The Sword of Morning Star (11 page)

Warily, the bears and boars looked at one another and at Sandivar. Then the sorcerer made some gestures and some sounds, most of them strange and spine-chilling. Abruptly, the atmosphere thawed; the animals moved in close to ring themselves around the men. The boars shifted restlessly on sharp hooves; the bears sat down flat on their bottoms, heavily.

The King Boar was the first to speak. “Why has the Man asked council with us? A truce we grant because he knows the trucial words by which we are in tradition bound—and in our knowledge is the first Man ever these words to know. For all that, we have livings to get, and our time is valuable.”

“So say we,” grunted the King Bear. “Speak, Man.”

“Aye,” said Sandivar. “You are from the Frorwald, are you not?”

A pause. Then the Boar grumbled: “Indeed. But so thick have grown the wolves in there that, for politic reasons, our tribe has left. Think not,” he added hastily, “that this was through fear. But they were ten to our one, and no longer could we protect our young, which they devoured in tragedy after tragedy. Someday, though, we assure you, we shall return, and when we do, woe unto the wolves there as we retake our own.”

“Perhaps now is the time,” said Sandivar.

The King Bear growled: “A moment. Our own case is the same. Though any bear is the equal of a dozen wolves, none can outfight fifty or a hundred. Thus our cubs were sacrificed, and many of our shes, and so we relinquished our hold on our territory and came here to live off beans and turnips. But we, too, yearn for our old stronghold. Still, we have not strength enough as yet to retake it.”

“Not alone,” Sandivar told him. “But allied with the boars—?”

The two great animals, bear and boar, looked surlily at one another and back at Sandivar with equal distrust. “Full many a piglet of ours has his kind devoured,” grunted the King Boar.

“Aye, and we have lost our share of young to you in revenge,” snarled the Bear. “Tusked open when caught alone and helpless—” He turned to Sandivar. “Besides, the mast—acorns, beech, and other autumn food; we have long fought one another for this.”

“And shall, I reckon, far into the future,” said the old man.
“If
you ever return to the Frorwald.” He raised a hand. “Now, hear me. Enemies of each other may you be, and also of me, the human. But all of us are enemies of the wolves; and the wolves are enemies of us all. If we forget ill-feeling for now, join together, make common cause against the wolves, and so destroy them, then at least you have your Frorwald back and can resume your old enmity at your leisure. Otherwise, disunited, live out your lives down here on turnips and potatoes, yield the Frorwald forever to the wolves to spoil and violate, and never let your children know the freedom of that ancient forest…”

There was a long silence. Helmut waited patiently and in fascination. Then the grunting resumed, as the Boar conferred with those others who had accompanied it. The Bear sat silently for a moment, its head cocked. Then Waddle growled something deferentially at it; and it arose and turned to huddle together with its followers.

For a good half hour then, there in the bean field, as the moon climbed higher, the negotiations went on. The enmity between bear and boar was as old as the Frorwald itself, and not easily overcome; nor was their mutual distrust of humankind less deeply rooted. But at last the King Boar spoke:

“For our part, we yearn for our homeland. This consideration overpowers all others, and our fighting tuskers are prepared to shed their blood to reclaim it, if—” He looked at Helmut. “If, as you say, this human will be King of Boorn and shall undertake to guarantee us the fruits of our sacrifices.”

“Such guarantee you have herewith,” said Sandivar. “You shall hold the Frorwald as you did in King Sigrieth’s day. And you as well,” he went on, turning to the Bear. “Some hunting there will be, as in the past, just as some of you will turn outlaw and raid the fields and flocks of men as in the past. But it will never be warfare and extermination between the men of Boorn and the boars and bears of Boorn.”

The King Bear rumbled: “The hunting amounts to nothing; we take our toll of men as men take their toll of us—and the boars do likewise. In such contests are all races kept strong, clean, and fit, the weaklings quickly plucked from among us. All right: if boars will make an undertaking, than shall we bears. A truce and an alliance until the Frorwald is purged of wolves and we hold our ancient haunts again.”

“So say we,” grunted the King Boar.

And when Sandivar had repeated this to Helmut, he nodded too. “And on behalf of men of Boorn, I give my pledge…”

“Then it is done and sealed,” said Sandivar. “When will your forces be recruited and ready to march?”

