he could ride, he thought better of it for two
reasons. He still believed that Ulmsport was now one of the goals
of the enemy fleet, and he was not well. He had taken a rheum that
did not leave him, and was subject to bouts of fever and chills
that were not for an armsman in the field.
Thus it was that I led those who marched under the gryphon
banner when we went to the aid of our kinsmen. Jago pled to ride
with me, but his old hurt was not such as would allow it, and I
went with Marshal Yrugo.
My half-brother and Rogear had returned to the dale of my
mother's kin, as their true allegiance was to the lord there. I was
not sorry to see them ride before I left. While there had never
been an open break, nor had Hlymer, after the first few days of my
coming to Ulmsdale, sought to provoke me, yet I remained uneasy in
their company, knowing they were no friends.
In fact I had lain but little in Ulmskeep in those days; rather
moving about the dale, staying in Ulmsport, collecting information
for my father while he was confined to his bed. And in this I
served two purposes: not only to act as his eyes and ears, but to
learn more of this land and its people where, if fortune favored, I
would some day govern.
At first I was met by covert hostility, even a degree of fear,
and I knew Jago's warnings had deep roots; the rumors of my
strangeness had been used to cause a stir. But those who saw me
during my casting up and down the dale, who reported to me, or took
my orders, soon were as relaxed in my presence as they would be
with any marshal or master. Jago told me after a space that those
who had been in such contact now cried down any mutterings, saying
that anyone with two eyes in his head could see I was no different
in any manner from the next lord's heir.
My half-brother had already done some disservice to any cause he
might have wished to foster by his own defects of character. I had
marked him as a bully on our first meeting, and that he was. To his
mind no one of lesser rank had any wit or feelings and could be
safely used as a man uses a tool. No, not quite, for the expert
workman has a respect for a good tool and treats it carefully.
On the other hand Hlymer was able with weapons, and, for all his
bulk, he was an expert swordsman with great endurance. He had a
long reach, which put him to advantage over a slighter opponent
such as myself. And I do not think in those days I would have cared
to meet him in a duel.
He had a certain following within the household whom he relished
parading before me now and then. I never went out of my way to
attach any man to me, keeping to the circumspect role that I had
taken when warned by Jago. Having been reared to find my company
mainly in myself, I knew none of those small openings for
friendship that could have led to companionship. I was not feared;
nor was I loved. Always I was one apart.
I sometimes wondered during those days what my life might have
been had not the invasion come. Jago, returning from his mission to
Ithkrypt, had sought me out privately and put in my hand an
embroidered case less than the length of my palm, made to contain a
picture. He told me that my lady begged such of me in return.
Giving him my thanks, I waited until he was gone before I
slipped the wooden-backed portrait out into the light and studied
the face. I do not know what I expected — save I had hoped, perhaps
oddly, that Joisan was no great beauty. A fair face might make her
the more unhappy to come to such a one as I was after being
flattered and courted. There are certain types of beauty that
attract men even against their wills.
What I looked upon now was the countenance of a girl, unmarked
as yet, I thought, by any great sorrow or emotion, It was a thin
face, with the eyes over-large in it. And those eyes were a shade
that was neither green nor blue, but a mixture of both, unless he
who had limned that picture had erred.
I believed that he did not, for I think he had not flattered
her. She must be here as she was in life. No, she was no beauty,
yet the face was one I remembered, even when I did not look upon
it. Her hair, like my own, was darker than usual, for the dalesmen
tend to be fair and ruddy. It was the brown of certain leaves in
autumn, a brown with a red under-note.
Her face was wider at the brow than the chin, coming to a point
there, and she had not been painted smiling, but looking outward
with sober interest.
So this was Joisan. I think that holding her portrait so and
looking upon it made me realize in truth and sharply, for the first
time, that here was one to whom my life was bound and from whom I
could not escape. Still that seemed an odd way to regard this thin,
unsmiling girl — as if in some manner she threatened to curb my
freedom. The thought made me a little ashamed, so I hurriedly
slipped the picture back into its case and thrust it into my
belt-pouch to get it both out of sight and out of mind.
Jago had told me she wished one in return. Her desire was
natural. But even if I desired — which somehow I did not — to honor
her request, there was no way of doing so. I knew no one in the
dale who had the talent for limning. And somehow I did not want to
ask any questions to discover such a one. So to my lady's first
asked boon I made no reply. And in the passing days, each with a
new burden of learning or peril, I forgot it — because I wanted to,
perhaps.
But the picture remained in my pouch. Now and then I would look
upon its casing, even start to slide out the picture, yet I never
did. It was as if such looking might lead me to action I would
later regret.
By all custom Joisan herself should have come to me before the
end of the year. But custom was set aside by the rumors of war. And
the next season found me fighting in the south.
