‘Why couldn’t we see these things for what they were?’ he said.
Neither Loman nor Isloman offered an answer.
Loman dismounted and joined Hawklan. Stooping stiffly, he picked up a rusting blade and held it for a moment. He smiled faintly and looked up at his brother. ‘The metal’s righting itself,’ he said. ‘Probably the other stuff is as well. But the misuse was great. It’ll take a long time.’
Isloman nodded.
Hawklan sensed the lingering aura of Tirilen’s pro-tective words, and renewed them with his own. On an impulse he drew his sword and held it over the little pile while he spoke them.
Then the three of them headed north along the Pedhavin Road.
Within half a day, they encountered Ireck’s party galloping purposefully towards the village. Sweating horses and stern-faced men milled around as the two groups met, and Hawklan took his horse to Ireck’s side to hear his news.
The villagers had met the Fyordyn only a little dis-tance away from the camp where Loman and Isloman had been held. The High Guards were neither pursuing the brothers nor fleeing homewards. Jaldaric had been coldly formal and dismissed the villagers with a casual indifference verging on contempt.
‘None of our business, he said. He had his orders and we’d be well advised to stick to our farming if we knew what was good for us.’ Ireck’s quiet voice was full of rage and frustration. He took Loman’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Loman,’ he said. ‘I’ve let you down. I tried to talk to him, to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t even tell us how Tirilen was.’ He paused and looked upwards. ‘Eventually I threatened him. Told him we’d return, with you, and armed.’
‘And?’ asked Hawklan.
‘He laughed, Hawklan. Just looked at us and laughed.’ Ireck clenched his teeth. ‘I turned and rode away without any more ado. Some of the younger ones were getting too angry and there’d have been bloodshed there and then. I’m sorry, Loman,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. My head says yes, but my stomach says no. We’re going back to the village now to get the rest of the men, and arm ourselves.’
Loman shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not until we’ve thought about all this a little more. You were right at the beginning and you were right when you left their camp. If violence is all we’re left with, then it mustn’t be in the heat of passion. That barrel’s not easily plugged once tapped. For our sakes and for theirs, we must overwhelm them completely before they can act. That way there’s less chance of death and injury. Hawklan?’
Hawklan nodded in agreement. He swung down slowly from Serian, and led the horse over to a nearby stream, his face thoughtful.
‘You didn’t see Tirilen?’ he asked.
Ireck shook his head in confirmation.
‘Did they give you any idea where she was?’
‘No,’ said Ireck.
Hawklan patted the drinking horse’s neck and gazed down into the stream. Quietly, one by one, all the men dismounted and left their horses to graze and drink. The air was full of bird-song and breeze-blown seed, and an atmosphere of unreality and uncertainty seemed to spread over the group as if the spring day would not allow them to sustain their anger once they were free of the pounding urgency of the unfamiliar horse riding.
Loman took Ireck’s arm and, together with Isloman, they joined Hawklan on the banks of the stream.
Eventually Hawklan spoke. ‘Horsemen, soldiers such as you’ve described, could have outrun you easily if they’d wished. It seems strange to me that you caught them in the first instance and then that you escaped them so easily. And now Ireck’s group has found them just as easily. We must presume that they’re neither running nor hiding, but waiting.’
‘For what?’ asked Isloman.
‘Not for what, Isloman, but for whom,’ replied Hawklan. ‘It’s me they want, or somebody wants. But who it is, or why, is beyond me. I’m driven across mountains to find an answer to some devilment I can scarcely even define, only to find more devilment and more questions. Then, when I escape that snare, a more earthbound, ordinary trap is laid for me.’
The three men looked at him silently.
‘I’m being lured into something, my friends. Some-one fears me, or at least fears what I might once have been. Someone evil. I’d be easier in my mind if I knew why I was so precious and why I’ve to be taken by stealth. But taken I have to be, there can be no doubt about that.’ He slapped his hand against his leg and straightened up briskly. ‘I weary of defence,’ he said. ‘Laying traps for me is one thing, using those I love as bait is another. We must move on to the attack and lay this villain by the heels before he does something even worse.’
In a nearby tree, Gavor flapped his wings noisily and laughed. The soft spell of the spring sunshine dispersed and the group seemed to take on a purpose again.
‘Ireck,’ said Hawklan forcefully, ‘Go back to the village with your men. Arm yourselves and then head for the High Guards’ camp. Make no effort at conceal-ment. Look as fierce as you like, but… ’ He raised his hand in a cautionary gesture. ‘Don’t attack them. Keep them at a safe distance, unless Gavor brings you a message expressly to the contrary.’
Ireck seemed inclined to demur.
Hawklan silenced him gently. ‘No, Ireck,’ he said. ‘Do nothing other than as I’ve said.’ He glanced up towards Gavor, who floated silently down and landed on his shoulder. ‘We four will go ahead and do what we can by stealth. If we’ve not achieved anything by the time you arrive, then perhaps your arrival will cause a diversion and give us the opportunity. And, if by some chance we’ve been hurt or captured, Gavor will at least tell you what our position is.’
Ireck still seemed inclined to argue, as did one or two others in the group, but their erstwhile healer was exuding an authority that would brook no further debate. Nodding reluctantly, Ireck mounted his horse silently and signalled to the others to follow him.
When Ireck and the villagers had ridden into the distance, Hawklan turned to Loman and Isloman, grim-faced. His forced confidence had fallen away from him.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘I’m pinning my faith in you two old soldiers knowing something, preferably a lot, about stealth. I don’t think Ireck will be able to control the younger men if anything happens to us, and I don’t want those High Guards massacring half the village.’
Chapter 5
Continuing their northward journey, Hawklan was surprised at the subtle changes he noted in his two friends. It was as if knowledge long dormant were re-awakening. He reminded himself that the two men had travelled widely and fought bitter battles shoulder to shoulder in the past, and that they could not have survived such experiences without developing traits which necessarily would not be apparent in their normal peaceful daily lives. Both sat easier in their saddles, and the anxiety that had lined and furrowed their craggy faces ever since they had met in the mountains gave way periodically to looks of a grim purposefulness that chilled Hawklan, so alien was it to his understanding of the two men.
Worse, however, was the occasional gleam of antici-pation he caught in their eyes, though he himself had to admit that his concern for Tirilen was at times forgotten in unexpected moments of exhilaration as Serian carried him steadily forward through the sunlit countryside.
The rhythmic pounding of the horses’ hooves, the soft spring breeze blowing in his face, the endless variety of the Orthlund countryside, with its meadows and leas, streams and rivers, forests and arbours, all combined to dispel pain and fretfulness for unmeasured and effortless miles. But to the east were the mountains; white-tipped peaks and heavy shoulders hulking against the blue sky. Their silent, timeless vigil reproached him when unexpectedly he found himself relishing the deeds that were to come.