WILL'S HEAD ACHED ABOMINABLY. A CONSTANT, RHYTHMIC thudding pounded through his skull, setting flashes off behind his tight-closed eyes. He forced his eyes open and found himself staring close range at a sheepskin vest and the back of a pair of leather-bound woolen leggings. The world was upside down and he realized he was being carried over someone's shoulder. The thudding was the sound of the man's feet as he jogged along. Will wished he would walk.

He groaned aloud and the jogging stopped.

"Erak!" the man carrying him called. "'E's awake."

And so saying, the Skandian lowered him to the ground. Will tried to take a pace, but his knees gave out and he sank to his haunches. Erak, the leader of the group, leaned down now and examined him. One thick thumb caught hold of his eyelid and he felt his eye being opened wide. The man wasn't cruel. But he was none too gentle either. Will recognized him now as the Skandian who had come so close to discovering him when he was eavesdropping by their campfire in the valley.

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. "Concussed, most likely. That was a good throw with that rock, Nordal," he said to one of the others. The Skandian he'd spoken to, a giant of a man with his blond hair in two tightly plaited braids that were greased so they swept upward like horns, smiled at the praise.

"Grew up hunting seals and penguins that way, I did," he said, with some satisfaction.

Erak released Will's eyelid and moved away. Now Will felt a gentler touch on his face and, opening his eyes again, found himself looking into Evanlyn's eyes. She stroked his forehead gently, trying to clean away the dried, matted blood there.

"Are you all right?" she said, and he nodded, then realized that was not a good idea.

"Fine," he managed, fighting back a wave of nausea. "They got you as well?" he added, unnecessarily, and she nodded. "Horace?" he said softly, and she put a finger to her lips.

"He got away," she whispered. "I saw him running when the bridge collapsed."

Will sighed with relief. "We did it then? We got the bridge?"

This time it was Evanlyn's turn to nod. A smile even touched her lips at the memory of the bridge cras.h.i.+ng into the depths of the Fissure.

"It's gone," she said. "Well and truly."

Erak heard the last few words. He shook his head at them.

"And no thanks you'll get from Morgarath for that," he told them. Will felt a small chill of fear at the mention of the Lord of Rain and Night's name. Here on the plateau, it seemed somehow more ominous, more dangerous, altogether more malevolent. The Skandian glanced at the sun.

"We'll take a break," he said. "Maybe our friend here will be up to walking in an hour or so."

The Skandians opened their packs and produced food and drink. They tossed a water bottle and a small loaf of bread to Will and Evanlyn and the two ate hungrily. Evanlyn began to say something, but Will raised a hand to hush her. He was listening to the Skandians' conversation.

"So what do we do now?" asked the one called Nordal. Erak chewed a piece of dried cod, washed it down with a gulp of the fiery liquor he carried in a leather bottle and shrugged.

"For mine, we get out of here as fast as we can," he said. "We only came for the booty and there's going to be precious little of that now that the bridge is gone."

"Morgarath won't like it if we pull out," warned a short, heavily built member of the party. Erak simply shrugged.

"Horak, I'm not here to help Morgarath take over Araluen," he replied. "Neither are you. We fight for profit, and when there's no profit to be had, I say we go."

Horak looked down at the ground between his feet and scratched in the dust with his fingers. He didn't look up when he spoke again. "What about those two?" he said, and Will heard a sharp intake of breath from Evanlyn as she realized the Skandian meant her and Will.

"We take 'em with us," said Erak, and this time Horak looked up from the dust, where he was drawing senseless patterns.

"What good are they to us? Why shouldn't we just hand 'em over to the Wargals?" he asked, and the others mumbled their agreement. It was obviously a question that had been on their minds. They'd simply been waiting for someone else to bring it up.

"I'll tell you," said Erak. "I'll tell you what good they are to us. First and foremost, they're hostages, aren't they?"

"Hostages!" snorted the fourth member of the group, the one who so far hadn't spoken. Erak rounded upon him.