“The Frorwald fair begins a day’s march hence,” said the King Bear, “at the crossing of the stream called Weidling, lying in the forest under the mountain Asten, athwart the trail across the hills to Markau. There shall we meet you, my tribes and I, one sun’s rising after this one.”

“Aye, well said,” the Boar grunted. “My people also shall I have in covert there. We have watched the Frorwald. At night it almost empties itself of wolves, as under the leadership of a huge black she they swarm to the siege of Castle Markau. Night would be best for crossing, but you men are hampered in the darkness, nor are our eyes the best then. But we will assemble, meet at daybreak, and cross the hills together, all of us, one army, bears and boars alike.”

“Then, much thanks. And tell them there is no time to lose,” said Helmut, when Sandivar had translated this. “We’ll meet at the Weidling ford, and, ere nightfall the kites shall feast well on wolf meat, that I promise.”

CHAPTER IX

And so, with blood beating high, Helmut, bastard of Sigrieth, rode toward the Frorwald, astride Vengeance, Rage ready to flash at any needful moment, and Death and Destruction loping at his stirrup-irons. Meanwhile, in the court at Marmorburg, Kor, the barbarian chieftain, drained his tankard and dragged the back of his huge hand across his matted beard. “Well,” he growled, belching, “your wine’s all right. But for a man’s drink, I’ll have mead.”

He had removed his horned helmet of iron and hammered silver, and his hair gleamed red and tangled in the candlelight. His face was like something hacked from oak with a dull broad-ax, but there was nothing stupid about the little blue eyes under ridges of bone. His garb was soft-tanned deerskin, but his cloak was of rich, shimmering sable and his broadsword and battle-ax of choicest Northern steel. His body was broad and strong, thick-limbed, and smelled, thought Albrecht of Wolfsheim, as if water had not touched it in a year.

Nevertheless, Albrecht was careful to be respectful as he spoke. “And so we are agreed?”

“Aye,” Kor rumbled, pouring more wine. “My hostages, my wife and son, have been delivered unto you and yours to me; and should either fail to keep faith with other, there will be slow killing. But only give us chance at plunder, Albrecht, and you’ll not find the tribes of Kor faithless.” He belched again.

“Of rape and pillage shall your men have all they desire. Under Sigrieth’s protection, the Lands of Light have grown rich, fat, and indolent. Now they are ripe for plucking—and to produce future tribute, which shall be divided equally between us both.”

“Then all’s in readiness. My tribes are assembled; when you have sent me word, I shall bring them down across the Jaal, join forces with you at Grancsay on this bank, and the two armies, mine and yours, conjoined, shall march together the length of Boorn, cross the Frorwald and the Dolos, and fall upon the Southern Lands with fire and sword. The New Learning, of which you seem so fearful, shall be stamped out; slaves taken; whatever of worth we can lay hands on. Aye—” He drank again. “Indeed, Albrecht, this may be the start of something big. Between the two of us, we could rule the world. Turning next upon the Eastern Tribes, beyond the Casus Mountains, we could reestablish a world in which strength of arm and sharpness of blade receive their rightful honor.”

“Perhaps. We’ll talk about next moves with this accomplished.” Albrecht shelled almonds with strong fingers and crunched them between strong teeth. In another six months, he thought, he would have recruited half-wolf forces strong enough to take the Dark Lands and recover whatever plunder Kor came by now. But for the moment, the main thing was to stamp out the menacing thing they called the New Learning, which gave men reason to dream of freedom. Kor was barbaric and uneducated; his thoughts might be ambitious, but if there were to be one ruler of the world, it would be Albrecht, Emperor of the Gray Lands. And, had he a queen, she would be Kierena, the black, voluptuous sorceress.

But for now, he needed Kor and would use him as the need arose. Half-wolves had he enough to make that more than possible, outnumbering the barbaric tribes by three to one, just as they outnumbered the men of Boorn, who’d quit his army in disgust. But those men were still a threat, would be until the rebel Hagen was made example of, and must be coped with. Also, the barbarians; he dared not turn his back on them while raiding in the Lands of Light—thus this alliance. But when all was settled, this first war over and his wealth and power thus established, he’d take the unwitting Kor by the hip at the first opportunity…

Then Eero came into the room, deferentially. He bore a scroll, which, wordlessly, he passed to Albrecht. “You will excuse me,” the King of Boorn murmured to the barbarian, who already drank deeply from his refilled tankard. When he had finished reading, with a smile, he passed the scroll back to Eero. It was good: Kierena prophesied that within three nights Markau would fall. That would eliminate the last possible obstacle to the crossing of the Frorwald by the allied armies and the rape of the Lands of Light.

