Brude and Elyn stood in silence, gazing at the maps. “It be your first command, Warrior Maid,” said Brude at last. “What be your choice?”
Elyn’s answer was a long time coming, yet at last she responded: “I cannot do aught about snow melt and spring rains, nor about raging rivers and sliding mud. But ambushes I understand, and to be forewarned is to be fore-armed. I would choose Render’s Col as my route, and defang any ambuscade ere it had a chance to be sprung.”
At Brude’s grin, Elyn knew that she had passed her first test of command.
Long into the night they planned, the experienced Brude giving canny Elyn his advice, in turn delighting at her apt turn of mind. Yet there came a time that Brude yawned and stretched. “Ah me, my Lady, but this old warrior needs his rest. I know that you would rather decide all things this very nighttide, every question answered, each plan complete, but we must needs get some sleep. Fear not, Warrior Maid, we shall speak at length many times ere you depart.”
Scrutching through the snow on her way back to her quarters, Elyn was deep in contemplation, reflecting upon all that she and Brude had said. Suddenly, she shivered, and Elgo’s face came unbidden to her mind, wrenching her out of the tracks of her thoughts, her heart hammering wildly, as if a doom faced not only her twin, but all of Jord as well. And without conscious volition, she looked upward, and still the werelight in the skies above bled a ruddy red.
At last spring came, with snowmelt and rain and flowers in its train, followed swift upon by the arrival of the relief. No trouble had been encountered by them in Rendor’s Col, yet along this marge of Kath, trouble could come at any time.
Elyn had made final her plans, consulting with Brude every step of the way. Two Lieutenants were selected from among those returning warriors who would ride in her care, and they joined in the deliberations. At last all was deemed accounted for, and two weeks later, the column of fifty set forth for Aranor’s holt, Elyn of Jord at its head. She had gone to the garrison as a scout and messenger, and now returned as a fledgling commander.
Slowly through the upland hill country they wended: warriors, horses, pack mules. And ranging far ahead and aflank fared the outriders, the scouts. Spring rain beat down upon them all, and everywhere they looked, green sprigs of an awakening land greeted them. And in spite of the cold downpour, Elyn’s heart sang with the turn of the season.
Four days they rode ere coming into the jagged lands, their course restricted ever more by the crags about them. They were aiming for the slot of Render’s Col, a slot leading down unto the wide grassy plains of Jord. Still the chill rain fell about them, and they wearied of its incessant beat. But, as the col, with its cover of tangled forest, hove into sight, hearts beat all the quicker, and breath came in shorter gasps. The close-set trees were still barren in their winter dress; even so, the crags were so thickly wooded that an entire army could lie concealed within, foliage or no.
“Galdor, take your four and scour the left; Brenden, you and yours take the right.” Elyn but repeated what everyone knew, yet somehow her crisp words fell fresh upon heightened senses as the plan unfolded.
Into the slot rode the ten Harlingar, splitting in twain and fading into the bare-branched woods thickset upon either side. Now the main column paced forth, bows at the ready, spears, sabers, long-knives at hand. Slowly they stepped along the way, and Elyn could now see just why this was called Render’s Col.
Into the gap they rode, and around them the crags loomed threateningly, the trees clawing at the wet sky above. And now and again Elyn could see one or more of the scouts, and they used hand signals to note that all was well.
Down the length of the pass they fared and out; no ambuscades were set this rainy day.
At one and the same time, Elyn felt both relieved and disappointed: relived that no foe lay in wait; disappointed that no foe lay in wait. As Galdor and Brenden rejoined the column, Elyn thought, This must be as much of War is: that careful plans are laid for which there is no execution; that stratagems are conceived which are never used.
Before them, beyond a long series of down-stepping hill-sides, they could see the great Jordian oceans of grass, still yellow from the long winter sleep, yet patches of green even now mottling the ’scape. And down into this great wide land rode the column of Vanadurin.
“What? Gone to face Sleeth? When?” It was early evening, and Elyn sat before a warming fire with her sire, Aranor. She had arrived at the castle but moments before, and had been greeted with open arms by the King. He had drawn her into his private quarters, travel stains and mud-splatters notwithstanding, shouting for the servants to bring food and drink, and to summon Arianne and Mala. And when she had asked about Elgo, that was when she had discovered that her brother fared on a mission to slay Sleeth.
“Aye, Daughter, he’s gone on that mission of his,” said Aranor, pouring a goblet of wine, mulling it with spices and a hot iron from the fire, handing it to Elyn.
“But a Dragon, Father, a Dragon!” exclaimed Elyn. “Ruric told us long ago that no Man has e’er slain one. Has Elgo gone mad?”
Aranor laughed. “Nay, Daughter, not mad. List, Elgo’s plan be sound, for it is the very hand of Adon, Himself, that will strike the Drake down.”
“But Ruric said-” Elyn began.
“Ruric fares with him,” interrupted Aranor. “He agrees that Elgo and his Warband will succeed. And so do I. Hai, Elgo, Sleeth’s Doom!” Aranor quaffed his own goblet in salute to his son.
Servants bustled in with food and drink, while Elyn’s thoughts whirled. “What do you mean, Father, that Adon, Himself, will strike the Drake down? How can that be?”
And as Elyn sat and listened, King Aranor explained Elgo’s plan. And during the telling, fair Arianne, Elgo’s wife, entered the room bearing Bram and sat quietly, rocking her sleeping baby.
“. . And so you see, Daughter, he had to leave ere now to be at Blackstone at Mid-Year’s Day, when the Sun rides the sky longest.” Aranor leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his white-streaked coppery hair-he was a Man now in his late fifties, yet still slim and hale and fit. “By Kalgalath, I would have gone, too, but someone needs must run the Kingdom.”
Elyn noted for the first time that Arianne and Bram were in the room, the wee bairn now aslumber upon the soft cushions of a nearby window seat, the exquisite Arianne sitting pensively, her long wheaten hair falling down o’er eyes the color of a pale blue sky. And Elyn stood and embraced her brother’s wife, feeling Arianne’s tiny frame trembling in fear. “Worry not, my sister,” whispered Elyn, “ ’tis a good plan Elgo follows. List, he would have taken me had I been here in time.”
Spring came green and stepped into summer, and Elyn could often be found afield with Arianne and Bram, flying Redwing, the hawk she had raised from a chick. At times Mala and others accompanied them, for Mala was an avid falconer, and in spite of her disapproving nature, she often contributed greatly to the training of hunting birds. And when it came to these excursions out upon the wide grassy plains, Bram was a delight, and a true son of Elgo, the golden-haired babe now a toddler, gurgling in pleasure at the swooping of the red hawk, uttering a language that he alone understood, while reaching out to grasp at the fierce bird’s plumage. Arianne protected him from himself, speaking to him of talons and beaks. And during these talks he would gaze intently at his mother as if he truly understood, but straightaway would turn and reach out for the bird once more.
On Mid-Year’s Day, a feeling of anxiety ran throughout the castle, for this was the day that Elgo’s plans called for the assault upon Sleeth. Yet there was nought that any could do to ease the tension, except Elyn drilled especially hard at swords that day, causing her opponents to marvel at her skill.