But there was nothing he could do, he knew. His authority was vested in him through the congress of the men and, while he could manipulate it, to attempt to overrule it would be to undermine his own position, perhaps fatally. This group had decided freely to scout a route to the north and he could not oppose them. All he could do was hope that whatever Rannick intended would not be too disastrous.
At the head of the column he found Haral. That was both fortunate and unfortunate: unfortunate in that Haral was a good man, fierce, determined, straightfor-ward and definitely not a man to be casually discarded. Fortunate in that he saw things for what they were and would not needlessly risk either himself or the men under his command. He was brave enough to know when to fight and when to run. It gave Nilsson some assurance.
He waited until the confusion had died down a little, then he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. The courtyard gradually fell silent, and all attention turned towards him.
The rain became heavier and the muddy stars joined to become a pattern of shining stones.
‘You’ve had your debate and made your decision,’ he said. ‘You might be right, you might be wrong. So might we who’re staying back. But whatever, we still belong together, so I’ll be sending out smaller patrols to keep your line of retreat open and, if need arises, to act as rearguard.’ He stepped back a few paces so that he could see the full column. He could not speak of his forebodings, but at least he could counsel caution.
‘I don’t know what there is out there,’ he went on. ‘But I want no risks taken, nor any stupid heroics. You ride equipped for action at all times. You ride in close order and you camp in close order. And you post sentries in pairs.’ There were one or two wry faces pulled at these orders. He singled them out. ‘You getting yourself killed is bad enough, but you know what’ll happen if you get someone else killed because of your stupidity.’ His voice was soft, but more intimidating than any amount of raucous shouting.
Still addressing the whole column, he said. ‘Haral, do your best to get everyone back in one piece. If any of them choose to ignore the orders I’ve just given…’
He drew his finger across his throat.
Haral gave him a casual salute then the column was on its way. Nilsson followed them to the gate and stood there for some time watching until they disappeared in the undulating countryside, itself slowly disappearing into grey swathes of wind-blown rain.
He became aware of a presence behind him.
‘A horse, Captain.’
He turned. It seemed to him that Rannick was un-touched by the rain, and again that he was being buffeted by winds in another place. There was an eerie sensation of movement about him even though he was motionless.
‘You startled me, Lord,’ he said.
‘A horse,’ Rannick repeated.
‘Certainly, Lord,’ Nilsson said. ‘But, with respect, they don’t seem to take to you.’
‘They obey me,’ Rannick replied. ‘That’s sufficient.’ Nilsson signalled to Dessane. ‘Escort the Lord to the stables, Arven. Let him pick whichever horse he wishes.’ He turned back to Rannick. ‘Do you need a pack horse, Lord?’
Rannick did not reply, but motioned Dessane to lead on.
Nilsson watched as the men in the courtyard moved away as Rannick approached, forming a wide pathway for him. Stand well aside, or look to die, he thought.
Chapter 20
Haral’s group made good progress. It helped, of course, that several of the men had travelled this way before, and that the trail was well marked. He kept Nilsson’s injunction at the forefront of his mind however. He didn’t like the smell of this so-called Lord Rannick with his claims to have the power like their old lord. That he’d doubt until he’d seen it for himself, but he had no doubts that the man was treacherous and self-seeking and was up to no good, and that he would undoubtedly have something in mind for the group as it moved further into the forest.
Inherit our master’s mantle, he sneered inwardly. You’ll need more than fancy words if you’re looking to inherit anything other than a shroud, meddling with us. Half a chance and I, for one, will gladly cut your throat for the trouble you’ve already caused.
And, yet, it couldn’t be denied that there was some-thing familiar about his manner, his attitude…
And Nilsson was no man’s fool. He wouldn’t be taken in lightly by some market trickster. And he’d been closer than many to the Lord. And to Rannick.
Suppose this Rannick could use the power? He was obviously a healer of some skill, judging by what he’d done for Meirach, and the Lord had been a healer when it suited him. It was an intriguing thought, and, like Nilsson, Haral found it fanning a glow into embers that he had thought long dead. With someone like that in charge you could do well for yourself. He savoured again the near-forgotten feeling of riding forth, tall in the saddle and looking down at a population that knew that your every word was law and that your arm could punish faults summarily and without appeal.
Good days. It would be truly splendid to have them back again. Provided you didn’t get involved with internal army politics and did as you were told, almost anything you wanted was available for the taking. Life had been good indeed.
With a snort he dismissed his daydream. They were days that were gone for ever. Rannick no more had the power than he did. That kind of thing wasn’t given to ordinary folk. It was given to those who already had power and wealth. That was the way of things. All that lay ahead of him and the others now was more of what they had been doing for the past years: wandering, stealing, acting as bodyguards for some petty warlord here, fighting as mercenaries for some inconsequential lord there, never knowing where the next night’s bed might be, or when they might next eat. And always looking over their shoulders for those who were pursuing them. It was a bitter prospect and one that he did not choose to dwell on whenever it came to mind.
To hell with Rannick and the disturbance he’d caused. He looked around. The rain was falling relentlessly, and cold water which had been seeping around the collar of his leather cape for some time was now beginning to seep through the seams.
It helped him turn his attention back to matters of the moment. Whatever, if anything, was amiss in this forest, it would be foolish to spend too much time in idle musing about either the past or the future.
Though they had made good progress they were still some way from the place where they had camped previously, and there was little point in forcing the pace in an attempt to reach it. He called a halt in a small clearing and within minutes tents had been pitched and fires coaxed into smoky life.
Despite Nilsson’s orders, there was some resistance to the performance of sentry duty. Haral quelled it scornfully with, ‘You want this Rannick to cut your throat while you’re snoring and then go back and take charge of all that loot, claiming to be the Lord returned, and the only possible protection against the curse of the ancient forest?’
The sentries took up their positions as the camp gradually fell silent.
Haral performed a brief circuit of them before he too retreated to his tent.
‘I don’t know what this Rannick’s up to,’ he told them. ‘But it’s for his good, not ours. He’s playing for some big prize of his own and I don’t think he’ll scruple to kill a few of us if it’ll help him, especially as we’ve defied him. He’s not stupid and this is his country, so keep out of sight, keep your backs covered and keep your eyes and ears open.’
Now!
It was released again. A wordless command had given it his unfettered will. Find, kill…
The thought released old savours into its mouth.