“Murmandamus.
I just mentioned that name and you would have thought someone had
stuck a branch in a hornets’ nest. They have lost much lore,
but that is one name they remember. There is no doubt we have found
the descendants of the glamredhel here. I judge about three or four
hundred in the immediate area from the number of those in council.
There are more living in distant communities, enough that it doesn’t
pay for anyone to bother them in any event.”
“Will they
help with the fight?” asked Guy.
Galain shook his
head. “I don’t know. Earanorn is a sly one. If he should
bring his people to Elvandar they’d be welcomed but not
entirely trusted. There’s too much of the savage about them. It
would be years before anyone was comfortable. He also knows that in
the council of the true Elf Queen, he would be only a minor member,
as he is not even a Spellweaver. He would be included, as a gesture
to his people and also because he is among the oldest of the elves
living in the Edder Forest. But, here he is a king, a poor king, but
still a king. No, this will not be an easy or simple problem. But,
that is the sort of question we elves are willing to spend years in
pondering. I’ve given Earanorn clear instructions on the way to
Elvandar, so that should his people wish to return to our mother
forest, they may. They will come or not as pleases them, while for
now we must make for Highcastle.”
Arutha rose and
said, “Good; at least we have one less problem.”
Jimmy followed
Arutha toward the horses and said to Locklear, “As if the ones
we have left are such piddly little things.”
Amos laughed and
clapped the boys on the shoulders.
The horses were
at their limit, for Arutha and his companions had been riding them
hard for almost a week. The tired animals were footsore and slow, and
Arutha knew they had only just managed to stay ahead of the invaders.
The day before, they had spotted smoke behind them, as Murmandamus’s
advanced scouts had made camp at day’s end. This lack of
caution at being spotted showed their contempt for the garrison
between them and the Kingdom.
Cutter’s
Gap was at the south end of a wide valley, running through the Teeth
of the World, rock-strewn and densely grown with brush for most of
its length. Then it cleared, with no vestige of cover. Only scorched
ground could be seen. Jimmy and Locklear glanced about, and Guy
observed, “We have reached the limit of Highcastle’s
patrols. He probably has a burn here every year, to keep the area
uncovered so no one can approach undetected.”
As the sixth day
since their leaving the Edder Forests was drawing to a close, the
valley began to narrow and they entered the gap. Arutha slowed his
horse as he looked about, softly observing, “Remember Roald
saying that thirty mercenaries held back two hundred goblins here?”
Jimmy nodded,
thinking of the fun-loving mercenary. They rode into the gap in
silence.
“Halt and
identify yourselves!” came the cry from the rocks above.
Arutha and the
others reined in and waited while the speaker revealed himself. A man
stepped out from behind a rock above on the rim of the gap, a man
wearing a white tabard with a red stone tor depicted upon it, still
clear in the twilight of evening. A company of riders appeared from
down the narrow canyon while bowmen rose up on all sides above.
Arutha, slowly
raised his hands. “I am Arutha, Prince of Krondor.”
There were
several laughs and the officer in charge said, “And I’m
your brother, the King. Nice and bold, renegade, but the Prince of
Krondor lies dead in his family’s vault in Rillanon. If you’d
not been running weapons to the goblins you’d have heard.”
Arutha shouted
back, “Get me to Brian Highcastle.”
The leader of
the horsemen rode up next to the Prince and said, “Put your
hands behind you, there’s a good lad.”
Arutha removed
his right gauntlet, and held out his signet. The man studied it, then
shouted, “Captain! Have you seen the Royal Seal of Krondor?”
“An eagle
flying over a mountain peak.”
“Well,
whether he’s the Prince or not, he’s wearing the ring.”
Then the man looked at the others. “And he’s got an elf
with him, too.”
“An elf?
You mean a Dark Brother.”
The soldier
looked confused. “You’d better come down here, sir.”
He said to Arutha, “We’ll get this straight in a minute .
. . Your Highness,” he added in a soft voice, just in case.
The captain took
several minutes to reach the floor of the gap, then came to stand
next to Arutha. He studied the Prince’s face. “It’s
a good likeness, I’ll warrant, but the Prince never wore no
beard.”
