‘You recognized them for certain?’ Darek said, cran-ing forward and staring through the rain.
‘Oklar without a doubt, Lord, though he was out of his brown robe, and fully and foully armoured,’ Yengar replied. ‘The other two were also armoured but I knew them from the descriptions we got in Riddin.’
‘What about Him?’ Hreldar asked.
Yengar shook his head. ‘Even to my eyes, those three stood stark and unnatural against all the others,’ he said. ‘There was no fourth figure.’ He paused and then spat. ‘But His flag was there. The One True Light-a silver star on a golden field.’
The Lords seemed disturbed by this display of emo-tion from their Goraidin, but Loman nodded and looking round again, smiled. ‘Your people carry your ancient flag too, Goraidin. The Iron Ring on a red field. And the Muster have the flags of their houses.’ He winked. ‘And the flags of their cousins, and cousins’ cousins,’ he whispered.
Yengar’s sourness faded before Loman’s light touch and he laughed a little. ‘But no flag from Orthlund,’ he said.
Loman smiled and shrugged. ‘We never got round to it,’ he said. ‘We’re not soldiers really. We’ll ride to His flag and kill anyone who stands in the way.’
Yengar laughed out loud, then stopped abruptly. He closed his eyes briefly. ‘The ground,’ he said. ‘The ground a few hundred paces in front of their line. It’s been disturbed and they’ve tried to cover it up I’m sure. There’s something wrong there. Yes-definitely.’
‘Pits, trenches, to stop the cavalry?’ Loman offered.
Yengar shook his head. ‘It could be, but I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘The rock’s very near the surface here. We found it difficult to cut good observation trenches, that’s why we couldn’t get too near.’ He gathered up his reins. ‘I’ll see if we can get closer. Don’t send anyone in until you hear from us.’
Loman nodded and Yengar galloped off.
‘Good advice, I think, Lords,’ Loman said to his companions. ‘Shall we continue slowly?’
The great line clattered into motion again.
‘No changes of heart about our tactics, Lords?’ Lo-man asked as they rode forward.
All four shook their heads. ‘More than ever, we’re right,’ Hreldar said. ‘From what we’ve seen of the Mandrocs I can’t see them yielding until they’ve been utterly crushed. And against that number we’ll have to crush them quickly if they’re not going to curl round and envelop us.’
Loman looked up into the rain. The sky overhead was grey and lowering.
Is there enough water there to wash away the blood that must be spilt today? he thought. Hawklan, An-dawyr, in the name of pity, stop this if you can. I want to get back to my forge and my true life.
It was the only time that day that Loman allowed his thoughts such a longing departure from the field.
‘What’s Yengar doing?’ Arinndier asked, peering into the distance.
Loman wiped the rain off his face and followed the Lord’s pointing hand. He had presumed that Yengar would fade quietly into the landscape to rejoin his colleagues in some secret observation post, but the Goraidin was trotting straight towards the enemy’s centre.
Loman turned and signalled urgently to Oslang. The Cadwanwr broke ranks and galloped forward.
‘Protect him,’ Loman said pointing towards the distant figure of Yengar.
Oslang opened his mouth to speak.
‘He’ll take his chance against arrows and swords,’ Loman said urgently. ‘But protect him from the Uhriel. It’s important.’
As he spoke, Yengar halted some way in front of the great horde. The allies’ army continued to move relentlessly forward.
Yengar drew his sword, made a sweeping ceremo-nial salute, and began to parade up and down in front of the enemy. The rumble of distant voices began to make itself heard over the footsteps and rattling tackle of the advancing army.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Arinndier exclaimed. ‘He’s doing a formal sword drill.’
As they watched, Yengar continued brandishing his sword and moving his horse to and fro: cut to the left, to the right, change hands, repeat, protect the head, protect the flank, change hands again, swing low out of the saddle to take a fallen weapon, to the right, to the left, on and on, the manoeuvres becoming progressively more complex and faster. The horse too twisted and turned, as it galloped round and round in increasingly wider patterns. Then, with the horse rearing, he hurled the sword into the air several times, each higher than the last, finally sending it up in a great spinning arc, and galloping beneath to catch it as it tumbled back down.
It was an impressive display and an involuntary cheer went up from those in the army who could see what was happening.
Yengar completed his performance with another ceremonial bow to the enemy, backing his horse away as courtesy dictated.
There was no response from the Mandroc army other than what appeared to be jeers and cries of abuse but, as Yengar finally turned to leave, Oklar raised a hand towards him. Loman became aware of Oslang beside him breathing deeply.
Yengar’s horse suddenly tumbled, throwing him. The Goraidin rolled over several times and lay still. The sound of a distant triumphant roar reached the advancing army and there was a brief but perceptible surge in the enemy ranks. Oslang winced as if he had been struck, then he swore and, closing his eyes, extended both arms with his hands palm upwards. It was a gentle, open gesture, but Loman sensed the power being released next to him and found himself holding his breath.
Then he saw Oklar clearly. The Uhriel’s horse reared, and Oklar himself raised a hand suddenly as if to protect himself from an unexpected blow. Yengar’s horse struggled to its feet and began running away from the enemy. As it passed the motionless form of the Goraidin, Yengar surged up and began to run alongside it. For a moment, he seemed to be struggling for a grip, then he bounced twice off the sodden ground and swung up into the saddle.
As Yengar galloped a zig-zag course away from him at full speed, Oklar regained control of his mount, but he did not seem inclined to resume his assault on the fleeing Goraidin.
Loman looked at Oslang.
‘He may have been bound at Vakloss, but he’s bound no more,’ Oslang said, squeezing his palms together as though in pain. ‘And he’s angry now. He didn’t expect to be so accurately thwarted in his petty spleen.’ The Cadwanwr scowled. ‘I presume that was done for a good reason, Loman, but send no more out on such antics,’ he concluded. ‘The cost of protecting them is too high, and they’ll learn too much about us. I must return to the others now. The assault will begin in earnest soon I fear.’
‘It was for a good reason, Oslang,’ Loman said qui-etly. ‘Thank you for what you did.’
Yengar did not return directly but seemingly fell exhausted from his horse near an advanced group of skirmishers who ran to tend to him. Eldric started forward, but Loman stopped him. ‘He’s all right,’ he said. ‘He’s found something and he doesn’t want to be seen bringing it directly to us.’
The army moved on, and the rumble of the Man-drocs grew louder and louder. Gradually, the familiar ‘Amrahl, Amrahl’, began to punctuate the noise at regular intervals.
After a while, Yengar, on a different mount, emerged casually from the ranks alongside a messenger and rode up to Loman.
He was still trembling.
‘That was bravely done,’ Loman said. ‘But you owe your life to Oslang as well as to your horse and your wits. Thank him when you see him.’
‘I will,’ Yengar replied. ‘It’s Oklar’s touch that’s still making me shake. It was appalling. I’ve never been so frightened.’ He shuddered. ‘Then someone… some-thing… lifted it from me like a spring breeze. I’m sorry if it’s caused problems but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. We couldn’t get closer and I needed to see that ground. To be honest, I didn’t think he’d bother to attack one foolish posturing soldier.’
‘Never mind,’ Loman said. ‘What did you find?’
A few minutes later, after some coming and going of riders, the four Lords, their red cloaks resplendent even in the grey rain, were galloping to their respective units.