“We may move more swiftly than we supposed. One recalcitrant lord blocked our way; by three days hence he will be disposed of. On the fourth morning can your army be at Grancsay?”

Kor blinked. “We ride wild cattle you know; they are not as fleet as horses, but their horns are fearful in a battle. But—” He considered for a moment. Then he nodded. “Aye. If you will send a messenger on your fleetest horse, my lieutenants shall assemble the army and move it. Have yours at Grancsay and ours shall be there also. Thence we shall move as you direct, though our wild bulls may slow your horses down.” Again he drained the tankard. “Tell me something, Albrecht—”

“And what would you know?”

“So completely have you reversed King Sigrieth’s policies—Always our enemy, he kept us north of the Jaal ever since the battle of the Moor of Yrawnn. But now you give us passage to and fro through Boorn, make alliance with us, and replace your human soldiers with the—” his lip curled, “half-wolves. In addition, new taxes have you imposed and other harshness caused. Rebel not your subjects against such measures?”

“Not after Markau’s fall,” said Albrecht, and he told Kor as much as he deemed wise of the siege laid against Hagen and all his holdings. He was not overkeen that Kor should learn that, besides the army of half-wolves, an army of wolves under the Black Wolf lay also at his command. But Kor must be confident if he were to be used. When he had finished, the barbarian nodded.

“Aye, makes sense,” he said. He poured more wine into his tankard. “One last string left dangling. Sigrieth’s bastard, whom you have told me lost his sword hand beneath your broad-ax. Have you heard ought of him as challenge to your lawful rule?”

Carefully, Albrecht resisted the temptation to frown. Certain intelligence had reached him from the Lands of Light about an old sorcerer and a young knight whom everyone called Morning Star; surely Sandivar, but who the other, ten years too old and missing his right hand, it replaced with the spiked chain-mace ball? When that news had come, knowing Sandivar as he did, Albrecht’s entrails had clenched in momentary fear.

“No,” he said. “The child perished, surely, on the Jaal, in an open boat. Bled to death or starved within the Southern fens—”

“Then good,” said Kor. “With your half-wolf army, you are invincible, but many men remain within the Gray Lands, ex-soldiers and the like, and should ever Sigrieth’s banner come back, you and I alike are in for trouble. For know you, Albrecht—and take this advice from an ex-enemy who is now a friend, but nonetheless a man—you rely too much upon your wolfish forces. Men will not long stand indignities from those who are only half a man… Should e’er the bastard return, rallying men around Sigrieth’s standard, then you have great trouble…”

“I told you,” Albrecht rasped, “the bastard is long since dead.”

“Then you have no worries,” and Kor drained another tankard.

“None,” said Albrecht, convincing himself with the word and thinking ahead to where he would be Emperor of the World, and his Empress dark of hair and ivory white of skin and red, red, red of lip…

At daybreak came they to the Weidling ford, where a pleasant stream flowed horse-hock deep across the rocks, and the stream banks were edged with thickets. As salmon-bellied dawn streaked itself across the sky, Helmut reined in Vengeance and spoke to the two wolfhounds at his stirrups. Then he dismounted and drank long and deep from the clear, cold brook.

Meanwhile, Sandivar swung down from the tired Waddle. His keen old eyes swept all the brush around them and vaulted to the rising hillsides above. For this was the very base of the Frorwald, and a trail’s thread wound up into the high, dark woods above. So far, there had been no wolves; but they would come back with daylight from their siege of Markau.

And then Vengeance snorted, and Helmut jumped erect; even Sandivar started. For all around them, the thickets and the hillside forests seethed into life. Whatever made it move, the underbrush was inhabited by hundreds, nay, thousands of beings; and if it were the wolves, then they were lost.

But, no—from out the darkened, dew-damp thickets came the boars. Rearing high on their back legs, the bears made themselves visible. And as Sandivar and Helmut stared, far greater armies of these creatures came in sight than either of them ever had dared dream.

Then, with attendants and some ceremony, the King Boar and King Bear came forward. Above them now, the sun was surely rising. “Good Sandivar,” the King Boar rumbled, “we are well met. My scouts say that half the wolves seep back into the Frorwald with first light, while the other half keep watch on Markau.”