The Ironhand's Daughter

'How do we do this?' asked the boy who made the earlier jest.

'Your question is a good beginning,' Obrin told him. 'Understanding is the first key. All war is based on deception. When you are weak, you make the enemy think you are strong; when you are strong, make him think you are weak. When you are far away, make him believe you are near, and when you are near, lead him to think you are far away. The Outlanders did this to the Farlain.

Their scouts must have told them the clansmen were near, so they hid their cavalry and archers.

The Farlain saw the infantry occupying a weak position and attacked. In doing so, they walked into the iron jaws of the monster. We will not follow their example. We will fight on our own terms, choosing our own ground. If necessary, we will fight and run. We will make them the stag, and we shall be the wolves.

'To fight like this takes great discipline and enormous strength of heart, but it is the only way to win. Go now and talk amongst yourselves. Choose a unit leader from among you; he will be your officer. Pass the word to the other twenty-five groups. Tell them to appoint one man to represent them. Then I want all officers to report to me here at dawn tomorrow.'

As the men stood to leave Obrin lifted his hand. 'One more point, my lads. I am from a Highland people far to the south. We are called the Arekki. I am the only man of my clan within three hundred miles. I am Obrin, and I do not lie, cheat or steal. Not once in my life have I betrayed a friend or comrade, nor have I ever fled from an enemy. The next man to call me a traitor to my face will die on my sword. Go now!'

*

Sleeting hail beat against the windows as Asmidir sat at his desk with quill pen in hand, poring over maps of the Highlands. Two lanterns were glowing close by, casting gentle light on the sheets of paper littering the desk top. Asmidir stared hard at the lines on the ancient parchment, trying to picture the pass of Duane. Sheer to the east, mildly sloping to the west, it opened out into two box canyons and a long, narrow plain. Dipping his pen into the ink jar he sketched the pass, adding notations concerning distance and height.

Ari entered, still dressed in his armour of silver and black. He bowed. 'Shall I bring your food here, lord?' he asked.

'I'm not hungry. Sit you down.' The tall warrior pulled up a chair and sat. Leaning forward, Ari's dark eyes scanned the lines of the new map Asmidir was creating.

'Duane Pass,' he said. 'A good battle site - if the defenders number more than two thousand. Five hundred could not hold the ridges and would be flanked to the west. Cavalry would encircle them, then no escape would be possible.'

'Aye, it is a problem. We need more men. I'd give half of all I own to see Kalia here with her regiment.'

Ari gave a rare smile. 'Kalia and Sigarni? Panther and hawk. It would be ... interesting.'

'She is three thousand miles away - if she still lives. But you are right, it would be fascinating to see them together. Now, you know these maps as well as I. Where will the first attack come?'

Ari sifted through the sheets. 'They will bring an army to the first invasion fort. From there I would think they would swing north-east towards the deeper lands of the Farlain. They may even split then-force and push north-west into Pallides territory. I think you are right to choose Duane; it is three miles south of their first fort.'

Asmidir leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes. 'Duane is a natural battle site. The enemy trapped below with only one means of escape, the defenders with their backs to the mountains, able to slip away at the first sign of impending defeat. As you say, however, we need at least two thousand.

Where else?'

Ari shuffled through the maps. 'With five hundred? Nowhere.'

'Precisely my thoughts. And the Baron is no fool, he will know our approximate number. Son of a whore!' Lifting a detailed sketch of an Outland fort, he passed it to Ari. 'What if we took it before they arrived? They'd have no supplies. How long could we hold them?'

'Four or five days. But they have three supply forts, not one. They will merely send a force around us. And then there would be no escape for the defenders. No prospect of victory either.'

Asmidir pushed himself to his feet and wandered to the window. The snow was falling thick and fast, piling against the base of the leaded panes. 'My head is spinning,' he said. 'Tell me something good. Anything.'

Ari chuckled. 'Our enemy is the Baron. He is hot-headed and reckless. Better yet, he is impatient and will not give us respect in the first battle. That is an advantage.'

'That is true,' agreed Asmidir. 'But it is not enough to give him a bloody nose. The first battle must be decisive.'

'And that means Duane Pass,' said Ari.

'Which the Baron will also be aware of.' Asmidir shook his head and laughed. 'Are we being fools, Ari? Have we waited this long merely to stand and die on a foreign mountain?'

'Perhaps,' agreed the warrior. 'Yet a man has to die somewhere.'

'I'm not ready to die yet. I swore an oath to make the Outlanders pay for the rape of Kushir. I must honour it — or my spirit will walk forever through the Valley of Desolation and Despair.'

'I also swore that oath, lord,' said Ari. 'We all did. Now our hopes rest with the silver woman.'

Asmidir returned to the table and stared into the dark eyes of the man opposite. 'What do you think of her, Ari? Could she truly be the One?'

The warrior shrugged. 'I do not know the answer to the second question. As to the first - I admire her. That is all I can say.'

'It does not bother you that this Chosen One is a woman?'

'Kalia is a woman - and she has fought in many wars. And Sigarni's battle plan at Cilfallen was inspired. Fraught with peril - but inspired.'

Asmidir gathered up the maps and sketches. 'I must be heading back to the mountains tomorrow. I need to see her.'

'It will take around four days now,' said Ari. 'The snows have blocked many passes. Perhaps you should wait for more clement weather.'

'These mountains do not know the meaning of clement weather,' said Asmidir, with a wry smile.

'Even in summer the wind can chill a man to the bone.'

'It is a hard land,' agreed Ari, 'and it breeds hard men. That is another advantage.'

Another warrior entered and bowed. 'There is a man to see you, lord,' he said. 'He came out of the snow.'

'Do we know him?' Asmidir asked.

'I have not seen him before, lord. He is very old, and wears a cloak of feathers.'

'Bring him in.'

The warrior stepped aside and Taliesen entered. He did not pause or bow but strode straight to the table. Snow had gathered on his feathered cloak and his eyebrows and eyelids were tinged with ice.