Then Guy said,
“As thick-headed as you are, it’s no wonder Armand sent
you to Highcastle, Walter of Gyldenholt.”
The man regarded
Guy for a long moment, then said, “Bloody hell! It’s the
Duke of Bas-Tyra!”
“And this
is the Prince of Krondor.”
The man called
Walter kept looking back and forth; he said, “But you’re
dead, or at least that’s what the royal proclamation said.”
He turned to Guy. “And it’s your head to return to the
Kingdom, Your Grace.”
Arutha said,
“Get us to Brian and we’ll straighten this out. His Grace
is under my protection, as are these others. Now, can we stop this
foolishness and ride on. There’s an army of Dark Brothers and
goblins a day or so behind us, and we think Brian would appreciate
hearing about it.”
Walter of
Gyldenholt motioned for the man who led the company to turn around.
“Take them to Lord Highcastle. And when it’s all sorted
out, come back and tell me just what the bloody hell is going on.”
Arutha put down
the razor. He ran his hand over his again clean face and said, “So
we left the elves and rode straight here.”
Brian, Lord
Highcastle, commander of the detachment at Cutter’s Gap, said,
“An incredible tale, Highness. Were I not seeing you here with
my own eyes, with du Bas-Tyra sitting there, I’d not have
believed a word. The Kingdom thinks you dead. We had a day of
memorial in your honour at the King’s request.” He sat
observing the weary travellers as they cleaned up and ate, in the
barracks room he had given over to Arutha and his companions. The old
commander was stiff in posture, as if he were constantly at
attention. He looked more a parade ground soldier than a frontier
commander.
Amos, who was
busy gulping a flagon of wine, laughed. “If you’re going
to have one of those, it’s best to do it before you’re
dead so you can enjoy it. Shame you missed it, Arutha.”
Guy said, “Have
you many of my men with you?”
Highcastle said,
“Most of your officers were sent to Ironpass and Northwarden,
but we’ve two of your better ones here: Baldwin de la Troville,
and Anthony du Masigny. And a few remain at Bas-Tyra. Guiles
Martine-Reems rules in your city now, as Baron du Corvis.”
Guy said, “He’d
like to be Duke, no doubt.”
Arutha said,
“Brian, I’d like to evacuate back to Sethanon. That’s
Murmandamus’s obvious target and the city could benefit from
your soldiers here. This position is untenable.”
Highcastle said
nothing for a long moment, then said, “No, Highness.”
Amos said, “Say
no to the Prince? Ha!”
The Baron cast a
sidelong glance toward Amos, then said to Arutha, “You know my
charter and charge. I am vassal to your brother, no one else. I am
given the security of this pass. I will not abandon it.”
“My gods,
man!” said Guy. “Will you not take our word? An army of
more than thirty thousand is marching and you’ve what, one, two
thousand soldiers spread over hills from halfway to Northwarden to
halfway to Tyr-Sog. He’ll overrun you in a half day!”
“So you
say, Guy. I have no firsthand knowledge that what you say is true.”
Arutha was
stunned, while Amos said, “Now you’re calling the Prince
a liar!”
Brian ignored
Amos. “I have no doubt you’ve seen some heavy
concentration of Dark Brothers up north, but thirty thousand seems
unlikely. We’ve been dealing with them for years and our best
intelligence is that there couldn’t be any force of them larger
than two thousand in the field under one commander. We can easily
handle that many from this position.”
Guy spoke in
controlled fury. “Have you been daydreaming while Arutha’s
been speaking, Brian? Didn’t he tell you we lost a city with a
sixty-foot-high wall, approachable from only one side, defended by
seven thousand battle-tested soldiers under my command!”
“And who
has long been recognized as the finest military mind in the Kingdom?”
asked Arutha.
Highcastle said,
“I know of your reputation, Guy, and against Kesh you’ve
performed well. But we Border Lords face unusual situations as a
matter of course. I’m sure we can deal with these Dark
Brothers.” The Baron pushed himself away from the table and
moved toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have
my duties to see to. You may continue to rest here as long as you
wish, but remember, here I am the supreme commander until the King
decides otherwise. Now I judge you all need rest. Please feel free to
dine with my officers and myself, in two hours. I’ll send a
guard to wake you.”
