Ironhand's Daughter (36 page)

Wet and shivering, he dressed and walked to the Baron's tent. As he had expected the Baron was already awake, and was sitting at his travel desk examining maps. Leofric entered and bowed. “Good morning, my lord. I trust you slept well?”

The Baron rubbed at the black leather eye patch he wore. “I have not slept well since that damned bird tore out my eye. What news?”

“The scouts are not in yet, sir. Shall I fetch you breakfast?”

“Not yet. How do you think they will defend the pass?” The Baron spread out a series of maps on the rug at his feet. Leofric crouched down and studied them.

“They have few choices, sir. My spies tell me the Pallides had pledged themselves to Sigarni. That brings the total of her force to just over three thousand—not quite enough, I would imagine, to defend the eastern slope. They would be too thinly stretched and we could outflank them. The western slope is shorter, but that would mean leaving a gap in their eastern defenses, through which a force of cavalry could ride, creating havoc in their villages. Of course, they may try to defend both slopes, or they may, if desperate, choose to occupy the flat-topped hill at the north end of the pass. The slopes are steep and a shield-ring would be hard to penetrate.”

“In what way do you see this as a desperate move?” inquired the Baron.

“We would surround them, and there would be no means of escape. They would be gambling all on being able to hold us, wear us down, then counterattack.”

“I agree,” said the Baron. “So which do you believe they will choose?”

“I am not a warrior, my lord, and I do not fully understand their mentality. I would, however, think it likely they will try to occupy the western slope. It is wooded, and covered with boulders. We would be forced to attack many times to discover the areas in which they are weak.”

“Aye, they'll try to be canny,” said the Baron. “That black traitor Asmidir will see to that. Their line will be of varying strength, at its most powerful where an attack is likely.” He stabbed his forefinger at a point on the first map. “Here, where the slope is not so steep, and here, where the tree line thins. We will attack both simultaneously with the infantry. But the cavalry will strike here!”

“The highest ground? Is that wise, my lord?”

“Asmidir knows the way we fight, Leofric. Therefore we change. If I am wrong we will lose a few score cavalry, but the outcome will remain the same. What of supplies?”

Leofric rubbed at his eyes, praying that his head would stop pounding. “I commandeered as many wagons as were available, my lord, and they should start arriving by late this afternoon. The men will be on short rations until we take the Pallides villages and the cattle there.”

“We have your negligence to thank for that,” snapped the Baron. “I shall not swiftly forget the fall of your
impregnable
forts. If you were not my cousin, I would have had you flayed alive.”

“I am very grateful to you, sir,” said Leofric dutifully. The sound of horsemen approaching allowed him to avoid further embarrassment and he rose swiftly and moved outside. The first of the scout troops were returning. Lightly armed on fast horses, they could move swiftly across the countryside. All were veterans of many campaigns, and had traveled with the Census Taker in the autumn in order to accustom themselves to the land.

The lead rider dismounted, the other four riding off toward the cook-fires. The man saluted.

“Your report?” demanded Leofric.

“No sign of the enemy, sir. We killed one old man who ran at us with an ancient broadsword, and we spotted some foresters heading south, but as ordered, we avoided contact. The Loda fort has been plundered and the walls part dismantled. We rode to the Pallides fort, and this has seen similar treatment.”

“Any activity at Duane?”

“None that I could see, sir, and I thought it best not to push too far. We'll head out again after the men have eaten and acquired fresh mounts.”

“Good. We will be moving on to the Loda fort within the hour. When you return, make your report to me there.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Baron appeared and called out to the man as he was about to mount his horse.

“You, how many foresters were heading south?”

“Around a score, sir. Maybe a few more hidden by the trees.”

“Not an attacking force, then?”

“I don't believe so, sir. I think they may have been hunting. I expect food is scarce about now.”

“That's all,” said the Baron, moving alongside Leofric as the man saluted and turned away. “How many men do you have guarding the supply wagons?”