Fighting — no, I could not claim to so much! My forester
training made me no hero of battles, but rather one of those who
skulked and sniffed about the enemy's line of march, picking up
scraps of information to be fed back to our own war camp.
The early disasters, when keep after keep along the coast had
fallen to the metal monsters of Alizon, had at last battered us
into the need of making a firm alliance among ourselves. That came
very late. In the first place, the enemy, showing an ability to
farsee and outguess us that was almost as superior to ours as their
weapons were, had removed through murder several of the great
southern lords who had personal popularity enough to serve as
rallying points for our soldiers.
There were three remaining who were lucky or cautious enough to
have escaped that weeding out. They formed a council of some
authority. Thus we were able to present a more united front and we
stopped suffering defeat after defeat, but used the country as
another weapon, following the way of battle of Waste outlaws who
believe in quick strikes and retreats without losing too many of
their men.
The Year of the Fire Troll had seen the actual beginning of the
invasion. We were well into the Year of the Leopard before we had
our first small successes. Yet about those we dared not be proud.
We had lost so much more than any gain, save slamming the invaders
back into the sea again, would mean. The whole of the southern
coast was theirs, and into three ports poured ever-fresh masses of
men. It would seem, though, that their supply of such fearsome
weapons as they had used in the first assaults — those metal
monsters — was limited. Otherwise we could not have withstood them
as long as we did, or made our retreat north and west any more than
the disorganized scramble of a terrified rabble.
We took prisoners, and from some of those learned that the
weapons we had come to fear the most were not truly of Alizon at
all, but had been supplied by another people now engaged in war on
the eastern continent where Alizon lay. And the reason for the
invasion here was to prepare the way in time for these mightier
strangers.
The men of Alizon, for all their arrogance, seemed fearful of
these others whose weapons they had early used, and they threatened
us with some terrible vengeance when the strangers had finished
their own present struggle and turned their full attention on
us.
But our lords decided that a fear in the future might be
forgotten now. It was our duty to defend the dales with all we had,
and hope we could indeed drive the invaders back into the waves.
Privately I think none of us in those days was sure that we were
not living in the last hours of our kind. Still no one spoke of
surrender. For their usage of captives was such that death seemed
more friendly.
I had returned from one of my scouts when I found a messenger
from the battle leader of this portion of the country — Lord Imgry
— awaiting me with an urgent summons. Bone-weary and hungry, I took
a fresh mount and grabbed a round of dried-out journey bread,
without even a lick of cheese to soften it, to gnaw on while I
rode.
The messenger informed me that a warning of import had been
flashed overland by the torch-and-shield method, and at its coming
he had been sent to fetch me.
At least our system of placing men in the heights to use a torch
against the bright reflection of a shield to signal had in part
speeded up the alerts across country. But how I could be involved
in such a message I could not guess. At that moment I was so
achingly tired my wits were also sluggish.
Of the lords who comprised our war council, Lord Imgry was the
least approachable. He was ever aloof. Still his planning was
subtle and clever, and to him we owed most of our small successes.
His appearance mirrored what seemed to be his inner nature. His
face wore a cold expression. I do not think I ever saw him smile.
He used men as tools, but did not waste them, and his care for his
followers (as long as they served his purposes) was known. He saw
there was food for their bellies and shelter if possible, and he
shared any hardships in the field. Yet he had no close tie with
anyone in his camp, nor, I believed, with any of the other lords
either.
Imgry was respected, feared, and followed willingly by many.
That he was ever loved I could not believe.
Now, as I came into his camp, a little dizzy from lack of sleep,
long hours of riding, and too little food, I tried not to stagger
as I dismounted. It was a point of honor to face Imgry with the
same impassive front as he himself always presented under the most
harrowing conditions.
He was not as old perhaps as my father, but he was a man one
could never conceive of as having been truly young. From his cradle
he must have been scheming and planning, if not for his own
advancement (which I suspected), then for the advancement of some
situation about him. There was a fire in the landsman's rude
cottage where he had his headquarters, and he stood before it,
gazing into the flames as if there lay some scroll for his absorbed
reading.
The men of his menie were camped outside. Only his armsman sat
on a low stool polishing a battle helm with a dirty rag. A pot hung
on its chain over the flames, and from it came a scent to bring
juices into my mouth, though in other days I might have thought
such a stew poor enough fare.
He turned his head as I shut the door behind me, to regard me
with that sharp, measuring look that was one of his principal
weapons against his own kind. Tired and worn as I was, I stiffened
my will and went to meet him firmly.
"Kerovan of Ulmsdale." He did not make a question of that,
rather a statement
I raised my gloved hand in half-salute as I would to any of the
lords commanding.
"Herewith."
"You are late."
"I was on scout. I rode from camp at your message," I returned
levelly.
