Her enthusiasm drained to its lowest point as the thought of a warm haven at home rose to tempt her. Then she swore loudly and angrily into the damp air and banged her fist against the rough bark of the tree until it hurt. There was no haven in this valley for her now. Her father’s house could no longer protect her, nor could anyone else’s. She had taken herself beyond the pale with her defiance and flight. Her place was here, no matter how grim and dismal it became. She had chosen sides. Chosen the side of those who had come in pursuit of Nilsson but who stayed now in order to make an attempt to slay Rannick and free the valley. They would be as cold and miserable as she, but she knew that they would stay here, in this alien valley, far from their own homes, until that attempt had been made and they were either successful or dead.
Her lip curled back and exposed her clenched teeth in unconscious mimicry of Nilsson’s familiar tic as her resolve renewed itself. She stamped her feet and rubbed her hands together, not so much because they were cold, but to remind herself to be alert, to let no part of her fall asleep.
And the action did indeed seem to clear her mind. The scents in the air became sharper, the noises of the dripping trees about her more distinct. As she took a deep breath she caught a slight movement in the corner of her eye. She turned towards it. A powerful hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her cry.
Nilsson looked around sourly as he emerged from his tent into the dull morning. He would have preferred to leave this task to Saddre or Dessane but Rannick had insisted that he oversee it personally, so he could look forward to at least the next few days under canvas and living off camp fare.
He smiled grimly to himself. Had he really adjusted to his changed circumstances so quickly? Only a few weeks ago, such a life had been all that he had known in years, and was all that he could look forward to until some random fortune favoured him, or one of his own men ended his concerns with a silent knife blade. And while that prospect had lain ahead of him, behind him had lurked the will of those against whom he and his men had fought. Fought cruelly, treacherously, and treasonably. And that will would be seeking for them always, he knew. It was the way of his people. All must account for their misdeeds, and neither distance, time, nor the shielding hand of others would diminish the demand for that accounting, or the resolution with which it would be sought.
The reflection made him feel better. No one would dare to test his right to leadership now; he had brought his men prosperity, and, too, as he had been before, he was the only one who truly had the ear of the power that underwrote their ambitions. And as for those who pursued him, let them come. They were as naught now. They would soon discover that events had come full circle and that what they had thought conquered was risen to challenge them again.
He looked up at the trees. These would do splen-didly. Tall, large-girthed and straight, they would provide ideal timbers for the siege machines, the wagons, the barracks, the fortifications, and all the other paraphernalia that would be needed for the army that was already forming about the nucleus of his own men. The army which, with him at its head and Rannick at its heart, would strike out from the valley to sweep aside the distant king and his feeble rump of an army and thence use the entire land as a base for the conquest of its neighbours and beyond.
The camp was already alive with noise and clamour, not to mention the smoke and smell of cooking fires.
‘A good site, Captain.’ Nilsson turned. The speaker was Yeorson, his naturally supercilious expression heightened by a crooked smile. ‘Plenty of fine trees here. It’ll be some time before we’ve stripped this place bare. And it’ll only take a week or so to cut a decent road back to the castle.’
Nilsson nodded. ‘We’ll use our new recruits to do most of the dirty work. We can make it part of their… initial training. It’ll also get the men used to command again. We’ve a long way to go in every sense and we’ve been neglectful of discipline lately. These new people need to learn our ways if they’re going to be any use to us.’
Yeorson’s smiled broadened. ‘I’ll set them to making a gallows, then,’ he said. Nilsson chuckled darkly. This was going to be a good day.
There being nothing to be gained by delay, working parties were busy clearing the camp site and preparing it for more permanent occupation within the hour, while others were set to work on removing the trees that stood in the way of an easier route back to the castle. The woods rang to the sounds of axes and saws, the groaning crashes of falling trees, and the cries of raucous, commanding voices. The smoke of a dozen or more fires blowing hither and thither, like frightened animals, before finally finding escape out into the dull morning air, gave testimony to the destruction of undergrowth and leafy branches and other unwanted timbers.
Within that same hour, Nilsson also casually stretched two of the new ‘recruits’ full length on the ground as that part of their ‘initial training’ that related to injudicious remarks about the distribution of labour within the hierarchy he was beginning to build.
He breathed in the smoky air, listened to the ringing din about him, and pensively rubbed his bruised knuckles. It was going to be a good day, indeed.
Chapter 23
‘Don’t scream,’ a voice whispered commandingly in Marna’s ear. ‘It’s me, Aaren. Do you understand?’
Marna nodded and mumbled behind the hand clamped over her mouth. Aaren slowly released her. Marna turned on her. ‘What did you do that for?’ she demanded. ‘You frightened me to death.’ She held out her hands; they were trembling. ‘And what are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were up past the castle somewhere. Did Nilsson’s men find you?’
Aaren offered no apology and answered only one of the questions. ‘I didn’t know it was you until I was on top of you,’ she said. ‘It’s the old man, Gryss, I wanted to see. He’s on his way up now and I couldn’t risk you – whoever you were – raising an alarm if I suddenly appeared. It is Gryss coming, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, probably, but…’
Aaren waved her silent. ‘Answers when he arrives,’ she said curtly, lifting a finger to her lips. ‘Right now, I need a little rest. That charade at the farm cost me some heart-searching before I saw what you were up to, I can tell you. It was well done.’ She crouched down and leaned back against the tree. She closed her eyes, and Marna saw her wilfully relaxing. ‘Keep watch,’ she said.
‘But…’
‘Ssh.’
Marna snorted and, still trembling a little, leaned back against the tree next to the resting figure. After a moment, she realized that she was pouting and made a deliberate effort to compose her features. Then all was quiet for a while save for the splashing of the rain through the trees.
Aaren’s eyes opened abruptly. ‘Someone’s coming,’ she said, cocking her head on one side. ‘It’ll be the old man.’ She stood up. ‘Introduce me to him.’ A gentle but definite push propelled Marna from the shelter of the tree.
‘Ah. You won’t make me jump this time, young woman,’ Gryss said, smiling.
Marna held out her arm towards the emerging Aaren. ‘This is Aaren, one of the four soldiers from Nilsson’s country,’ she blurted out, without preamble. ‘She wants to meet you.’
Gryss gaped while he took in this unexpected devel-opment, then his natural courtesy carried him forward. He extended his hand and smiled.
Aaren stepped forward and took his hand in both of hers. She bowed slightly. ‘We need your help, sir,’ she said, before Gryss could speak.
Gryss, still recovering himself, stammered slightly. ‘Of course,’ he said unthinkingly. ‘Marna’s told me everything about you. But I thought – Marna thought – you’d gone up past the castle to catch Rannick alone.’