The Dark Glory War (46 page)

“Thanks.”

We passed the rest of the dinner in conversations that covered subjects a bit more trivial than Princes and wars. I did take some ribbing over having an elf for a lover, but Sal told me he’d been paying court to two women in Valsina, so we moved quickly away from love lives to other subjects. He told me a lot of stories about the Scouts and their time on the road, which had me laughing. I was grateful for his tales because that meant I didn’t have to share too much of my experiences—none of which really would encourage laughter.

After dinner we parted and I returned to my room. I packed up all my equipment and had it ready to go. It took me the longest time to tie the blanket Leigh had given me into a bundle. Part of me figured I didn’t deserve it, but another part refused to leave it behind. Once I’d gotten the things all together, a porter came around to take them away. He also carried my longknives off to have new edges put on them.

From there I went to Seethe’s room and we spent the evening in luxurious abandon, as if the next morning would never come. We bathed together, then returned to her room and engaged in long, slow lovemaking by the light of a constellation of candles. Though I think we both felt some urgency, we shunted it aside and made every moment last as long as we could. I remember the golden glow of candlelight on her body, her strength as she moved against me and with me and the sweet warmth of her whispered words. Our fingers intertwined as did our bodies, and I knew that any time I held her hand I would be carried back to that night.

We woke with the dawn, dressed, ate, and joined the other members of the command company in the courtyard before the tower. Well-wishers had gathered there to see us go. Dothan Cavarre left off his study of Chytrine’s captured dragonel to bid us farewell. He gave Lord Norrington a silver flask filled with a fine brandy. To me he presented a quiver of thirty arrows with wide broadheads that had been washed in silver. “The size of the head should make killing shots on temeryces easier, I think, Hawkins. Good hunting to you.”

“Thank you.” I tied the quiver to my saddle and slipped my bow into the scabbard. I was about to haul myself into the saddle when I noticed that while my longknives hung from the belt looped over the saddle pommel, there was no sword attached to it. I frowned and was about to complain when a voice stopped me.

“Missing something, Hawkins?”

I turned and smiled as Nay walked over to me. He held out a scabbarded blade that I knew wasn’t the one I’d tossed away. I also knew it wasn’t Temmer. “What’s this?”

Nay gave me a weak grin. “Made a promise at the bridge, but never made good on it. I’ll be going back, you know, with Leigh. I have a favor to ask you. Take Tsamoc here. This blade won’t fail you.“

I accepted the sword and slid it from the scabbard slowly and a bit apprehensively. There, incorporated in the blade itself, lay the keystone that had been Tsamoc’s heart. Little lights moved through it and I knew magick resided there, but I didn’t feel the way I did when I wielded Temmer. The blade had been reinforced around the stone and I had no fears of it breaking. The crossguard and pommel repeated the keystone design in brass. Leather wrapped the hilt, and I knew the blade would stay with me even if both hands were drenched in pig fat and numb from the cold.

I resheathed the sword, and swallowed past the lump in my throat. “You take good care of Leigh, and I’ll take care of Tsamoc.”

Nay nodded. “That’s a fair bargain.” He gave me a half grin, then clapped me on the shoulders. “That night, when we first met, you were the one I figured to be the best of us. Didn’t think Leigh would end up this way. Didn’t think I’d get this far. You I figured for great things. Glad to know that judgment was right.”

I shook my head. “We have done great things, Giant-slayer, all of us. That’s what will be remembered, not me.”

Nay steadied my horse as I mounted up, then slapped me on the leg. “When you come back to Valsina, find me. Tell me how Tsamoc fared and how Chytrine died.”

“Another fair bargain.” I shook his hand, then reined my horse about and trotted him after the others exiting the courtyard. As we moved into the inner city, people cheered us from the roadside, doorways, rooftops, and windows. They cheered as if we were a conquering army returning from victory, not heading out to chase down an enemy. What struck me as even odder was that their enthusiasm mocked the black ruins of the outer city and the body-strewn fields beyond. Intoxicated with their survival, they cheered us off on a task that would result in more death.

But it is not their deaths.

