Valour and Victory (20 page)

“I’m at a loss
about how to deal with the Lindars,” he admitted once the three of
them were alone apart from the younger William who was listening
from the entrance. “I don’t speak their language. You’ll have
noticed that their commander wasn’t at the meeting.”

“Their Susa?
Well, that’s what me and Zawlei are here for sir, in part to
translate, to tell them where you want them to be, what they are to
do and why.”

“Lindar Hanei
and those in the reserve are not from Vadath,” said Zawlei, “so
they only speak their own tongue apart from a few words.”

“One of the
Vadathian Militia commanders could have translated, or Charles and
Wlya,” Rilla continued, “but it would have taken too long and the
Lind are not good with maps anyhow. They find it difficult to
relate little pieces of colours and tokens to groups of soldiers
and almost impossible to comprehend contour lines.”

“It took me
many days to understand that a long blue squiggle is a river,”
agreed Zawlei.

“So what do we
do?” asked the Duke.

“They must be
taken up to the ridge and it shown to them,” said Rilla in a firm
voice.

“All of
them?”

“The Lindar
Susas and the Ryz Susas at least,” Rilla confirmed. “They can
‘send’ the images of what they are seeing to the Lind under their
command.”

Duke William
was relieved and looked it, “right, that’s what we’ll do first
thing in the morning.”

Zawlei’s eyes
took on that unfocused look which meant that he was establishing
telepathic contact with one of his own kind. To the astonishment of
the two southerners only a few heartbeats elapsed before he
announced, “they agree. They will be here at first sun.”

Duke William
let out an approving snort. “That was quick. I could get used to
this instantaneous message sending which brings me to my next
query. Why are there only one of you two? What do I do if you’re
not available? If you or Zawlei were to be wounded for instance,
how would I keep in contact with Susyc Julia?”

“That problem
is being addressed,” Zawlei answered. “I believe Weaponsmaster
Jilmis is intending to send another in case of need.”

“Another pair
of cadets?”

“Probably not.
They are all assigned as are me and my Rilla.”

“It’s likely to
be one of the older pairs,” agreed Rilla. “Many came south with us.
The Lind consider it a dishonour not to fight when there is need.
They may be old but their mental facilities are as good as ever
they were.”

“Can they
fight?” asked Duke William. “I can’t spare any men to protect
them.”

“What they lack
in agility is more than compensated by experience,” said Zawlei,
seeing Rilla did not know how to answer the question.

The next day, a
short time after Rilla and Zawlei had returned to camp after
escorting the Duke and the Lindar Susas to the ridge, another
vadeln-pair entered the Duchesne camp.

Rilla and
Zawlei had been correct in their assumption. The two were an older
pair, the Lind carrying the man had many white hairs on her coat.
She also sported a bad limp.

It was Duncin
and Stasya, late of the Vada Supply Station situated close to
Rilla’s home town and friend of one Captain Robain Hallam of the
Argyll Garda.

The tent that
had been allocated to Rilla was big enough (just about) for Duncin
to fit inside too.

“Good job that
neither of us is fat and that it’s summertime,” said Duncin as he
laid his sleep bag down beside Rilla’s. “Stasya and Zawlei can
sleep outside.”

“Zawlei does
that anyway. He likes being outside in the fresh air and the tent
is stuffy. So do I actually, but Duke William has forbidden it.
Thinks I’m safer under the tent though how much protection a bit of
canvas is as anyone’s guess.”

“I must admit
the man impressed me,” said Duncin in a voice designed not to carry
and with grudging respect. “Until recently I believed that Murdoch
was a country full of barbarians.”

“Now they’re
just different?” suggested Rilla.

“Quite so. He’s
not the first southern noble I’ve met. I’ve met others, quite
recently too. Friends of mine brought three of them to see me when
they were passing my Supply Station some months back, an older man
and a couple of younger ones. I must say I was favourably
impressed. Certainly better than I had expected.”

Rilla started
at him open mouthed.

“Your friend,
it wasn’t Robain Hallam of the Garda was it? No, it can’t be, too
much of a coincidence.”