“Two troops, my lord, and a section of infantrymen.”

“Send back another fifty cavalrymen. I don't think they are hunting deer, they are seeking to cut our supply line.”

“Yes, sir. I'll do that immediately.”

“And give the orders to take some of them alive for questioning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you can order me that breakfast,” said the Baron, returning to his tent.

Asmidir fought to keep himself calm. “Sigarni, listen to me; you cannot continue to risk everything on a single throw of the dice. We have enough men now to hold the western slope. We can wear them down, harry their flanks, disrupt their supply lines. There is simply no need for us to take unnecessary chances.”

“I hear what you say, Asmidir, and I will consider it,” she said. “Leave me now.”

She watched him depart, knowing his turmoil. He was a soldier, a strategist, and his hatred of the Outlanders had seeped into his bones. He had traveled far to find an enemy capable of inflicting savage defeats on his enemies, and now he felt it was all at risk. As indeed it was . . .

Fell had stood by silently during the exchange, and she turned to him. “You are slow to offer your opinions, general?”

He laughed. “I'm no general. I am a forester and proud of it. What he says makes sense to me, but who am I to argue with the great Battle Queen of the Highlands?”

“Stop it, Fell,” she said, irritated. “Just tell me what you think.”

“The man understands war—and he knows the ways of the Outlanders. The western slope must be defended, for it leads into our heartland. He knows it. You know it. The Outlanders know it.”

“Exactly my point,” said Sigarni. “We all know where the dangers lie—therefore it is time to think of something different. And, by God, I shall!” She sat in silence for a few moments. “Any sign of Gwalchmai yet?” she asked.

“No. I think he headed home.”

“To die,” she said softly.

“Aye. His time had come, he said. He told me he was due to die in the spring—even knew the face of the soldier who would do the deed.”

“He did not say good-bye,” she said. “He took me in when the beasts slew my . . . parents, and he cherished me throughout my childhood. Why would he leave without saying good-bye?”

“He knew the day and the hour, Sigarni. He left soon after you set off for the Crown. He spoke to Taliesen just before he departed; maybe the wizard can tell you more.”

“And what of Ballistar?”

Fell shook his head. “Nothing yet, but Kollarin is seeking him.”

“It broke his heart, Fell. He wanted you to see him as he was in that other world, strong and straight. He even bedded a woman there. It is often said that what is never had cannot be missed. I think that is true. All his life he has yearned to be like us. Then it happened, and he experienced a joy he could not have dreamed of. The return was a living nightmare for him.”

“You look tired, Sigarni. Perhaps you should rest for a while.”

“No,” she told him, “I need to see Taliesen before he leaves. Will you fetch him?”

“And then you will rest?”

She nodded. As Fell left the cabin Sigarni felt the truth of his words. Her bones ached with weariness, and her mind seemed to float from problem to problem, never settling. How long since you slept? she asked herself. Three days? Four?

Taliesen entered. “The enemy is six thousand strong,” he said, “and they will be here in two days. I wish you good fortune, Sigarni. It all rests now on your skill, and the courage of your men.”

“I wish you could stay, Taliesen. Your powers would be more than useful.”

“I shall return when the battle is over.”

“You are assuming that we will conquer?”

“No,” he said sadly. “I am making no assumptions. I have seen many futures, Sigarni. In some you win, in others you die.”

“They cannot all be true,” she pointed out.

“Oh, they can,” he said softly. “I long ago learned that there are many worlds identical to our own. When we travel between them, all things are possible. If you are dead when I return I will travel more Gateways, seeking a Sigarni who survived.”

“Why not seek her now—and then tell me how she did it?”

He smiled. “I like you, Battle Queen. Truly. And now I must go. Have you spoken to Ironhand since he lost his second life?”

“Yes. His hurt is considerable, but he is still with me,” she said, touching the pouch hanging at her throat.

“I am sorry for the dwarf. I did not know that he would be so affected beyond the Gate.”