I shrugged my shoulders, gave my horse a touch of spur, and rode out of Fortress Draconis at Seethe’s side. I wanted to look back, to see if Leigh stood in a window and watched us depart, but I refrained for fear of what I might see on his face. Instead I just imagined him sitting on the bridge in the tower garden, studying a riverbed that carried no water, beginning to heal.

Bards who have sung of this second expedition have immortalized the command company in countless songs. Of Lord Norrington, Seethe, Faryaah-Tse Kimp, and Prince Augustus I have written much. Winfellis, the Croquelf magicker who’d been with us from the start, also came along. The others were heroes in their own right and had not participated in our earlier adventure because they had been occupied elsewhere.

Duke Brencis Galacos had been at Fortress Draconis serving with the Jeranese Crown Guards who were just finishing their deployment when Chytrine invaded. The Crown Guards had taken heavy casualties in the first day’s fighting by the southern breach, but the white-haired warrior had pulled them back in good order and prevented the slaughter of more of his people. Bringing him along not only gave us a good tactician, but honored the sacrifice his warriors had made at the fortress.

Lady Jeturna Costasi of Viarca was something of a soldier of fortune. She had led her family’s house guard unit out against the gibberers that had made it into Viarca, much as Lord Norrington had done. She chased them north into Nybal, where she joined forces with a Nybali Warden and rode for Fortress Draconis. They hooked up with our reinforcements on the road and were ready to go after Chytrine.

Aren Asvaldget was the Nybali Warden who had ridden with Lady Jeturna. Smaller than me and lean, with long blond hair and blue eyes, Aren reminded me a lot of a wolf, and it wasn’t just because wolf pelts had been used to make his cloak. He was a shaman, which I gathered was to a Vilwanese magicker what a street-brawler was to a trained warrior. His chief asset, aside from his quick laugh, was a very good knowledge of the northlands and a lot of smarts concerning plants and healing. I saw him as taking over one of Nay’s roles in our company.

The last two members of the company often get short shrift in the songs, and I can’t say that I imagine it’s something they find discomfiting, all things considered. Drugi Oldach was a warrior from far Valsogon who had taken up residence in Fortress Draconis after a stint of hiring on there as a mercenary. From his base in the outer city he would head out north and spend much of the year trapping animals, prospecting for gold, or hunting up rare plants for drying and shipping south. He claimed to be only forty-five years old, but his white hair and leathery skin suggested to me he just couldn’t count past forty-five and had long since given up trying to learn how. He favored a double-bitted ax and had enough gibberer fur worked into his cloak and patching his clothes that I figured he knew how to use it to his advantage.

Edamis Vilkaso was a golden-haired warrior up all the way from Naliserro. She’d actually led the squad of Nalesk cavalry that charged out of the fortress and took Chytrine’s dragonel. They held it despite opposition. What prompted Lord Norrington to invite her along was the fact that she’d been smart enough to figure out that the dragonel was likely the most valuable artifact of the invasion. That was something the other commanders had overlooked—they’d reverted to old ways of thinking when the dragonel stopped shooting and the gibberers broke. She made good use of forethought, and there was no doubt in my mind we’d have ample need of it on our expedition.

For troops we took three units: Muroson Heavy Guards, Sebcian Light Foot, and a cavalry unit cobbled together from those who had traveled with us all the way and others at Fortress Draconis. They were designated the Draconis Lancers and bore shields hastily emblazoned with a lance that looked remarkably like the Crown Tower. Prince Augustus led them, giving us a total force of roughly a thousand foot soldiers and five hundred cavalry. Another three hundred people came with our supplies, which consisted of forty wagons and over a thousand horses.

The sun broke through clouds to warm us as we marched north. Most took that as a good omen. I guess I did too, at the time.

Now I just remember it was the last time I felt anything but cold.

As difficult as our expedition had been so far, the trek north made it seem like a child’s garden romp. The distance to the pass in the Boreal Mountains was not far, and Fortress Draconis yielded an abundance of food, supplies, and cold-weather gear. We should have been able to make the journey in half a week or so. And yet, at that point, only five days out, we were only halfway to our goal.

