‘They outnumber you, will outrun you, and will outfight you, Jaldaric,’ came the reply with a chilling certainty. ‘They’re used to mountains. This hill is nothing to them. If you surrender now, none of your patrol will be hurt, and you’ll be taken safely back to Vakloss for trial. If you fight, you’ll all die. Die without note and at little cost.’ Adding, almost as if by rote, ‘As will all Fyorlund’s enemies.’
Jaldaric shot him an angry glance. ‘If there’s fighting it’ll be of their starting, not mine,’ he said.
Urssain shrugged.
Inexorably the sound of the patrol grew louder; the sound of running feet filling the air like sinister drumbeats underscoring Gavor’s grim cries from high above.
Then it appeared. Isloman seized Hawklan’s arm, but Hawklan did not respond. His face was strained as if he were trying to remember something. Silently, however, he drew his sword. There was a quality in the action that chilled Isloman more even than the grim sight now slowing to a walk behind its mounted escort.
Here was the Mathidrin’s deep penetration patrol so unthinkingly launched by King Rgoric into Orthlund. Isloman was aware of gasps from the concealed High Guards as he took in the long, dog-like snouts, the evil eyes set close in fur-fringed faces, and that most distinctive and terrifying feature from the nightmares of all Fyordyn children-huge curved canine teeth.
Chapter 9
‘Mandrocs!’
Several of the High Guards involuntarily whispered the word as if for reassurance of the reality of what they were seeing. The word hissed and echoed around the trees.
Jaldaric, however, stood unmoving and apparently unmoved. He was young for a High Guard Captain and in his darker moments wondered if his rank were not due more to his father’s affection than his own ability. He was both right and wrong. Lord Eldric was too wise in leadership to subject his son to the burden of a responsibility he could not carry; and too caring of his men also. However, it was indeed his love for his son that had led Eldric to raise Jaldaric to be able to earn the rank he now held; and it was a measure of Jaldaric’s worth that his outward appearance now gave no indication of the waves of doubt and fear that were surging over him as he took in the terrible sight scarring the Orthlund tranquillity.
Slowly he drew his sword and raised it in the air. ‘Halt,’ he shouted.
The approaching patrol stopped and one of the horsemen came forward. His whole posture showed the marks of fretful journeying but, even against the background of the restless Mandroc patrol, he exuded menace. Jaldaric imperceptibly tightened his grip on his sword to prevent his hand shaking.
The rider, however, ignored him and addressed the waiting Urssain.
‘Captain Urssain, why do you and your men lounge in the sun when you were ordered to find the Lord Dan-Tor?’
The sound of the words gave Jaldaric the purchase he needed to still his mind. He did not wait for Urssain’s reply. ‘The Lord Dan-Tor has returned alone to Fyorlund,’ he said. ‘And your friend lounges in the sun at my suggestion. He found it preferable to lounging in an eternal darkness, which is where his conduct nearly brought him.’
The rider turned and stared at Jaldaric as if only just noticing he was there.
‘The Lord Dan-Tor has left, you say?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Jaldaric replied.
‘Alone?’ The man cast a swift glance at Urssain, who nodded. A brief spasm of irritation passed over the rider’s sallow face and he lowered his head thoughtfully. Then, apparently reaching a decision, he turned again to Jaldaric.
‘You’re Fyordyn, I see,’ he said. ‘And you’ve the arrogance of a lordling. You’ll be the traitor Jaldaric I presume.’
Jaldaric did not reply, but held the man’s grey-eyed stare firmly. For all his menace, he was at least human, and his hostility deflected Jaldaric’s mind from the implications of the waiting patrol.
The man walked his horse over to Jaldaric and, leaning forward slightly, bared discoloured teeth in a humourless smile. ‘My name is Aelang, Jaldaric. Commander Aelang. Mark it well. It’s probably the last pleasantry I’ll exchange with you.’ Without taking his gaze from Jaldaric’s face, he levelled a finger at the seated Urssain. ‘You’ve assaulted a Captain of the King’s High Guard, and you’ve drawn your sword against his Commander. These are serious offences and will be added to whatever others you’ve to face when we get back to Vakloss.’