Arutha sat down
at the table. After Highcastle had left, Amos said, “The man’s
an idiot.”
Guy leaned
forward, chin in hand. “No, Brian’s just doing his duty
as he sees fit. Unfortunately, he’s no general. His patent came
from Rodric, as something of a joke. He’s a southerner, a court
noble with no prior battle training. And he’s had little
trouble with the goblins up here.”
“He came
to Crydee once when I was a boy,” said Arutha. “I thought
him a dashing fellow. The Border Lords.” The last was said with
bitter humour.
“He’ll
do as he wishes,” said Guy. “And he’s had mostly
trouble-makers like Walter of Gyldenholt sent to his service. Armand
sent him here five years ago for stealing from the company treasury.
He had been a senior Knight-Lieutenant before that.
“But,”
added Guy, “because of politics, some good men are here as
well. Baldwin de la Troville and Anthony du Masigny are both
first-rate officers. They had the misfortune to be loyal to me. I’m
sure it was Caldric who suggested to Lyam they be sent to the
border.”
Amos said,
“Still, what good? Do you propose we incite a mutiny?”
Guy said, “No,
but at least when the butchering begins, the garrison will die under
some competent officers along with the fools.”
Arutha leaned
back in a chair, feeling fatigue course through his body. He knew
they must do something soon, but what? His mind spun with confusion,
and he knew it was dulled by lack of sleep and by tension. No one in
the room spoke. After a moment Locklear rose and made his way to one
of the bunks and lay down. Without words to the others, he was
quickly asleep.
Amos said,
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in weeks.”
He made his way to another bunk and, with a deep groan of
satisfaction, settled into the soft embrace of the down comforter. “I
will see you at supper.” The others followed his example.
Soon all were
asleep except Arutha, who tossed and turned, his mind visited by
visions of hosts of goblins and moredhel overrunning his nation,
killing and burning. His eyes refused to stay closed, and at last he
sat up, a cold sweat upon his body. He glanced about and saw the
others were all slumbering. He lay back and waited for sleep to come,
but he was still awake when the call for supper came.
M
acros
opened his eyes.
The sorcerer had
entered a trance within minutes of discovering they were in the time
trap, and had been motionless since. After watching him for several
hours, Pug and Tomas had grown bored and turned their attentions to
other matters. They had tried to discover all they could about the
Garden, but as it was a mixture of alien plant and animal life, much
of what they saw was difficult to understand. After what seemed days
of exploration, the sorcerer hadn’t stirred and they had
resigned themselves to waiting.
“I think
I’ve thought of a solution,” Macros said, stretching.
“How long have I been in trance?”
Tomas, who sat
nearby on a large rock, said, “I estimate about a week.”
Pug moved from
where he had been observing, at Ryath’s side, and said, “Or
it could be more. It’s hard to tell.”
Macros blinked
and stood up. “Moving through time backwards does make it
somewhat academic, I’ll admit. But I had no idea I’d been
contemplating so long.”
Pug said, “You
haven’t given us much idea of what is going on here. I tried
several things to discover what is occurring about us, and have only
gained a little notion of how this time trap works.”
“What have
you learned about the trap?”
Pug’s brow
furrowed. “It appears the spell was designed to reverse time in
a field about us. As long as we’re in that field, we are
subject to its effect and cannot change it. We’re carried along
with the Garden, moving at a leisurely pace backward through the
timestream.” Frustration showed clearly in his tone. “Macros,
we’ve plenty of fruit and nuts, but Ryath is hungry. She has
managed to get by on some of the small game around here, and even has
managed to eat some nuts, but she can’t go on this way much
longer. Within a short time she’ll have hunted out the game,
and then she’ll begin to starve.”
Macros looked
over to where the golden dragon lay in a doze, to conserve energy.
“Well, we must get out of here, then, by all means.”
“How?”
said Tomas.
“It will
be difficult, but I expect you two will be up to it.” He
managed to smile, returning to something of the confidence he had
exuded when both had known him before. “Any trap has some
weakness. Even something as simple as a rock dropped from above has a
design flaw: it can miss. I think I’ve found the flaw in this
trap.”