"So. And how went your scout?"
As tersely as I could, I told him what my handful of men and I
had seen.
"So they advance along the Calder, do they? Yes, the rivers make
them roads. But it is of Ulmsdale that I would speak. So far they
have only landed in the south. But now Jorby has fallen — "
I tried to remember where Jorby might lie. But I was so tired it
was hard to form any map picture in my mind. Jorby was port for
Vastdale.
"Vastdale?" I asked.
Lord Imgry shrugged. "If it has not yet fallen it cannot hold
out. But with Jorby in their hands they can edge farther north. And
Ulmsport is only beyond the Cape of Black Winds. If they can strike
in there and land a large enough force, they will come down from
the north and crack us like a marax shell in a cook's chopper!"
This was enough to push aside the heavy burden of my fatigue.
The force I had brought south with me was a small one, but every
man in it had been a grievous loss to Ulmsdale. And since then
there had been five deaths among our number, and three so sorely
wounded they could not raise weapons now, if ever. If the enemy
invaded at Ulmsport, I knew that my father and his people would not
retreat, but neither could they hope to hold for long against the
odds those of Alizon would throw against them. It would mean the
ruinous end of all I had known.
As he spoke, Lord Imgry took a bowl from the table, scooping
into it with a long-handled ladle some of the simmering stew. He
put the steaming bowl back on the table and made a gesture.
"Eat. You look as if you would be the better for it."
There was little grace about that invitation, but I did not
need much urging. His armsman rose and pushed his stool over for
me. On that I collapsed rather than sat, reaching for the bowl, too
hot yet to dip into, but, having shed my riding gloves, I warmed my
chilled hands by cupping them about its sides.
"I have had no news out of Ulmsdale for — " How long had it
been? One day in my mind slid into another. It seemed that I had
always been tired, hungry, cold, under the shadow of fear — and
this had gone on forever.
"It would be wise for you to ride north." Imgry had gone back to
the fire, not turning his head toward me as he spoke. "We cannot
spare you any force of men, not more than one armsman — "
It rasped my pride that he would deem me fearful of traveling
without an escort. I thought that my services as scout must have
proved that I could manage such a ride without detaching any force
save myself from his company.
"I can go alone," I said shortly. And began sipping at the stew,
drinking it from the bowl since there was no spoon offered me. It
was heartening and I relished it.
He made no protest. "Well enough. You should ride with the morn.
I shall send a messenger to your men, and you can remain here."
I spent the rest of the night wrapped in my cloak on the floor
of the house. And I did indeed ride with the first light, two
journey cakes in a travel pouch, and a fresh mount that Lord
Imgry's armsman brought to me. His lord did not bid me farewell,
nor did he leave me good-speed wishes.
The way north could not be straight, and not always could I
follow any road if I would make speed, taking mainly sheep tracks
and old cattle paths. There were times when I dismounted and led my
horse, working a way along steep dale walls.
I carried a fire touch with me and could have had a fire to warm
and brighten the nights I sheltered in some shepherd's hut, but I
did not. For this was wild country, and we had already heard rumors
that the wolves of the Waste were raiding inland, finding rich
pickings in the dales where the fighting men had gone. For my mail
and weapons, my mount, I would be target enough to draw such.
Mainly I spent the nights in dales, at keeps where I was kept
talking late by the leaders of pitiful garrisons to supply the
latest news, or in inns where the villagers were not so openly
demanding but none the less eager to hear. On the fifth day, well
after nooning, I saw the Giant's Fist, that beacon crag of my own
homedale. There were clouds overhead, and the wind was chill. I
thought it well to speed my pace. The rough traveling was wearing
on my horse, and I had been trying to favor him. But if I dropped
down to the trader's road, I would lose time now, so I kept to the
pasture trails.
Not that that saved me. They must have had their watchers in the
crags ready for me to walk into a trap. And walk into it I did,
leading my plodding horse, just at the boundaries of Ulmsdale.
There was no warning given me as there had been that other time
when death had lain in ambush. So I went to what might have been
slaughter with the helplessness of a sheep at butchering time.
The land here was made for such a deed, as I had to come along a
narrow path on the edge of a drop. My horse threw up its head and
nickered. But the alert was too late. A crashing blow between my
shoulders made me loose the reins and totter forward. Then, for a
moment of pure horror, I was falling out and down.
Darkness about me — dark and pain that ebbed and flowed with
every breath I drew. I could not think, only feel. Yet some
instinct or need to survive set me scrabbling feebly with my hands.
And that urge worked also in my darkened mind, so that even though
I could not think coherently, I was dimly aware that I was lying
face-down, my head and shoulders lower than the rest of me, jammed
in among bushes.
