Ordan looked at him. ‘My Lord?’ But Evison’s eyes showed he was in some other place. ‘My Lord,’ Ordan said again, more urgently, above the mounting clatter of activity that was filling the courtyard.
Abruptly, Evison jerked upright and stared at him, a distant look of recognition in his eyes. Then he seized Ordan’s arm and, limping slightly, dragged him into the castle.
Unable to resist his Lord’s urgent grasp, Ordan was pulled through familiar rooms and passageways in a strange, almost nightmare silence. Their journey ended in the Hall of the Four Guardians.
Evison walked purposefully over to an ornate cabi-net housing his family’s Festival Shrine. He stared at it for a moment, his face riven with conflicting emotions, then without warning he smashed the glass with his mailed fist. Before Ordan could speak, a second blow smashed into the shrine itself, splintering its delicate painted woodwork and sending its simple contents scattering.
Ordan stood aghast as Evison groped through the wreckage and, with an almost touching carefulness in his awkward gloved hand, picked up one of the fallen figures.
Ordan’s first thought was that his Lord had gone insane, but when he looked into his eyes, he saw cold reason underpinning pain and horror.
‘Commander,’ said the Lord, wrapping the figure in a blood-stained kerchief, ‘you understand what this is?’ He held out the small bundle. Ordan nodded and opened his mouth to speak but Evison cut him short with a wave of his hand, then taking hold of his arm began to manoeuvre him powerfully out of the hall. ‘Ask no questions, Ordan,’ he said, striding relentlessly, his face pained with the effort. ‘This is my last order to you. Every second means death for someone. Take this to Lord Eldric. He’ll believe me.’
‘My Lord… ’ Ordan protested, but Evison’s pace allowed him no pause.
‘No questions, Commander. Obey my order. Ride as you’ve never ridden. Destroy anything that stands in your way. Tell Eldric we have captives by way of proof, but… they… they’re coming after us.’ His voice faltered, and a look of disbelief washed momentarily into his eyes. ‘We’ll hold if we can,’ he said softly.
When they reached the courtyard it was choked with wounded and exhausted men, and more were straggling in through the open gate. Ordan hesitated, unable to accept what he was seeing, but Evison’s momentum propelled him forward irresistibly towards a fresh courier mount.
‘Go,’ Evison said. ‘Lord Eldric and none other.’
Still under the impetus of his Lord’s driving ur-gency, Ordan mounted the horse. For a moment he paused and looked down at Evison, hoping for some explanation, however brief. But the despair on the old man’s face would bear no interrogation. Very softly, Evison said, ‘My blessings will be with you, Ordan, but as you love and have served me, go, now.’
Then Ordan was galloping frantically through the gates and along the dusty road lined with bright sunlit flowers and filled with buzzing insects, his vision stained with the sight of the returning remnants of his companions and his ears filled with the sound of his Lord calling his quiet, ordered castle to Battle Stations.
On Yatsu’s command, the group filtered casually into the darkening streets in twos and threes. No sooner were they all out of the building, however, than there was a clatter of horses’ hooves behind them. Yatsu spun round in disbelief. He had checked the area only minutes earlier, and there were no patrols about.
The horses, however, were their own.
‘Not a bad bunch of nags,’ Serian declared to Hawk-lan patronizingly. ‘They’ll knock into shape. At least they do as they’re told.’
Hawklan looked at the powerful animal and then at the smaller mounts the Goraidin had stolen. I’ll wager they do, he thought, when you tell them. However, he kept his peace, knowing from past experience that it was unwise to become involved in debates with animals about their hierarchies.
‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Look after them, Serian. We need them.’
Yatsu was impressed and heartened. Being mounted from the start could make all the difference to their chances. ‘Have you any more surprises for us, healer?’ he asked.
Hawklan could not forbear a smile. ‘I’ve a friend in high places,’ he said, and raising his hand he signalled to Gavor circling high above. The raven glided down silently and landed on his shoulder. Yatsu started.
‘This is Yatsu, Gavor,’ said Hawklan. ‘You’ve seen what he’s done for us. I’ve accepted him as Commander, will you do the same?’
Gavor put his head on one side. ‘Very martial, aren’t we, dear boy?’ he said. ‘But whatever you say.’ Then, after pausing to give Yatsu a beady and unnerving look, he launched himself at the unsuspecting and bewildered Goraidin. Yatsu raised his hand instinctively, but Gavor avoided the manoeuvre and landed with wilful awk-wardness on his shoulder.
That, though, was the end of his clowning. Soon he was flying high above them and looking for patrols, floating down occasionally to alight on a post or low eaves from which he could speak to Yatsu without being conspicuous.
At Yatsu’s orders, some of the fragmented group were walking by their horses, some riding slowly, so that they could mingle more easily with the other traffic in the street. Such people as were abroad, however, were, for the most part, making for their homes after their day’s work, and were oblivious to other travellers. In addition, the Mathidrin uniforms, soiled though they were, tended to make passers-by avert their gaze and hurry past as quickly as they dared.
Gavor’s high-flying observations of the real Mathidrin patrols sent the group scurrying into byways several times but, on the whole, their journey was uneventful. It was not easy, however. They had a long way to go and the strain of maintaining a slow pace fatigued them almost as much as if they had been running.
‘This is loathsome,’ said Eldric. ‘Sneaking through Vakloss like thieves.’
‘Be quiet, Lord,’ said the Goraidin accompanying him, sharply. ‘Keep your eyes on the Commander.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Eldric said, genuinely. ‘An old man’s impatience.’
The Goraidin looked at him significantly. ‘Stay calm and watch, Lord,’ he said slowly and firmly.
Eventually they reached the far side of one of the great parks, and the tension eased a little.
‘There’s nothing near,’ Gavor said to Yatsu. ‘I think you should make some speed now. I’ll keep watching.’
Yatsu nodded, and swung up into his saddle. ‘Mount up,’ he said. ‘Let’s take our… scout’s… advice. There’s only one small group of houses to pass through and we’ll be in open country.’ He spurred his horse to a trot, glad to be rid of their slow progress. It was important that they be as far away as possible by dawn. Vakloss had a commanding and far-reaching view of the surrounding plain.
As they neared the houses, Gavor floated down out of the growing darkness and landed on Yatsu’s head. Bending forward he tapped his beak irreverently on the Mathidrin helmet.
‘Slow down a little, Commander,’ he said. ‘There are two cockroaches putting up a notice. They’ll be gone in a moment.’
Yatsu nodded. Gavor flapped his wings to regain his balance.
A small crowd had gathered when the group arrived. They were examining the notice to which Gavor had referred. Yatsu slowed his horse to an easy walk and led the riders quietly forward. Hawklan noticed that the light was different. Looking round, he saw the ubiqui-tous globes had been broken, and that the light was being provided by newly rigged torches similar to those he had seen in the house in Vakloss and, so long ago it seemed now, in Jaldaric’s tent. The light they emitted was less bright than that of the globes, but under it, details were more clearly visible and shadows less harsh. They enhance the darkness, he realized. He noted Isloman nodding to himself.
Yatsu followed Hawklan’s gaze. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Dan-Tor may have power but there’s been a lot of opposition in the past to many of his… improvements.’ He curled his lip in distaste as he said the word. ‘I think more will surface after the mess those burning workshops made.’