"'Ullo," said one of the Skandians in a low voice. "'Ere comes one of Morgarath's beauties."
The Wargal had stopped on the far side of the fire. He grunted something unintelligible at the group of sea raiders. The one who had just spoken shrugged.
"Sorry, handsome. Didn't catch that," he said. There was an obvious note of hostility in his voice. The Wargal seemed to sense it. He repeated his statement, growing angry now. Again, the circle of Skandian warriors shrugged at him.
The Wargal grunted again, growing angrier by the minute. He gestured at the meat hanging over the fire, then at himself. He shouted at the Skandians now, making eating gestures.
"Ugly brute wants our venison," said one of the Skandians. There was a low growl of dissent from the group.
"Let him catch his own," said the first man. The Wargal stepped inside the circle now. He had stopped shouting. He simply pointed to the meat, then turned his red, glaring eyes on the speaker. Somehow, the silence was more menacing than his shouting had been.
"Careful, Erak," warned one of the Skandians, "we're outnumbered here at the moment."
Erak scowled at the Wargal for a second, then seemed to realize the wisdom of his friend's advice. He gestured angrily at the meat.
"Go on then. Take it," he said curtly. The Wargal stepped forward and snatched the wooden spit from the fire, taking a huge bite at the meat and tearing a large chunk loose. Even from where he was lying, scarcely daring to breathe, Will could see the ugly light of triumph in the red, animal eyes. Then the Wargal turned abruptly and bounded out of the circle, forcing several of the Skandians to move hurriedly aside to avoid being trampled on. They heard his guttural laugh as he faded into the darkness.
"Damn things give me the heebies," muttered Erak. "Don't know why we have to have anything to do with them."
"'Cause Horth don't trust Morgarath," one of the others told him. "If we're not along, these damn bear-men will keep all the plunder for themselves and all we'll get is the hard fighting at the Plains of Uthal."
"And hard marching too," put in another. "Wouldn't be any fun with Horth's men either, working their way around Thorntree Forest to take the enemy in the rear. That's rough going, all right."
Will frowned as he heard that. Obviously, Morgarath and Horth, who, Will assumed, was a Skandian war leader, were planning another treacherous surprise for the kingdom's forces. He tried to picture a map of the countryside around the Plains of Uthal, but his memory was sketchy. He wished he'd paid more attention to the geography lessons Halt had taught him.
"Why is geography so important?" he remembered asking his teacher.
"Because maps are important if you want to know where your enemy is and where he's going," had been the reply. Glumly, Will realized now how right he had been. Halt had shaken his head at him then, in that mock serious way he had. Suddenly, thinking of his wise and capable teacher, Will felt very lonely and more than a little out of his depth.
"Anyway," Erak was saying, "things'll be different when Olvak's men get here. Although they seem to be taking their damned time about it."
"Relax," said the other speaker. "It'll take a few days to get five hundred men up them South Cliffs. Think how long it took us."
"Yeah," said another. "But we were blazing a trail. All they 'ave to do is follow it."
"Well, they can't get 'ere too soon for me," said Erak, rising and stretching. "I'm for sleep, lads, just as soon as I've done the necessaries."
"Well, don't do 'em 'ere by the fire," said one of the others irritably. "Go up behind them rocks there."
Horrified, Will realized that the Skandian had gestured toward the rocks where he was hiding. And now Erak, laughing at the other man, was turning and heading his way. It was definitely time to go. He scuttled backward a few meters, then, crawling rapidly on his stomach, used all his training and natural skill to blend with the available cover.
He'd gone perhaps twenty meters when he heard a splashing sound from the spot where he'd been eavesdropping. Then he heard a contented sigh and, looking back, saw the shaggy-haired form of Erak silhouetted against the glow of the hundred or so campfires in the valley.
Realizing that the Skandian was intent on what he was doing, Will slipped through the darkness and back into the tunnel. He went carefully for the first few meters, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light of the torches. Then he began to run, his soft hide boots making barely a noise on the sandy floor.
21
H E HAD FOUND H ORACE WAITING FOR HIM, HIS HAND READY on his sword hilt, where he had left him in the tunnel. "Did you find out anything?" the apprentice warrior whispered hoarsely. Will let go a pent-up breath, realizing that he'd been holding it for some time now.
"Plenty," he said. "All of it bad." He held up a hand to forestall Horace's further questions.
"Let's get back across the bridge," he said. "I'll tell you then." He glanced into the side tunnel where they had left the Celt miner.
"Have you heard anything more from Glendyss?" he asked. Horace shrugged sadly.
"He started moaning about an hour ago. Then he went quiet. I think he's dead. At least he died the way he wanted to," he said, then he followed Will back through the dimly lit tunnel to the bridge.
They made their way across the planking again, to where Evanlyn waited with the horses, well back from the bridge and out of sight. When they were close, Will called her name softly, so as to avoid startling her. Horace had left his dagger with Evanlyn and Will thought an armed Evanlyn would not be a person to approach unexpectedly.
As he described the scene at the other end of the tunnel, he hastily scratched a map in the sand for them.
"Somehow, we're going to have to find a way to delay Morgarath's forces," he said.
The other two looked at him curiously. Delay them? How could two apprentices and a girl delay five hundred Skandians and several thousand relentless Wargals?
"It hought you said we should get word to the King," Evanlyn said.
"We don't have time anymore," Will said simply. "Look."
They leaned forward as he smoothed over the diagram he had drawn in the sand and hastily sketched out a new one. He wasn't sure that it was totally accurate, but at least it included the most important features of the kingdom, as well as the Southern Plateau, where Morgarath ruled.
"They said they have more Skandians coming up the cliffs on the south coast-to join with the Wargals we've already seen. They'll cross the Fissure here, where we are, and move north to attack the barons in the rear, while they wait for Morgarath to try to break out of Three Step Pass."
"Yes," said Horace. "We know that. We guessed it as soon as we saw the bridge."
Will looked up at him and Horace fell silent. He realized the Ranger apprentice had something else to say.
"But," said Will, emphasizing the word and pausing for a moment, "I also heard them saying something about Horth and his men marching around Thorntree Forest. That's up here to the north of the Plains of Uthal."
Evanlyn grasped the point immediately. "Which would bring the Skandians northwest of the King's army. They'd be trapped between the Wargals and Skandians who have crossed the bridge and the other force from the north."
"Exactly," said Will, meeting her gaze. They could both appreciate how dangerous that situation would be for the assembled barons. Expecting a Skandian attack through the fenlands, to the east, they'd be taken by surprise from not one, but two different directions, caught between the arms of a pincer and crushed.