I do recall turning in my saddle and looking back at Fortress Draconis as we rode from it. The outer town formed a charcoal ring around the inner city. The needle that had killed the dragon gleamed in the sunlight. Teams of men swarmed over the dragon, taking it to pieces. While I knew Cavarre had ordered its dissection so he could understand it, from this distance the butchers had the look of insects feeding on a corpse.

North we headed, constantly on alert. This is where our previous experience served us well, as we took precautions against ambushes. When we neared any likely place, squads of men spread out and moved through the forests to sweep them of Aurolani forces. We uncovered and dispersed a number of ambushes set to kill Lord Norrington and our other leaders. Ruining Chytrine’s plans heartened all of us greatly.

Chytrine did learn, however. As we sent squads out, other hidden gibberer groups ambushed them, slowing us further. The fighting grew fierce in some spots, but the gibberers always ended up being overwhelmed. The problem with engagements deep in the woods was that our cavalry couldn’t be employed well, nor could our archers. It was simple cut-and-crush warfare, to which our men took just fine, but deploying men, recovering the wounded, and getting everyone moving again cut our expected rate of advance.

By midday a half a week out of Fortress Draconis, the weather had turned bitter, with a cold wind bringing snow from the north. Ahead of us lay the pass. We could reach it by week’s-end, but now we could barely see it. Clouds shrouded the dulled rock fangs, and white snow covered all the slopes we could see. If the snow let up, it was possible we could still sneak through the pass. If it snowed after that, however, we’d have five long months of winter to survive before we could return south.

Chytrine forced us to make a decision at that point, one that turned out to be as fateful as any we had faced so far. Our scouts found ample evidence that the bulk of her army had set off west into the Ghost Marches. Prince Augustus and Lord Norrington immediately realized she had sent her army in that direction to draw us off. Her troops might be able to make it to Okrannel and link up with the army that had been left behind there. That put Jerana in jeopardy, not to mention all the people living in the Ghost Marches.

At the same time we found evidence that Chytrine and her entourage continued north. If we went after her, we might or might not make it in time to catch and kill her. No one doubted she was the greater evil, and that her death would render the known world safe for a long time. Regardless of our success in getting her, the Aurolani army would still be operating at our rear. They could sweep back and trap us against the Boreal Mountains; they could again assault Fortress Draconis or campaign in Okrannel. As long as they were out there, people would die.

It was that realization that prompted Lord Norrington to split our main force off under Prince Augustus’ command. Riders were sent back to Fortress Draconis with orders to bring the Oriosan Scouts—albeit without Prince Scrainwood—and our fleet and land them in the Ghost Marches. As many popular songs have chronicled the Ghost Campaign, I need not detail it here. None of the songs I have heard could ever exaggerate the heroic effort Prince Augustus and his command exerted to track down and destroy the Aurolani host. They fought their way from the Durgrue River to the Jerana border. The fact that along the way he managed to win himself a wife and save the Okrans refugees who now have communities in civilized cities everywhere merely speaks to his courage and intelligence.

The rest of us, what had become known as the command company, were to head north with all possible speed to catch Chytrine and kill her. The ten of us drew two extra horses apiece and ample supplies to see us through a month of travels. We all joked that we would be able to eat well since we expected to return not a week hence and ride to join up with Augustus. Those who were heading west abetted us in this joke, since all of us knew that chances were we’d never return.

It can seem self-serving for me to say that, especially since I did survive, but Augustus—King Augustus, now—can attest to this fact. In fact, it was he who approached me the eve before we left the main group. The command company had all assembled around a vast bonfire and was eating boiled beans and salt pork when Augustus leaned forward and pointed a fork at Lord Norrington.

“My lord, there is only one more thing I wish you would grant me for my campaign.”

Lord Norrington barely looked up from his plate. “And that is, Prince Augustus?”

“We know the Aurolani warriors are a sullen and stupid lot, given to panic and breaking in terror.” Augustus’ eyes narrowed and he glanced at me. “I would like to have with me a SM/iflŤrin‘-slayer. Give me your aide, young Hawkins here. His presence alone would be worth another battalion of men.”