Agrasson indicated the army with a nod of his head. ‘They’re reply enough,’ he said impassively, adding scornfully, ‘It was thoughtful of you to bring your army to us, it’ll save us a great deal of searching.’
Hawklan nodded sadly. ‘Then carry a message to Creost for me,’ he said. ‘Tell him that Hawklan, the Key-Bearer of Anderras Darion, has pinioned Oklar and now comes to seek out the lesser Uhriel for an account of his misdeeds. Look at me, Toran Agrasson.’ His voice was soft but extraordinarily commanding and, reluctantly, Agrasson’s eyes met his. ‘Tell Creost there is no escape from the forces that have been set against him and that today he will be killed or bound.’
With an effort, Agrasson broke free from Hawklan’s gaze. ‘He’ll hear your message, horse rider, have no fear,’ he said. ‘And I’ll repeat my advice; seek earnestly to die today, Hawklan, Key-Bearer of Anderras Darion and speaker of fine words. Seek earnestly to die.’
Hawklan bowed slightly and, replacing his helm, began to walk Serian backwards. The Helyadin did the same, keeping their bows levelled at Agrasson and his companions until they were beyond bow shot.
‘I could have told you that would happen,’ Gavor said. ‘So could Loman and Isloman. All that lot under-stands is fighting.’
Hawklan handed the green flag to one of the Helyadin. ‘I could do no other than try, Gavor,’ he said. ‘Besides, I’ve left some darts of self-doubt stuck in some of them, and every little helps.’
Gavor condescended a cluck of mild approval.
Hawklan turned to Andawyr. ‘What did you learn?’ he asked.
Andawyr shrugged a little. ‘He’s there somewhere,’ he said. ‘But not truly exerting himself. I doubt he’s any idea of the threat we can pose.’
Hawklan nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Let’s keep it that way for as long as possible. But we have to face him today no matter what else happens, and I’d like to know where he is.’
‘He’s on that boat there.’ The voice was Gavor’s. He was nodding towards a small boat anchored off shore, well away from the other vessels that were plying to and from the islands.
Hawklan frowned at him. ‘I thought I told you… ’ he began, then with a resigned shake of his head, ‘Never mind… A seagull told you, I suppose,’ he said.
‘No,’ Gavor replied with some scorn. ‘They’re very dim. Not a thought in their heads except family squabbles and… fish. I found him on my own.’
‘They’re coming.’ One of the Helyadin ended this exchange.
Glancing back, Hawklan saw the great mass of the Morlider army moving forward again. He galloped Serian up to Loman who was waiting anxiously with a group of company leaders.
‘Are Dacu and all the Helyadin back? Hawklan asked.
‘With the cavalry on the left flank,’ Loman replied, pointing.
Hawklan nodded. ‘Isloman, Andawyr, Atelon and I will join them,’ he said. ‘We’ll stay there unless we’re needed. Have you worked out your battle plan?’
Loman looked around at the company leaders. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Unless you saw anything special down there.’
Hawklan shook his head. ‘They’re as nasty looking as you always told me. And strong, but nothing your rock heavers can’t handle. Their pikes aren’t as strong as ours by the look of them-and they’ve got a motley assortment of close quarter weapons so I doubt they’ve learned how to fight in phalanx other than with pikes.’
‘Good,’ said Loman, signalling his companions back to their posts.
Then he took Hawklan’s elbow and led him aside a little way. When he turned to speak, his eyes were fearful and his face grim, ‘Look how many there are,’ he whispered. ‘Can we truly win against such numbers. Can I… ’ His voice faltered.
Hawklan reached down to his quiver and drew one of the black arrows that Loman had made for Ethriss’s bow. He held it out in front of the smith.
‘In this, you made a weapon that brought down an Uhriel,’ he said. ‘A deed none other could have done.’ Then, motioning towards the army: ‘And in them, you, Gulda and all the others have made a weapon just as fine. You’ve talked and debated together, trained and shared hardships together, sought out and corrected flaws together just as you would at a Guild meeting. You’re many and yet one.’ He smiled. ‘Unlike me, your whole army’s already been told your battle plan by now and they’ll implement it because they’ll see its sound-ness.’ He raised an emphatic finger. ‘Or they’ll change it as need arises. And that change will accord with your will-you know that, don’t you?’
He paused and looked back at the approaching Morlider.
‘Unlike them. People who fight because they’re driven by fear or who fight for fighting’s sake. They understand nothing of the true purpose of combat; or why they’re here. Our cause, our understanding, our discipline, our training, our will; all these are superior to theirs.’ He turned back to Loman, his face purposeful and implacable. ‘Destroy these invaders, Loman, we’ve other battles to fight.’
Loman reached out and gripped Hawklan’s hand powerfully, then, without speaking, he spun his horse round and trotted back to Isloman and the others.
Hawklan remembered Loman’s concerned face as they had parted once before, outside Anderras Darion. Referring to the decision to train the Orthlundyn, Loman had said unexpectedly, ‘I’ve never had a tool on my bench that I haven’t used eventually.’
A perceptive and tragically accurate remark, Hawk-lan thought, as he watched Loman embracing his brother and exchanging battle farewells with the others.
His own reply returned to him.
‘All choices… carry responsibility… Having seen what we’ve seen and learned what we’ve learned can we do anything other than tell the people the truth and teach them what we can?’
He looked at the ranks of the Orthlundyn.
The people had chosen. Chosen to learn, chosen to face the truth, and chosen to defend what they valued.
Then a great certainty rose up inside him to shine like a dazzling summer sunrise.
And they had chosen to win this day!
Hawklan drew Ethriss’s black sword and held it high. Gavor rose powerfully into the air with a raucous, laughing cry and Serian reared and screamed his own challenge to the invaders of his land. Then overtopping both, and ringing out across the waiting people, Hawklan’s voice was heard, crying,
‘To the light!’
The cry spread through the army, washing to and fro like a great roaring wave.
Then, Hawklan and the others were galloping to join the Helyadin, Loman was shouting orders and the whole army began to move forward.
The long phalanx, sixteen men deep, moved forward very slowly, but the cavalry squadron guarding the right flank set off at the trot, leaving behind only a small flank guard. As they advanced, they gathered speed and took up a column formation as if to launch a direct charge against the centre of the Morlider front. The Morlider halted and their vanguard of archers prepared to greet this folly with the destruction it deserved.
Abruptly, however, while still out of range, the col-umn swung round and half of the riders dismounted. Within seconds, the defending archers found themselves under a hail of lead shot. At first there were few casualties as the Orthlundyn tested out the archers’ shield bearers. Then they began to concentrate their fire and casualties began to mount rapidly.
The Morlider began to move forward again; the skirmishing slingers were comparatively few and to remain stationary under their assault would have been to incur far more losses than if they kept moving.
The slingers held for a little while, still concentrat-ing on the destruction of the archers, then quickly retreated and remounted. The squadron, however, did not withdraw immediately. Instead, the second half charged forward and released three volleys of arrows in rapid succession.
Many of the arrows were brought down by the wav-ing pikes or deflected by shields, but many too found more effective marks.
Watching the foray, both Atelon and Andawyr started suddenly.
‘What’s the matter?’ Hawklan asked, concerned.
‘I think he has your message,’ Andawyr replied, a little breathlessly.