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"We have a true advantage. The Ska are few in number. They cannot afford large losses, and this is our strategy: to maximize their losses and to minimize our own. That means: strike and break away! Attack! Retreat! Attack again! With the strictest attention to orders! Let us have no heroics, no proud gallantries: only competence and toughness.

"There is no more to be said. Good luck to us all."

Four of the Ulfish companies and the two companies of Troice heavy cavalry, under the command of Sir Redyard, departed into the northeast, where they would guard the road between Suarach and Castle Sank. The other companies set off to the north toward Castle Sank itself, across a landscape of which Aillas already had bitter experience.*

*See LYONESSE 1: Suldrun's Garden, where the circumstances of Aillas' sojourn at Castle Sank are chronicled in detail.

Sank served as an administrative node for the district and as a waypoint for labor-gangs and slaves on the way to the great western fortress Poelitetz. The household at Sank, during Aillas' stint as a domestic slave, consisted of Duke Luhalcx, his spouse Chraio, their son Alvicx, their daughter Tatzel, with numerous retainers. Aillas, dejected and lonely, had become to some extent infatuated with Tatzel, who, by the very nature of things, barely noticed his existence, if at all.

Tatzel at the time had been fifteen years old: a slim girl of verve and flair who carried herself in a jaunty carefree manner unique to herself: a style purposeful, extravagant and exuberant, if somewhat too abrupt and personal to qualify as pure grace. Aillas saw her as a creature luminous with imagination and intelligence, and he found every detail of her conduct entrancing. She walked with steps somewhat longer than necessary, with a kind of reckless swagger and an expression of pensive concentration and purpose, as if she were bound on a mission of the utmost importance. In typical Ska style her black hair was cut ear-length but retained enough curl to flow loosely. While slender and energetic, her contours were adequately rounded and feminine, and often, as Aillas watched her saunter past, he ached to reach out and seize her. Had he performed so rash an act and had she reported it to her father, he might well have been gelded, and he carefully kept his inclinations in check. Tatzel would now be in Skaghane with her family: a fact which caused Aillas more than a twinge of disappointment, since to meet Tatzel again under changed circumstances had been for a long period the stuff of his day-dreams.

As the moon rose into the sky the columns departed Doun Darric. Aillas planned to march by night, with moonlight to show the way and scouts to warn of bogs and quagmires. During daylight hours, the troops would take concealment in a copse or a fold of the moors. If not intercepted or distracted by unforeseen circumstances, Aillas estimated that four nights of marching should bring the expedition close to Castle Sank. The land had been ravaged; they would meet no one along the way excepting a few crofters and small herdsmen, who cared nothing for the passage of troops by night, and Aillas had reason to hope that his band might arrive at Castle Sank unheralded.

Toward morning of the third day scouts led the troops out upon the main road leading down from the old tin mines: a road sometimes used by the Ska on forays into South Ulfland: a road which Aillas had once walked with a rope around his neck.

The troops took shelter and rested during the day, and at sunset continued their march. Still they had encountered no Ska parties, either small or large.

Shortly before dawn an odd droning rasping sound was heard in the distance, which Aillas recognized and identified: the voice of the sawmill, where heavy steel blades ten feet in length were driven up and down in reciprocating motion by the power of a waterwheel, to cut planks from pine and cedar logs carted down from the high Teach tac Teach by timber-cutters.

Castle Sank was close at hand. Aillas would have preferred to rest his troops after the night's march, but now there was no effective cover. By proceeding they would arrive at Sank during that languid hour before sunrise, when blood ran slow and responses were sluggish.

Not so in the South Ulfish troops; with pulses pounding they came at speed down the road, hooves slurring in the dust, harness jingling and metal clanking, dark shapes hunching across the pre-dawn sky.

Ahead loomed Castle Sank with a single great tower rising from the central citadel. "Straight on!" Aillas cried out. "Drive inside before they drop the outer gate!"

Fifty horsemen charged in a sudden pounding lunge, with the foot soldiers running behind. In their arrogance the Ska had neglected to swing shut the timber and iron doors in the outer walls; the Ulfish troops burst into the courtyard unchallenged. Before them the portal into the citadel and the inner castle also stood wide, but the sentries, recovering from their initial immobility, reacted and the portcullis slammed down in the face of the charging knights.

From their barracks came a dozen Ska warriors, only half-dressed and half-armed; they were cut down and the battle, such as it was, came to an end.

On the walls of the citadel archers appeared, but the Ulfish archers, mounting the outer wall, killed several, and wounded several more, and the others took to cover. From the citadel a man jumped out on the roof, ran crouching to the stables, where he seized upon a horse and pounded away across the fells. Aillas ordered pursuit. "Chase him a mile or two, then let him get away. Tristano! Where is Tristano?"

"Here, sir." Tristano was the second in command.

"Take a strong force to the sawmill. Kill the Ska and whoever resists you. Burn the warehouses and break the wheel, but leave the mill intact; someday we will find it useful. Work swiftly and bring back the labor-gangs. Flews! Send out scouts in all directions, that we may not be surprised in our turn."

The outbuildings, shops and sheds surrounding Castle Sank gave birth to soaring flames. The castle horses were led from the stables, which were also burned. The man-hunting dogs were destroyed, and the kennels put to the torch. From the dormitory at the back of the kitchen garden came the household servants, and the dormitory was fired.

The household slaves were brought before Aillas. He looked from face to face. There: the tall bald man with the vulpine yellow-skinned face and drooping eyelids: that was Imboden, the major domo. And there: the slender handsome man with the mercurial flow of expression and the prematurely silver hair: he was Cyprian, the slave superintendent. Aillas knew them both for sycophants who used the men under them for their own advantage.

Aillas motioned them to step forward. "Imboden, Cyprian! It is a pleasure to see you! Do you remember me?"

Imboden spoke no word, aware that words were useless no matter what the identity of the man who addressed him; he looked up toward the sky as if he were bored. Cyprian was more sanguine. He studied Aillas and cried out in glad surprise: "I remember you well! Though now your name escapes me. Are you bent on suicide, to have returned like this?"

"That I am here is the stuff of desperate longing and hope fulfilled!" declared Aillas. "Do you remember Cargus, who was cook? And Yane, who worked in the laundry? How they would rejoice to be here today, rather man in Troicinet, where both command the rank of ‘earl.' "

Cyprian, smiling easily, said: "I can imagine your satisfaction! It is shared, to greater or less degree, by all of us! Hurrah! We are now free men!"

"For you and Imboden freedom will be short and bitter."

"Come, sir!" cried Cyprian in anguish, his great gray eyes moist. "Were we not all comrades in the old days?"

"I remember very little comradeship," said Aillas. "I remember the constant fear of betrayal. How many men you have sent to their doom no one will ever know. A single one would be enough. Flews, throw up a gibbet and hang those two high, in full view of the citadel."