"That's right, Svengal," he told him. "They're hostages. Now, I've been on more raids and in more campaigns than any of you and I don't like the way this one's shaping up. Seems to me like Morgarath's been getting too clever for his own good. All this leaking false plans and building secret tunnels and planning surprise attacks with Horth and his men coming around Thorntree Forest-it's too complicated. And complicated isn't the way to go when you're facing people like the Araluens."

"Horth can still attack around the Thorntree," said Svengal stubbornly, but Erak was shaking his head.

"He can. But he won't know that the bridge is gone, will he? He'll be expecting support that will never come. I'll wager Morgarath won't hurry to tell him. He knows Horth would give it all away if he found out. Let me tell you, it'll be the toss of a coin to see which way that battle goes. That's the problem with these clever-clever plans! You take away one element and the whole thing can come cras.h.i.+ng down."

There was a short silence while the other Skandians thought about what he had said. A few heads nodded in agreement and Erak continued.

"I'll tell you, boys, I don't like the way things are shaping and I say we should take the chance to get to Horth's s.h.i.+ps through the fens."

"Why not go back the way we came?" asked Svengal, but his leader shook his head emphatically.

"And try to get down those cliffs again, with Morgarath after us?" he asked. "No, thank you. I don't think he'd take too kindly to deserters. We'll go along with him as far as Three Step Pa.s.s, then once we're in the open, we'll head east for the coast." He paused to let this sink in. "And we'll have these two as hostages in case the Araluens try to stop us," he added.

"They're kids!" said Nordal derisively. "What use are they as hostages?"

"Didn't you see that oakleaf amulet the boy was wearing?" Erak asked, and instinctively, Will's hand went to the oak leaf on the thong around his neck.

"That's the Ranger's symbol," Erak continued. "He's one of them. Maybe some kind of trainee. And they look after their own."

"What about the girl?" said Svengal. "She's no Ranger."

"That's right," Erak agreed. "She's just a girl. But I'm not handing any girl over to the Wargals. You've seen what they're like. They're worse than animals, that lot. No. She comes with us."

There was another moment's silence as the others considered his words. Then Horak spoke. "Fair enough," he agreed.

Erak looked around at the others, and saw that Horak had spoken for them all. The Skandians were warriors, and hard men. But they weren't totally ruthless. "Good," he said. "Now let's get on the road again." He rose and moved toward Will and Evanlyn while the other Skandians repacked the remains of the brief meal. "Can you walk?" he asked Will. "Or does Nordal have to carry you again?"

Will flushed angrily and rose quickly to his feet. Instantly he wished he hadn't. The ground heaved and his head swam. He staggered and only Evanlyn's firm hand on his arm prevented him from falling. But he was determined not to show weakness in front of his captors. He steadied himself, then glared defiantly at Erak.

"I'll walk," he managed to say, and the big Skandian studied him for a moment, an appraising look in his eye.

"Yes," he said finally. "I daresay you will."

28.

BATTLEMASTER DAVID CHEWED THE ENDS OF HIS MUSTACHE as he frowned at the plan outlined on the sand table. "I don't know, Halt," he said doubtfully. "It's very risky. One of the first principles of warfare is never to split your forces."

Halt nodded. He knew the knight's criticism was intended to be constructive, not simply negative thinking. It was Sir David's role to find any faults in the plan and weigh them against its possible advantages.

"That's true," the Ranger replied. "But it's also true that surprise is a powerful weapon."

Baron Tyler walked around the table, considering the plan from another viewpoint. He pointed with his dagger at the ma.s.s of green that represented the Thorntree Forest.

"You're sure you and Gilan can guide a large cavalry force through the Thorntree? I thought n.o.body could get through there," he asked dubiously, and Halt nodded.

"The Rangers have charted and surveyed every inch of the kingdom for years, my lord," he told the Baron. "Especially the parts people think there's no way through. We can surprise this northern force. Then Morgarath will be caught out as well, when no Skandians turn up behind us."