“It
was.
How did you know?”

“I met them
myself when they visited Vada last summer and later on when they
returned. They were returning home.”

“When was
that?”

“A few days
before Julia and Alyei called the muster. There weren’t three
southerners with Robain but four. They must have picked another one
up during their travels. Robain was with them, my sister Tala too.
I spoke to Robain and Tala and also the younger one of the
southerners. His name is Walter.”

“Ah, young
Walter,” Duncin smiled at the memory of the young man who had
helped him with the cooking with little skill but much enthusiasm.
“ I remember him. My Stasya liked him. Did they say where exactly
they were heading?”

Rilla shook her
head. “They were very reticent about their future plans. I believe
they were taking a boat to the southern continent. I think Tala
went with them but I can’t be sure. Why she should I can’t
imagine.”

“Tala,” thought
Duncin aloud, “and your name is Rilla. You’re not related in some
way to Robain’s girlfriend Hilla are you?”

“She’s my
triplet sister. She’s somewhere up the ridge with the Garda Officer
Trainees, in the second division under General de Groot. My other
triplet sister is here too. She’s a volunteer nurse with Doctor
Liam Hallam’s medical section and that’s another coincidence. Liam
is Robain’s brother. Strange how our lives have become so
intertwined.”

“Strange thing
fate,” agreed Duncin. “I read a very long book once, when I was in
the infirmary. It was full of dull stuff about philosophy and
beliefs but one chapter was about fate. It was the only interesting
chapter in the book. Did you know that a long time ago, people,
they were called the Greeks, thought that there were three kinds of
fate? Not our ancestors here on Rybak but centuries and centuries
ago, before we came here, on Earth.”

“No I didn’t.
What were these fates?”

“Let me see;
the first they called ‘Clotho’, I always thought it a strange word,
that was the fate of life, like a gossamer’s web, spinning life
onwards.”

“And the
second?”

“That was
‘Atropos’, it was the opposite of ‘Clotho’, the end of life, the
severing of the web.”

“I don’t like
that one,” said a decided Rilla, “and the third?”

“That’s the one
I never really understood. If I remember rightly it was called
‘Lachesis’ or something like it. The Greeks believed that it
governed what happened to people, I can’t remember the words
exactly, it was a long time ago.”

“Try,” urged
Rilla.

Duncin thought
for a minute, “got it! It assigns destiny. That’s what I mean, this
lachesis is apaw here. You, me, Robain, Hilla and the others, we
were destined to meet, lachesis has made our lives intertwine. An
odd thought.”

“It is. I’m
glad you and Stasya are here. You’re a sort of link to my sisters.
They’re here on the ridge but I can’t be with them but you know who
they are.”

“I’ve never met
them,” Duncin was confused.

“But you know
of
them, through Robain, he talked to you about us, it makes
them seem closer somehow and that is what helps. I’m frightened
Duncin. I’m about to fight in a battle!”

“Rilla, only a
fool wouldn’t be frightened,” the understanding Duncin replied.
“I’m scared too, so are Stasya and Zawlei. What you are feeling is
perfectly natural and is shared by most of the soldiers in the
army. They may sound as if they aren’t scared but underneath they
are, scared to death and wondering if they will be brave enough
when the time comes, if they will survive, if their friends will
survive. You and Zawlei are no different.”

“I’ll do my
best,” gulped Rilla.

“Nolind or man
can do more,” he agreed, “now, you’d better brief me about the
aspects of our job here that Duke William didn’t talk about. The
kohorts are getting closer and our first detachments are moving up
to the front line in the morning. Listen in you two,” he added to
Stasya and Zawlei who were sitting enjoying the sun while their
stomachs digested the large meal they had just consumed.

Rilla began to
talk, filling in the gaps so that Duncin and Stasya understood
exactly how Duke William intended to hold his sector of the
ridge.

They spent the
evening together in quiet companionship. Duncin kept her busy,
checking over their armour and equipment, oiling the leather and
polishing their swords.

