Seemingly oblivious to the cold wind that was blow-ing over the snow-covered landscape, she stood for a long time rapt in who knew what thoughts.
Suddenly she started. Hawklan was speaking to her.
‘The Alphraan carry my voice, Gulda,’ he said. ‘We are needed in Riddin. Begin the levying of the army and select those who can march across these mountains.’
Gulda cocked her head on one side, as if testing the sound she was hearing, then, without speaking, she turned and walked towards the door that would lead her down into the Castle.
Chapter 12
Pandemonium was well established when Hawklan and the others returned to Anderras Darion on the day following their meeting with the Drienvolk, and it continued steadily for the next few days. On receiving Hawklan’s strange, disembodied instruction, Gulda had immediately sent messages to all parts of the country and gradually the chosen contingents were beginning to converge on the great Castle, bristling with arms and supplies, and with just enough enthusiasm and curiosity to keep their alarm at bay.
At a brief council of war, Hawklan told of the strange meeting and of Ynar’s message that the Morlider islands and a great armada were gathered off the northern shore of Riddin.
‘It’ll be a difficult journey,’ Loman said. ‘A forced march across the mountains and right across Riddin in far from ideal conditions.’
No one disagreed. ‘I don’t think we’ve any alterna-tive,’ Isloman said. ‘If what that Morlider-Drago-said about his people being united and learning to fight with some semblance of discipline is true, then the Muster’s going to be hard pressed especially in this weather. Good infantry can stand off cavalry and defeat it if their nerve holds. And if the Morlider have numbers and Creost… ’ He left his conclusion unspoken.
By now familiar with the open speaking of his hosts, Agreth was only mildly defensive at the suggestion that the Muster was anything other than invincible. ‘It’s a fine infantry that’ll stand long against our charges,’ he said. ‘But I agree, if they have the advantages you suggest, then we’ll be hard pressed.’
Later, alone with Andawyr and Gulda, Hawklan discussed the route that Ynar told Gavor the Morlider Islands were apparently taking.
‘Why would they come so far north?’
‘They probably think they can establish a good base before the Muster catches wind of them,’ Gulda suggested unconvincingly. ‘It’ll also give them the mountains to their back. Make it harder to flank them.’
Hawklan pulled a sour face. ‘It also gives them the Pass of Elewart at their back, and it cuts off the Cadwanol,’ he said, looking at Andawyr.
Andawyr shrugged. ‘I doubt Creost knows the Cad-wanol still exists, let alone where,’ he said. ‘At least I hope so. More importantly, it occurs to me that they might be expecting reinforcements down the Pass.’
It was a grim thought. Hawklan scowled. ‘It’s also an escape route into Narsindal for Creost if anything goes wrong,’ he said. Then, slapping his knees impatiently, he stood up. ‘Still, I think we’ll be wasting our time worrying about Creost’s strategic thinking. If he’s expecting reinforcements then all the more reason we get over there quickly, and if he’s got any escape routes planned let’s make sure he can’t use them.’ He looked at Andawyr darkly and his voice was suddenly cold.
‘He’s your province, Andawyr. According to Dar-volci, the Alphraan have their… ways… open as far as the Caves so presumably you can ask them to send a message of some kind. Rally your people’s every resource. I want Creost bound or dead at the end of this venture.’
With difficulty, the Cadwanwr held Hawklan’s men-acing gaze, but he did not reply.
Hawklan walked to a window and stared out. ‘If Riddin falls then not only do we lose a massive cavalry force, which will be vital in Narsindal, we’ll have to tie down most of our own army simply guarding our borders. We’ll have to meet Creost and the Morlider head-on and crush them utterly. Whatever the cost of success it can’t begin to compare with the cost of failure.’
Gulda grimaced. ‘What about your own plans?’ she said, turning away from Hawklan’s cruel summary.
‘They’re unchanged,’ Hawklan said. ‘In fact, moving to oppose the Morlider gives us a legitimate reason for being in that area if Sumeral has spies there. We’ll have to judge the situation as we find it, of course, but if all goes well, we should be able to slip away to the Caves and thence to the Pass at some juncture.’
Then the countrywide uproar faded and a substan-tial part of the Orthlundyn army stood ready at a temporary camp just outside Pedhavin, fired by Hawklan’s determination and anxious to begin its desperate trek across the mountains.
‘You have our best there,’ Gulda said quietly as Hawklan prepared to mount Serian. He nodded but did not speak. Instead he looked up at the Castle Wall towering high above him, massive and solid against the grey sky. It was snowing a little and a few flakes settled on his face and slowly melted. For a moment a terrible pain showed.
‘The Alphraan will tell you of our progress while we’re in the mountains,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I leave the disposition of all the other troops with you and Lord Arinndier. See what reply Eldric sends to our news then head into Fyorlund as soon as you can. The people know what to do if things go wrong. The castle’s well stocked and self-sufficient… if… ’ His voice faded.
Gulda shook her head reproachfully. ‘We’ve been over this ten times, Hawklan,’ she said. ‘We all know what to do. Take care.’ Then she stepped forward and embraced him. As she released him, Hawklan felt his arm held in a merciless grip and his eyes pinioned on her blue-eyed stare. ‘Ethriss go with you, prince,’ she said. ‘You and I will meet again at Derras Ustramel. We’ll end this horror either dead or with His head impaled on your sword.’
Then, without further comment, she turned and stumped back towards the Castle Gate. Hawklan watched her go, shaken by the terrible passion of her unexpected declaration. He was uncertain how long he stood there but suddenly he found Tirilen standing in front of him. She had been saying farewell to her father and her uncle and she was weeping, though not pettishly or with a clinging heart. A healer herself, she knew it was the only release she had for the measureless sorrow and pain she felt, and she knew not to deny it.
Hawklan wanted to say something, but he found no words that would do anything other than rattle vainly in the cold winter air. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She placed an arm around his neck and held him for a moment.
‘Take care,’ they both said simultaneously. Then Tirilen turned to follow Gulda, and Hawklan swung up onto Serian.
‘Carry me to my army, Muster Horse,’ he said. ‘My legs unman me.’
The journey through the snow-clogged mountains proved to be quite as difficult as had been envisaged. The path to Riddin was not designed to accommodate an army, and the several thousand troops were soon spread out along valleys and ridges in a thin, rambling line.
‘I’m glad we don’t have to guard our flanks in this terrain,’ Hawklan said to Isloman as he reached a prominence and stared back at the great winding procession.
Necessarily, progress was slow and careful as they had brought no carts and for the most part each individual was carrying his or her own equipment and supplies, although the few hundred horses they had brought for the use of scouts and skirmishers served as useful pack animals also.
For the first few days the weather confined itself to bright sunshine and occasional light falls of snow, and the natural good spirits and camaraderie of the marchers lessened the effects of the cold and the discomfort. As they climbed steadily towards the heart of the mountains however, the weather deteriorated markedly and the wind began to whip the snow into a dense, obscuring blizzard.
For a while the long twisting line eased forward, but as the light began to fail, Hawklan brought it to a halt, and gradually a thin, blurred skein of beacon torches began to thread its way through the white-streaked darkness as the army gratefully pitched camp.