Gavor’s cry floated down between the two men, and Aelang cast a brief irritable glance upwards.
‘I presume the rest of your men are skulking in ambush,’ he continued in a more conciliatory tone, waving his arm towards the surrounding trees. ‘Tell them to come out and lay down their arms-now-and we’ll forget this misunderstanding. Don’t resist whatever you do.’ Conspiratorially he indicated the waiting Mandrocs with his eyes.
Aelang’s affectation of comradeship broke Jaldaric’s restraint. ‘What is this… this obscenity, Aelang? Mandrocs, armed and liveried! Mandrocs!’ He could barely utter the word. ‘And pretending to be a King’s High Guard no less.’ His tone was acid. ‘Do you take me for a child? The Mandrocs are to be confined to Narsindal. The Law forbids them even to enter Fyor-lund, and you bring an armed troop of them into Orthlund-Orthlund of all places. If anyone’s to stand account in Vakloss, it’ll be you, if you’re responsible for any part of this nightmare.’
Waiting in the shade, Hawklan felt thoughts coming from deep inside him. Run, Jaldaric. Retreat. Regroup. Don’t stand. But he could not speak the words.
Aelang listened to Jaldaric’s outburst with an air of waning patience. ‘You don’t listen, Jaldaric. I’ve said I’ll not bandy words with you. You’ve been away too long. The King holds all power now. To defy me is to defy the might of the new Fyorlund, a might uncluttered by ancient Lords and their endless prating, a might which can defend Fyorlund against our real enemies.’ Then he leaned forward again and spoke more softly. ‘Use your sense, man. If you renounce the old order and join with us, there may be hope for you. If you resist… ’ He shrugged significantly.
The combination of wild-eyed fanaticism and self-seeking ambition in the man’s tone stunned Jaldaric and he stood for a moment in bewildered silence.
Then he shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘This is mad-ness. You’re lying. How could the King seize all power to himself? And what enemies has Fyorlund that would require aid from… ’ He looked at the sinister waiting group. ‘The very reason for the existence of High Guards is the restraint of the Mandrocs.’
‘And to guard against the Second Coming of Sumeral,’ sneered Aelang. ‘You’ll believe fairy tales before you’ll believe political reality. That’s why the King’s taken power. Fyorlund can’t afford such as you guarding its interests.’ The jibe stung Jaldaric. He seized the horse’s bridle. ‘If the King’s done this, it’s because he’s a sick man and has probably been coerced by others. Such an act would break not only the Law but the faith of countless generations. But I don’t intend to argue the point. Consider yourself under arrest. Disarm these animals now, surrender your sword and prepare yourself to return with me to Vakloss to face the Geadrol and account for this horror.’
Aelang snatched the bridle from Jaldaric’s hand, causing the horse to shy and Jaldaric to step back.
‘I weary of you, boy, and I’ll not be thanked for delaying to remonstrate with the unredeemable. Surrender now or my patrol will root out your compan-ions and slaughter them.’
‘Hold,’ cried Jaldaric. ‘We’re no ordinary patrol. We’re the Lord Dan-Tor’s escort, and I also have archers with me.’ The man steadied his horse and looked uneasily from side to side. Jaldaric followed his thoughts.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you’re right. We could leave two dozen of your… your creatures dead before they even reach us, and that’ll improve the odds a little, won’t it? And we’ve allies from Orthlund.’
Aelang cast a glance at Urssain, who nodded again. Jaldaric continued quietly but purposefully. ‘But that’s of no concern to you, is it? Your Mandrocs are only here to absorb shot. They fight with crushing numbers and mindless ferocity if my… fairy tale books tell me true. More to the point is what you’ve already worked out. You and the other men will die first if we’re attacked.’