When Haaken sent word that the fifth wall was weakening, he began withdrawing from the bluff. Otherwise he would be cut off. It would have been nice to have denied it to the enemy, but he thought the battle would be decided before Shinsan could take advantage of it. He left two Marena Dimura to keep an eye on Maisak.
Before he departed, he examined the western slopes. It should be true night down there. He saw no campfires, but did spot the beacon Sir Andvbur was supposed to light when the barons neared his position. Assuming he beat Shinsan, which wasn't likely, could he handle the barons? His men would be weary and weak.
"Colonel."
He turned.
A new dimension had been given Shinsan's attack. He wondered if it were because of his withdrawal.
From Maisak's gate came the woman he and Mocker had seen in mists in Ruderin. She rode a dark-as-midnight stallion trapped in Shinsan armor. Both moved in intensely bright light. Even at that distance Bragi was awed by the woman's beauty. Such perfection was unnatural.
Beside her, on a white charger, rode a child equally bright, perhaps six, in golden breastplate and greaves, with a small sword in hand and a child-sized crown on his head. This was a simple thing, iron, like a helmet with the top removed.
"Must be the Captal's Pretender," Bragi muttered. A stream of Kaveliners followed the woman and child. The Captal had, apparently, found support for his royal candidate.
The battle was lost, he thought. Shinsan had softened him up for these men to break and give the child-king an imaginary victory. Time to worry about keeping it from becoming a rout.
Which, unhorsed, would dishearten those troops most? He drew a shaft to his ear, released, put a second in the air while the first yet sped.
He let fly at the two stallions, assuming the sorceress would have shielded herself and her puppet with spells.
The first shaft found the heart of the white, the second the flank of the black. The white screamed and threw the child. The black, like the soldiers of Shinsan, made no sound, but it staggered and slowly went down, hindquarters first. Two more shafts whistled in, one missing, the last turning to smoke in the invisible protection around the woman.
She shrieked, a sound of rage so loud it should never have come from mortal lips. She swung a glittering spear round to point at the peak. Mists of darkness enveloped her.
Ragnarson ran. The bluff behind him exploded. He put on more speed as he heard stone grinding and groaning. The bluff was falling apart, sliding away into the pass. Two hundred yards downslope he glanced back. The peak looked as though some antediluvian monster had taken a bite—and was still nibbling.
"What the hell happened?" Blackfang demanded when he reached the canyon floor.
"Witch got mad at me."
"Cut off her nose to spite her face, then."
"Eh?"
"Must've been three hundred Shinsaners where the mountain fell."
Ragnarson's men were finishing the survivors. Some were about to go haring over the rockfall toward Maisak. "She'll really be mad now. Call them back. We're pulling out."
"Why? We've won."
"Uhn-uh. There's still one hell of a mob over there. Kaveliners. But she's the problem..."
"As you say."
"Now the barons," Ragnarson mumbled, as he settled on a rock, exhausted.
After a while he had men collect enough Shinsan armor and weapons to convince any doubters in Kavelin.
NINE: Family Life
i) I'll wind from Itaskia
Elana didn't worry till Bragi had been gone a week. By the end of the second week she was frantic.
The third raid had left her all raw nerves, and Bevold, who had fallen days behind schedule, had become insufferable.
She spent much of her time watching her teardrop, till Gerda chided her for neglecting Ragnar and Gundar. She realized she was being foolish. Why did the women always have to wait?
One bright spot was Rolf. His chances looked better daily.
Came an afternoon when Ragnar, playing in the watchtower, shouted, "Ma, there's some men coming."
They were near enough to count. Six men. She recognized Uthe's and Dahl's mounts.
Despair seized her. "That bastard. That lying, craven son-of-a-bitch with a brain like sheep shit in shallow water trying to make it to dry land. He's let Haroun talk him into it. I'll kill him. I'll break every bone in his body and kill him!"
"Ma!"
Ragnar had never seen her like this.
"All right." She scooped him up and settled him on her hip. He laughed. "Let's go watch Uthe weasel."
She moved a chair to the porch and, with Ragnar and Gundar squirming in her lap, waited.
One glimpse of Uthe's face was enough. Bragi had gone chasing Haroun's dreams. She was so angry she just glared and waited.
Uthe approached reluctantly, shrugged and showed his palms in a gesture of defeat.
"Goodwife Ragnarson?" one of Haas's companions asked. She nodded.
"Captain Wilhusen, Staff, War Ministry. His Excellency offers his apologies and heartfelt condolences for any inconvenience caused by his calling your husband to active service."
Active service? They couldn't do that. Could they?
"Elana?"
She turned slightly, allowed another face to focus. "Turran! And Valther. What?..."
"We work for the army now. Kind of slid into it sideways."
"And Brock?" Her anger she ignored for the moment.
"Poisoned arrow in Escalon."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. We've been dead for years. Just won't lie down."
"You'll see Nepanthe, won't you? She's been so worried."
"There'll be time to catch up. We'll be seeing a lot of each other."
"I don't understand. But come in. You must be tired and hungry."
"You've done well," said Turran, following her in.
"Bragi's worked hard. Too hard, sometimes. And we've had good people helping. It hasn't been easy."
"No doubt. I know what this country was like."
"Well, make yourselves comfortable. Captain. Valther. You. I didn't catch your name. I'm sorry."
"Sergeant Hunsicker, ma'am, with the Captain, and don't go to no bother on my account."
"No bother. Gerda, we've guests. Hungry guests." A moment later, "Some explanations, please," she demanded, unable to control her anger. "Where's my husband?"
"Captain, may I?" Turran asked. He received a nod. While he talked, Elana considered the changes four years had wrought. He was handsome as ever, but gray had crept into his raven hair, and he had lost a lot of weight. He was pale, looked weak, and at times shook as if suddenly chilly. When she asked about his health, he replied cryptically that, once again, this time in Escalon, they had chosen the losing side.
A shadow ghosted across Valther's face. He looked older than Turran, who had a decade on him. He had been a lively daredevil four years ago; now he seemed almost retarded. When, with a sort of childlike curiosity, he wandered over to stare into the fireplace, Elana whispered, "What happened to Valther?"
"It comes and goes," Turran replied. "He never talks any more. Escalon was hard for him. But the bad periods get shorter. Sometimes he seems almost ready to speak, then his mind wanders... I haven't given up hope." He went on explaining why Bragi hadn't come home.
She didn't understand why she had to turn her home over to Captain Wilhusen, but it was clear she had little choice.
"Where can we go?" she asked. "We can't stay in the kingdom. We can't go north to Bragi's people. We've all got enemies in Iwa Skolovda, Dvar and Prost Kamenets. And we can't go south if Greyfells' partisans want us."