I believe that my fall must have ended in a slide and that those
bushes saved my life by halting my progress down to the rocks at
the foot of the drop. If my attackers were watching me from above,
they must have thought I had fallen to my death, or they certainly
would have made a way down to finish me with a handy rock.
Of such facts I was not then aware, only of my pain of body and
a dim need to better my position. I was crawling before I was
conscious of what I must do. And my struggles led to another slide
and more dark.
The second time I recovered my senses it was because of water,
ice cold with the chill of a hill spring as it washed against my
cheek. Sputtering, choking, I jerked up my head, trying to roll
away from that flood. A moment later I was head-down once more,
lapping at the water, its coldness adding to my shivering chill,
but still clearing my head, ordering my thoughts.
How long I had lain in my first fall I did not know, but it was
dark now, and that dusk was not a figment of my weakened brain I
was sure. The moon was rising, unusually bright and clear. I pulled
myself up to a sitting position.
It had not been Waste outlaws who had attacked me, or they would
have come to plunder my mail and weapons and so finished me off.
The thought awoke a horror in me. Had Lord Imgry's suggestion
already come to a terrible conclusion here? Had the invaders moved
in to occupy Ulmsdale, and had one of their scout parties met
me?
Yet that attack had so much of an ambush about it, had been
delivered in so stealthy a fashion, that I could not believe it had
been launched by the enemies I had faced in the south. No, there
was something too secret in it.
I began to explore my body for hurts and thought I was lucky
that no bones seemed to be broken. That I was badly bruised and had
a lump on my head was the worst. Perhaps my mail and the bushes in
which I had landed had protected me from worse injury. But I was
shaking from shock and chill, and found when I tried to drag myself
to my feet I could not stand, but had to drop down again, clutching
at a rocky spur to steady myself.
There was no sign of my horse. Had it been taken by those who
had thrown me over? Where were they now? The thought that they
might be searching for me made me fumble to draw sword and lay it,
bare-bladed, across my knee. I was not too far from the keep. If I
could get to my feet and get on I would reach the first of the
pasture fields. But every movement racked me so with pain that my
breath hissed between my teeth, and I had to bite down upon my
lower lip until I tasted my own blood before I could steady
myself.
I had been much-favored by fortune in escaping with my life. But
I was in no manner able to defend myself now. Therefore, until I
got back a measure of strength, I had to move slowly and with all
caution.
What I heard were the usual night sounds—birds, animals, such as
were nocturnal in their lives. There was no wind, and the night
seemed to me abnormally still, as if waiting. Waiting for what — or
whom?
Now and then I shifted position, each time testing my muscles
and limbs. At last I was able to struggle to my feet and keep that
position, in spite of the fact that the ground heaved under me. The
quiet, except for the continued murmur of the water, continued.
Surely no one could come near without revealing himself.
I essayed a step or two, planting my boots firmly on the rocking
ground, looking ahead for handholds to keep me upright. Then I saw
a wall, the moon making its stones brightly silver. Toward this I
headed and then along it, pausing ever to listen.
Soon I reached a section without cover, and there I went to my
hands and knees, creeping along the stones, still alert to all
around me.
Some distance away sheep grazed, and that peaceful sight was
reassuring. Had there been raiders in the dale, certainly this
field would have been swept bare. Or were those real sheep? The
wintertime tales of the landsmen came to mind, of phantom sheep and
cattle coming to join the real. And of how on certain nights or
misty mornings, no herder could get the same count twice of his
flock. If that were the case, then he could not, above all, return
them to the fold; for to pen the real and the phantom together was
to give the phantom power over the real.
I pushed aside such fancies and concentrated on the labor at
hand: to win the end of the field and the wall. And then to head
for the keep.
When I did reach the end of the wall I could look directly at
the keep where it stood on its spur base jutting out over the road
to Ulmsport. In the moonlight it was clear and bright, light enough
to let me see the lord's standard on its tower pole.
That did not seem to be as it should. And then, as if to make
all plain, there came a light wind from the east, lifting the edge
of what hung on the pole, pulling out to display the standard
widely if only for a long moment—but enough to let me see.
I do not know whether I uttered any sound or not. But within me
there was a cry. For only one reason would a lord's banner ever
hang at night, tattered, in such ragged strips. And that was to
signify death!
Ulmsdale's banner slashed, which meant that my father was —
I caught at the wall against the weakness that strove to bring
me to my knees.
Ulric of Ulmsdale was dead. Knowing that, I could guess, or
thought I could, why there had been an ambush set up in the hills.
They must have been expecting me. Though if my father's death had
been sent as a message, it had missed me on the way. Those who
wanted to prevent my arrival must have had men at every southern
entrance to the dale to make sure of me.
To proceed now might well be to walk into dire danger which I
was not yet prepared to face. I must make sure of my path before I
ventured along it.