'Will Treaty!' he bellowed, startling the gulls for a fifty-metre radius into squawking, screeching flight. Will braced himself as the huge figure approached. He knew what was coming but there was little he could do about it.
Sure enough, Gundar swept him off his feet in a breath-draining bear hug. Will could only grunt a greeting as he felt his ribs on the verge of giving way.
'Gorlog's beard, boy, but it's good to see you! I hoped we'd run across each other when Erak assigned us as the duty ship. How have you been? What have you been up to?'
'Le' go an' I'll try…tell you,' Will managed to grunt breathlessly. Finally, Gundar set him down. Will staggered as Gundar released him, and his friends were a little alarmed at the groaning intake of breath that was Will's first, reflexive response as his emptied lungs desperately sucked air back in.
Then, sighting Alyss, the huge seafarer seized her hand in one of his enormous fists and planted a smacking, clumsy kiss on it.
'Lady Alyss!' he boomed. 'How can you have grown more beautiful than you were?'
Evanlyn, it has to be admitted, pouted a little at this. Gundar had never commented on her looks and she was aware that alongside the elegant blonde girl, she was a little…tomboyish.
Alyss was grinning delightedly at him. 'Ah, Gundar, I see you haven't lost any of your courtly charm. You'd turn a girl's head with that silver tongue of yours.'
He beamed at her, then turned his attention to the grey-bearded, slightly built figure standing behind her.
'And you must be the famous Halt?' he said. 'I expected someone a little larger,' he added, half to himself, as he advanced.
Halt, experienced in the ways of Skandians, retreated at the same pace. 'Yes. I'm Halt,' he said. 'And I need all my ribs intact, thank you very much.'
'Of course you do.' Instead of bear-hugging Halt, Gundar contented himself with a firm, manly handshake. Halt's eyes glazed as he felt his fingers and knuckles crushed inside the island-sized fist. He shook his hand painfully as Gundar finally released it.
'Any friend of Erak's is a friend of mine!' Gundar glanced around curiously. 'But where's that shaggy pony of yours, Will?'
'We left our horses in Araluen,' Will told him.
Since the trip had been intended as a brief, ten-day mission to the Toscan capital, there had been no good reason to bring Tug and Abelard. They had been left in the care of Old Bob, the Ranger Corps horse breeder. Now, Will wasn't sure if he regretted that decision or not. He'd like to have Tug with him, but the sea journey to Nihon-Ja would be a long one, far longer than any Tug had undertaken before. There would be little chance of going ashore to exercise the horses, and he wasn't sure how they would have coped.
Similarly, Ebony, Will's dog, had been left behind with Lady Pauline. Ebony was only half trained and he felt her boisterous behaviour might cause problems with the rather starchy Toscan officials.
Gundar nodded vaguely. He had no idea of the soul searching that had gone on with the two Rangers before they decided to leave their horses behind. He glanced up the quay.
'And who's this Lenny Longshanks?' he said. 'Is he with you?'
The four Araluans turned quickly to look back up the jetty. Striding purposefully towards them, a pack slung over one shoulder, was a tall, slender figure.
'Temptation got too strong,' Selethen told them as he came closer. 'I decided to come with you.'
Nihon-Ja After George left them and headed down the back trail towards the port of Iwanai, Shukin picked up the pace.
Now, as they kept their horses in a steady canter along the narrow, muddy mountain track, Horace realised just how much George had been slowing them down and felt a guilty sense of relief that he'd convinced his fellow countryman to go his separate way.
The rest of the party, all of them skilled horsemen, managed easily and the local ponies, somewhat smaller than the battlehorse that Horace was used to, were sturdy and long winded. Best of all, he thought, as his mount slithered, slid and then recovered himself, they were sure-footed beasts, well used to these sloping, rough mountain trails.
One of the escort noticed the stumble and saw Horace suddenly sit up straight in the saddle before the horse recovered his footing. He rode up close beside him.
'Leave it to the horse, Or'ss-san,' he said quietly. 'He's used to this sort of terrain and he'll manage by himself.'
'So I noticed,' Horace said, between clenched teeth. When the uneven ground gave under his horse's hooves again, he forced himself to remain loose and supple in the saddle, instead of tightening his muscles and bracing himself, and trying to haul the horse's head back up again. The horse grunted as he recovered. Horace had the uncomfortable feeling that it was a grunt of grudging appreciation, as if the horse were saying to him: That's better. Just sit easily, you big bag of bones, and leave the work to me.
He reached forward and patted the horse's neck. The animal responded by shaking its head and mane.
They rode on, maintaining a steady canter for half an hour, then letting the horses walk and trot for the next twenty minutes. It was similar to the forced march pace of the Rangers, which Horace had learned from Halt and Will in their travels together. And while at first he begrudged the time spent at the slower pace, he knew that in the long run they would cover more distance in a day this way.
The sun was a milky presence, glowing weakly through the scudding grey clouds that passed over them. When Shukin judged it was pretty well directly overhead, he signalled a halt at a spot where the trail widened and formed a small, level clearing.
'We'll eat and rest for a short time,' he said. 'That'll give us and the horses a chance to recover.'
They unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down. In this weather, it wouldn't do to leave the sweat on them to dry and cool in the chill wind. While this was going on, three of the servants unpacked food from the panniers they carried behind their saddles. By the time the riders had tended to their horses, the food was ready, and the servants had a fire going to make tea.
Horace accepted a plate of pickles, smoked trout and spiced rice rolled into balls, and made his way to a level patch of ground. He hunkered down on a fallen log, groaning slightly as his knees and thighs let him know how hard they had been working. It was pleasant to rest for a few minutes, he thought. He just hoped that the brief stop wouldn't be enough to let his muscles stiffen. If they did, the first half hour on the trail again would be torture. He resolved to get up and walk around the clearing once he had eaten.
The food was good. Light, tasty and with a welcome tang. Horace looked at the size of the helping on his plate. The Nihon-Jan were, on the whole, a small race. He felt he could have happily dealt with a much larger portion of lunch. Then he shrugged philosophically. He always thought that, wherever he was and whatever he was given.
Shukin, having checked that Shigeru needed nothing, had done a quick tour of the temporary camp, ensuring that all the men were eating and none of the horses had developed problems. Then, when he was satisfied, a servant handed him a plate of food and he sank down on the log beside Horace. The Araluan noted glumly that Shukin, used to sitting cross-legged on the ground since childhood, showed no sign of stiffness or discomfort as he sat.
'How far do you plan to go today?' Horace asked him.
Shukin screwed up his face as he considered the question. 'I had hoped to cross the Sarinaki River,' he said. He indicated the direction they had been travelling in. 'It's another twenty kilometres uphill from here. There's a waterfall with a crossing just above it.'
'We should be able to make that distance,' Horace said. 'We've got another five hours of daylight, at least.'
'Depending on the trail,' Shukin told him. 'It's relatively easy going at the moment but it gets steeper and rougher in a few kilometres. That will slow us down.'