When Rilla’s
head hit her improvised pillow she fell into an immediate and
dreamless sleep, tired out after all the experiences of the day.
Duncin watched her sleep for a while, sorrowful that a girl, just
into womanhood was about to take part in a battle that would be
long, bloody and brutal.

The army was
full of Rilla’s, young people determined to do their duty, to play
their own little part in the war.

* * * * *

Elliot and
Robain

“So this is
Sunny Sahara,” declared Robain in disgust, “no one told me about
the sand, the heat and the flies,
especially
the flies.” His
voice was muffled, the two of them wore desert turbans, the
headgear worn by those who lived there and designed to protect the
head and to stop breathing in the sand and dust.

“Dusty Sahara
my Father calls it, it’s a terrible place. I used to dread the time
when as Crown-Prince I would have to take the Sahara chair on
Conclave.”

“Could be a lot
worse,” said Robain, “you’ve never been in the northern mountains.
Just change the sun for wind and the sand for snow and you’d be
about right and cold, you have no idea! No flies though.”

“I could be
doing with a bit of wind and snow right now,” declared Elliot, “I’m
so hot I’m boiling inside.”

“Think about
how the horses must feel,” said Robain, “and are you sure you know
where we’re going? It’d be easy to get lost, we could end up going
round in circles if we’re not careful.”

Elliot nodded
and pointed in a southerly direction. “Down there, it’s not far.
See that large nose-pointed crag?”

Robain squinted
in the direction Elliot was pointing. He could just make out the
crag. “Your eyes are better than mine,” he said, “privilege of
youth.”

“Not of rank?”
quipped Elliot.

“Rank is of no
consequence when we’re alone,” quipped back Robain, “remember?”

Elliot laughed.
Their friendship was very close now, Elliot responding well to
Robain’s ‘big brother’ guise. Robain treated Elliot much as he had
Liam and Ansell and Elliot liked it.

“So what’s at
the big rock?”

“Mining
station, a big one. There must be about two thousand slave workers
there. I thought it would be a good place to start. It’s further
away than it looks, distances are deceptive here. We’ll not get
there before tomorrow.”

“What
is
the mine?”

“Ore,” Elliot
replied, “this area is riddled with them. I also know one of the
overseers, sort of. His brother is the Armsmaster at Fort. He used
to teach me sword drills.”

“So what
exactly are we going to be facing there?”

“It’s a royal
mine, that is it is owned by the Crown. About half the ore mines
are. That’s the main reason why I chose it as our first port of
call.”

“So you’re just
going to ride in there, state that you are the Prince-Heir Elliot
of Murdoch and that the slaves are all free so long as they join
with you to relieve the Citadel and fight the Larg?”

“Approximately
so, yes,” said Elliot.

* * * * *

The next
morning Elliot took a great deal of care over his appearance. “I
don’t want to look too rich and regal but I need to be regal enough
so that they believe that I am who I say I am and that I can
deliver what I am promising. Luckily Brent, the Armsmaster’s
brother I told you about should be there and will be able to vouch
for me.”

“And if he’s
not there?”

“Then we’ll
have to fall back on Plan B.”

“What’s Plan
B?”

“I don’t know,”
answered Elliot with a grin, “I’ll work on it while we ride.”

“Why doesn’t
that reassure me?”

It took them
the best part of the morning to reach the mine.

“They’re not
fortified,” Elliot explained to Robain as they rode. “Most have a
wooden palisade round the perimeter but I suspect it is more to
keep the slaves in than anybody else out. The royal mines aren’t
too bad.”

“Define
bad.”

“Prince David,
he’s my great-uncle, spent a lot of time here over the last ten to
fifteen years regularising matters. He and my Father have put
certain controls in place relating to the management of the crown
mines and the treatment of the slave workers. The overseers are
chosen with care as are the mine managers. That’s not the case in a
lot of the privately owned mines. Father and Uncle David would like
to make the controls part of the legislation but they have had to
tread carefully.”

“The Dukes who
rebelled?”

“The very
ones.”

“So that’s why
you think the overseers and the managers won’t be
antagonistic?”

“Exactly.
They’re crown servants, paid direct from the royal coffers. The
workers are not owned by them.”