As Nir-yat made those arrangements, Dar headed for her hanmuthi. Her exhaustion returned, but she waited for Tauma-yat’s sons to arrive. When they did, she explained that she wanted them to seek for washavokis on the New Road. “Approach them as if they were hares,” she said. “They must not see you. If you find them, remember I want knowledge, not fighting. I wish to know their numbers, whether they are still or marching. If marching, how fast. Note their location and activities. Discover if more are arriving through pass. When you learn these things, return quickly. This hall is in peril, and I need this knowledge to decide what course to take.”
After the sons departed, Dar took off her boots. Without undressing further, she collapsed into her bed. Within moments, she was asleep.
Elsewhere in the night, His Royal Majesty and Monarch of the Eastern Realm, King Kregant III, shivered beneath his sleeping furs as he sucked his thumb. Winds buffeted his dark tent, making its walls flap loudly. But it wasn’t the noise that prevented sleep. The boy feared his cloth shelter might be blown off the ridge it straddled, sending him plummeting to his death. He had voiced this concern earlier, but General Kol had belittled it, making him feel stupid.
The king missed his mother terribly. He had already grown disenchanted with war, although his ride out of Taiben had been glorious. Mounted on a black mare and resplendent in his new armor, he had felt very much the warrior hero. Crowds had cheered him. Shouts of encouragement and praise had swelled his heart. But the long ride to the pass had eroded that feeling.
A bitter wind had blown throughout the day. The meager winter sunshine hadn’t lessened the cold’s misery, and wearing metal armor increased it. The heavy chain mail sucked warmth from his body, despite the woolen garments he wore beneath it. The helmet was worse. His breath froze on it until his head felt surrounded by ice. The snow made progress painfully slow. When the road began to climb, snow also made the way treacherous. A sustolum in the king’s party had been crushed beneath his horse when it slipped and tumbled down a slope. An entire shieldron slid down the mountainside, triggering the avalanche that engulfed it.
As bad as these conditions were, others oppressed the boy king more. The soldiers grumbled and regarded him with resentment. Men who had cheered him in the courtyard began to call him “the brat” and “young snot-nose” within his hearing. The general ignored their disrespect, for he had changed also. That was perhaps the greatest blow. Once out of Taiben and among soldiers, General Kol was no longer the king’s solicitous friend. Instead, he acted as if he were the real ruler. He was still polite, but there was mockery in his formality. The king’s wishes were disregarded by both the general and his soldiers. Soon, he had come to feel that he was little more than baggage.
Heaped on those affronts and humiliations was another oppression, one that afflicted more than the king. There was uneasiness among the soldiers, an undercurrent impossible to ignore. The king became aware of it through the hushed talk and nervous glances of the men. The glances were always rearward. The soldiers appeared less afraid of what lay ahead than what trailed behind.
Once, when the winding road doubled back as it neared the pass, Kregant III caught a glimpse of
what followed the army. A group of men walked at a distance from the rearmost unit. They bore an enclosed litter. It was black, and the men were garbed in the same shade. They moved with a quality that evoked instinctive fear. The boy felt he was viewing walking corpses bearing an equally unnatural burden. The litter and its attendants terrified him, and he wasn’t alone in his reaction. The soldiers appeared frightened, too. Even General Kol seemed uneasy. It was the one thing the king and his general still had in common.
Soft winter daylight illuminated the room when Dar opened her eyes. Outside, snow was still falling. Nir-yat sat close by, her face anxious. Dar moaned, still thick with sleep. “I need bath.”
“I’ll come with you, Sister. There’s much to discuss. All our hall knows what you said to Tauma-yat’s sons.”
Dar jolted awake. I didn’t forbid them to speak! “Have they or Auk-goth yet returned?”
“Thwa.”
“Does our hall smell of fear?”
“That scent is thick.”
“I was tired when I spoke to Tauma-yat’s sons. This fear is my fault.”
“Sometimes it’s wise to be afraid. Fearless birds feed foxes.”
Dar smiled slightly. “So my oversight showed wisdom?”
“Everyone’s aware of our peril. I think that’s good.”
“It’s good only if I can lead them to safety,” said Dar. “I must decide what to do, then present my plan. But I’ll not do it reeking from my journey. I must bathe.” She sighed. “I suppose I should persuade Girta to join me.”
Nir-yat smiled. “Sev-ron has shown wisdom and convinced her to wash. She has done so already.”
“That’s pleasing news.” Dar rose. “Come, Sister, let us talk as I wash.”
Dar avoided the communal bath by using a tub in a room off her hanmuthi. While she washed, she and Nir-yat discussed what to do. There was hope that Kol’s army had not yet marched, but Dar thought it was unlikely. She decided to have Nir-yat determine how many sons could be gathered to defend the hall and what arms could be obtained for them. Meanwhile, Dar would meet with the Tok clan to find out if the pass could still be sealed.
Dar dressed. Then, accompanied by Sevren and her mintaris, she went to the Great Chamber and called for the Tok clan representatives. Two mothers and a son arrived. Dar had learned their names in advance, so she might greet them properly. Karam-tok was Muth-tok’s younger sister, and she possessed the same large, muscular frame as the matriarch. Karam-tok was accompanied by the Tok clan lorekeeper, an elderly mother named Gra-tok. The son, Tar-tok, wore a cape signifying leadership. He was the largest orc Dar had ever seen. Extremely tall, with arms much thicker than a man’s thighs, his body seemed shaped by working massive stones.
After the Tok clan members bowed and returned Dar’s greetings, Karam-tok spoke. “Muth Mauk,
we know why you’ve called us. Washavokis will invade through pass.”
“Now all can appreciate your grandmother’s wisdom,” said Dar. “That door must be shut. Lama-tok said it would take one or two days. Can it be done faster?”
“Sealing pass is complicated process,” replied Karam-tok. “Lines of deep holes were drilled into rock. Afterward, they were plugged. If those holes are filled with water, that water will turn to ice, expand, and split rock. Only then will sons be able to push rocks into passageway. Winter will make water freeze quickly, but it will also make holes hard to reach.”
“Water may split stones, but sons must still leverage them apart and push them into pass,” said Tar-tok. “That is hard work. It will take one day at least. I think two is more likely.”
Dar regarded the massive orc. “If you call that work hard, it must be hard indeed.”
“There is way to speed that work,” said Gra-tok, “but its outcome is less certain.”
All eyes turned to the Tok clan lorekeeper as she continued. “Holes were also drilled in peak short distance from pass. Rocks split there could be sent tumbling to start kokuum. Instead of sons, it could push loosened rock into pass.”
“Gra-tok is wise to say outcome is uncertain,” said Tar-tok. “Kokuum could make matters worse.”
“How?” asked Dar, who thought triggering an avalanche would be a perfect solution.
“It might miss pass or fill it only partly. Worse, it could stop short of pass and cover loosened rock. That could add many days to our work.”
“Slower way is surer way,” said Karam-tok.
Dar was pondering her choices when Nir-yat rushed into the chamber. “Muth Mauk! Auk-goth has returned!”