“Kollarin will find him. Ballistar is strong; he will recover. Go in peace, Taliesen.”

The old man bowed once more and walked to the door. Sigarni stretched herself out on the narrow pallet bed.

And drifted into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke Ironhand was sitting beside her. The old King was clad once more in his silver armor, with a great winged helm upon his head, his beard braided. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

“Three hours. Fell is outside the cabin and is allowing no one in.”

“Now is the time for decisions,” she said, sitting up and rubbing the sand of sleep from her eyes. “And it frightens me.”

“As it should. A little fear is like yeast to the spirit, encouraging it to grow strong.”

“What if I make a mistake now?”

“Then all die,” he told her bluntly.

She took a deep, calming breath. “What advice can you offer me?”

“You are the Queen of the Highlands, my daughter, and I am proud of you. But now you must learn the one terrible lesson of monarchy. That you are alone. The decision is yours. Win or lose,
you
carry the weight. For what it is worth, however, I will offer one thought—seek out the wife of Torgan.”

“You know her?”

“I was with you when you spoke last to her. She made you smile, and she made you cry. Both were good for you.”

“Then you cannot say which defensive plan would be the best for us? I was relying on you, Ironhand. You have fought so many battles. You won them all.”

“No, I didn't. Wish I had. I was always too headstrong. I just won the important ones. Seek out the woman, then make a decision. Stick to it, and be firm in your leadership. If you have doubts, hide them. You are the Battle Queen. They will all look to you, now and always.”

“You will be with me on the battlefield?”

“Aye, then I will seek Elarine and the fields of glory.”

The image shimmered and vanished. Sigarni rose and called out to Fell, who entered the room and knelt beside her. “You were talking in your sleep,” he said. “I could not make out the words.”

“I am going for a walk. Will you join me?”

“I am at your command,” he told her.

“I am asking you as a
friend
, Fell,” she told him, holding out her hand. For a moment only he stared at it, then their fingers touched. She looked into his deep brown eyes, and watched his smile grow.

“I love you, Sigarni,” he said, his voice thickening. “Always did, always will. Welcome home.”

Together they walked from the cabin and down the hillside. The snow was melting fast, and spring flowers were everywhere. “Is Torgan still here?” she asked.

“As far as I know. He and his wife have taken lodging with Fyon Sharp-axe. Are you going to give him a command?”

“Yes,” she said, “under you.”

“Why? The man insulted you—and all of us.”

“But he's a Highlander, Fell, and a brave man. He deserves a second chance—for his wife and family if for nothing else.”

“Why the change, Sigarni? What has happened to you?”

“Perhaps it is High Druin,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps he spoke to me. When I went through the Gateway to that strange land I could almost feel its emotions. Yet the people there could not. I think it is the same here. The land cannot abide hatred, Fell. And I have no place left in my heart for it. Tomorrow we fight the Outlanders—because we must. We will destroy them if we can—but only because we must. Torgan was wrong, but he believed himself right and acted with the best interests of his clan at heart. Now he suffers shame. I shall end that.”

As they approached the end of the tree line Sigarni turned toward Fell and curled her arms around his neck. “I hated you when you left me, and when I heard about the death of your wife I was glad. It shames me to admit, and I feel sorrow now.”

Dipping his head he kissed her tenderly. “This is all I ever wanted, Sigarni. I know that now.”

“Leave me here, Fell. I will see you later—at the meeting hall. There I will announce our battle plan.”

“And after that?”

“We will go home. Together.”

Sigarni walked down the winding lane to the home of Fyon Sharp-axe. Loran, Torgan, and the huge warrior Mereth were sitting in the sunshine with the Hunt Lord. All rose as Sigarni approached.

“You are welcome, lady,” said Fyon with a short bow.

Loran fetched a chair for her, and they sat. Torgan remained standing, then turned toward the house. “Wait,” said Sigarni, “I would value your counsel.”