"I've seen patchwork dress like that before." Sarek mumbled, "I think they're Gorian northlanders. Goat herders, mostly."
"Gorians? Here?" Rak gasped. "Are they allies then to Morloch?"
Gawain shook his head, and turned to Sarek. "Go down, send up Allazar and Elayeen. When they've seen, they can go down, and send back the Thalangard."
"Aye."
"I will go," Rak whispered. "I have seen enough, my brother. Enough to convince Eryk to mobilise."
Gawain nodded, and Rak eased back off the rim. A short time later, Elayeen and Allazar eased forward, side by side, alongside Gawain. Both caught their breath, and stared below in amazement.
"The wagons are leaving." Sarek whispered, needlessly, as a column of ox-drawn carts headed off through the gap in the crater walls and out into the Barak-nor wasteland towards the distant Teeth.
"Something is wrong with the oxen’s feet." Elayeen whispered.
"Aye." Allazar agreed.
"Shoes, of wood and iron I think, to guard against the farak gorin." Gawain whispered.
"What are they doing by those cauldrons, do they boil the slag for ore?" Allazar whispered.
"I do not think so." Gawain muttered, his eyes dark. "Have you seen all?"
Both Elayeen and Allazar nodded, and sighed.
"Longsword…" Allazar began, his breath hesitant, apologetic.
"Later." Gawain hissed. "Go down, and send up the thalangard."
After a final lingering glance at the enemy encampment, Elayeen and Allazar slid back from the edge, and down onto the slopes.
"Is it possible to continue south, and regain Threlland's hills, or must we go back the way we came?" Gawain muttered.
"We must go back the way we came."
"The quicker the better."
When the thalangard eased onto the rim and gazed down in astonishment, movement from below froze the breath in Gawain's chest.
"Something happens." He hissed.
Something was indeed happening. Though there had been no sound, no trumpet call or bell or drum, black-clad troops were emerging from their tents, two at a time. They stood motionless until all were assembled, and then with breathtaking precision they manoeuvred, marching together, forming columns and ranks, and finally coming to a halt in the large clearing which lay between their tents and the great cauldrons still busily tended by their comrades.
"Breakfast, I imagine.” Sarek muttered.
"Aye." Gawain agreed, his voice flat and chilling. "Look there."
Sarek and the thalangard followed his gaze. Four of the soldiers moved away from the cauldrons and strode to the pen in which the Gorian prisoners were huddled. They threw open the gates, strode in, and dragged two out, a man and a woman from their dress. The gate was secured, and the two captives frogmarched to the cauldrons.
"What is happening?" Meeya asked, her voice tight with fear.
"It is as Sarek says." Gawain replied.
"It…it cannot be, Longsword…" Sarek muttered. "It cannot be…"
"Watch. That you may tell the others, and your kings."
The two prisoners were hauled to the cauldrons, their clothing ripped from them, and steel glinted. They died without a sound, or at least it seemed so to the watchers high on the rim. Again, steel glinted, and when the butchering was complete, the parts, all of them, were thrown into the cauldrons.
"It cannot be….it cannot be…" Sarek muttered over and over again.
"Mihoth!" Meeya gasped, reaching out to clutch Valin's hand.
Valin was mumbling something in elven tongue, and though Gawain did not understand the words, he recognised that they were being repeated over and over, just like Sarek.
There was a sudden percussive sound from below, as the soldiers simultaneously came to attention, and then slowly began marching in columns to the cauldrons, bowls in hands. Sarek sobbed, and buried his head in his arms. Gawain reached out and grabbed the officer's hair, jerking his head up.
"Watch, for your king! And for the others!"
They watched as dark ranks queued, bowls were filled, soldiers ate and then marched back to dark tents. When it was over, Gawain's were the only dry eyes surveying the scene below. The pot-tenders calmly refilled their cauldrons with water from great butts left open to collect the rain, and then poured sacks of unidentifiable matter into the water, and began stirring once more.
"It cannot be…" Sarek mumbled once more.
"It can, and it is." Gawain hissed. "We go, now."
They slid back from the rim, and hurried down the slopes to rejoin their companions and the horses.
"Sarek, what has happened?" Rak whispered, staring wide-eyed at the tear-streaked faces of the thalangard and the Threlland officer.
Sarek shook his head. "I cannot say it….I cannot say it…."
"We ride, as soon as it is dark, out of this forsaken land." Gawain hissed.
"Dark?" Allazar gasped.
"We must stay hidden here until it is safe to travel."
"Traveller…"
"Would you rather risk detection by that horde?"
"No!" Meeya gasped, and Sarek shook his head violently.
"Then settle, and keep good watch."
34. Friends
Desperation was etched on the features of both thalangard and Threlland patrol officer, and it was so obvious that they wished to put as much distance between themselves and the Morloch army that none of the others dare ask what it was they'd seen.
"They had but two watchmen on the rim, Traveller," Rak sighed. "Why wait until nightfall?"
"They had but two watchmen that we saw in daylight. We may have passed many in the darkness. We camp here until nightfall. Eat frak if you wish, but drink sparingly."
"I am not hungry." Meeya said, and sat hunched against the mound of ore-slag, as did Sarek and Valin.
Gawain watched them, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"What happened, my brother?" Rak said softly, "What was it you all saw?"
"Later." Gawain muttered, and checked the horses, ensuring they were hobbled and the muffles on their hooves intact.
All too soon it began raining again. All the discipline that the group had learned on their journey to the Barak-nor seemed to have washed away too, and they sat huddled, cold and dejected and fearful, wrapped in their cloaks and saying nothing.
It was yet early afternoon, and though the sky was overcast and laden with drizzle, it would be hours yet before nightfall. Gawain sighed, and stared out across the wasteland, his nose wrinkling at the acrid stench of the Barak-nor which seemed suddenly stronger in the rain.
"What did you see, mithroth?" Elayeen suddenly asked, and though she spoke softly, they all started, so long used to whispering and so stretched were there nerves.
"You must ask the thalangard, my Lady." Gawain whispered, his back to them all. "And you, Lord Rak, must ask your Captain."
"You are cruel again Longsword," Allazar protested, "We would not doubt your word."
Gawain shrugged. "It matters not whether you doubt my word, wizard. As Rak plainly says, Threlland will not listen to me. Nor will Elvendere, nor Callodon."
"Very well," Rak sighed. "What was it you saw, Captain Sarek."
"I cannot say. It is…I cannot say it."
Gawain turned slowly on his heel, his eyes swimming black, and he stared down at the officer. "Your Lord has commanded you to speak, Sarek. Answer him."
"Do not make me say it, Longsword, I beg you?"
Gawain gazed at Sarek, and then turned his back on them all once more.
"You saw the prisoners." Gawain said to the distant hills that gaped as though disembowelled.
"We all did." Rak acknowledged.
"Penned, like sheep."
"Aye."
Gawain folded his arms, wishing he could see the ocean. He'd spent so many hours on the cliffs of Raheen, gazing out over the Sea of Hope. But that had been so long ago. "Just like sheep."