Tyler continued to pace around the table, staring intently at the designs drawn there and the markers set in place in the sand map.

"All the same," he said, "we'll be in a pretty sc.r.a.pe if the Skandians defeat Halt and the cavalry over here in the north. After all, you'll be outnumbered almost two to one."

Halt nodded agreement again. "That's true. But we'll catch them in open country, so we'll have the advantage. And don't forget we'll be taking two hundred archer units as well. They should even the numbers a little."

An archer unit consisted of two men: one archer and one accompanying spearman, mutually supporting each other. Against lightly armored infantry, they were a deadly combination, able to cut down large numbers at a distance, then retreat before their enemy could come to grips with them.

"But," insisted Baron Tyler, "let's a.s.sume that the Skandians do manage to win through. Then the tables will be turned. We'll be fighting a real enemy in the northwest, with our rear exposed to Morgarath's Wargals coming out of the pa.s.s."

Arald managed to suppress a sigh. As a strategist, Tyler was notoriously cautious. "On the other hand," he said, doing his best to keep the impatience out of his voice, "if Halt succeeds, it will be his force that Morgarath sees coming around from the northwest. He'll a.s.sume it's the Skandians attacking us from that direction and he'll bring his forces out onto the Plains to attack us from behind. And then we'll have him-once and for all."

The prospect seemed to appeal to him.

"It's still a risk," Tyler said stubbornly. Halt and Arald exchanged a glance, and the Baron's shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug.

Halt said, in a dry tone, "All warfare has a risk attached to it, sir. Otherwise it would be easy."

Baron Tyler looked up angrily at him. Halt met his gaze evenly. As the Baron opened his mouth to say something, Sir David forestalled him, smacking one gauntlet into his palm in a decisive gesture.

"All right, Halt," he said. "I'll put your plan to the King."

At the mention of the King, Halt's face softened slightly.

"How is His Majesty taking the news?" he asked, and Sir David shrugged unhappily.

"Personally, he's devastated, of course. It was the cruelest possible blow to have his hopes raised and then shattered again. But he manages somehow to put his personal life to one side and continue to perform his duties as King. He says he'll mourn later, when this is all over."

"There may be no need for mourning," Arald put in, and David smiled sadly at him.

"I've told him that, of course. He says he'd prefer not to have false hopes raised once more."

There was an awkward silence in the tent. Tyler, Fergus and Sir David felt deep sorrow for their King. Duncan was a popular and just monarch. Halt and Baron Arald, on the other hand, both felt the loss of Will deeply. In a remarkably short time, Will had become an integral part of Castle Redmont. Finally, it was Sir David who broke the silence.

"Gentlemen, perhaps you might begin preparing your orders. I'll take this plan to the King."

And as he turned away to the inner sections of the pavilion, the barons and Halt left the large tent. Arald, Fergus and Tyler walked quickly away, to prepare movement orders for the army. Halt, seeing a dejected figure in Ranger green and gray waiting by the sentry post, moved down the small hill to talk to his former apprentice.

"I want leave to go across the Fissure after them," said Gilan.

Halt knew how deeply he felt the hurt of Will's loss. Gilan blamed himself for leaving Will alone in the hills of Celtica. No matter how many times Halt and the other Rangers told him that he had taken the right course, he refused to believe it. Now, Halt knew, it would hurt him even more to be refused. Nevertheless, as Rangers, their first duty was to the kingdom. He shook his head and answered curtly.

"Not granted. You're needed here. We're to lead a force through the Thorntree to cut off Horth's men. Go to Crowley's tent and get hold of the charts showing the secret ways for this part of the country."

Gilan hesitated, his jaw set. "But..." he began to protest, and then something in Halt's eyes stopped him as the older Ranger leaned forward.

"Gilan, do you think for one moment that I don't want to tear that plateau apart stone by stone until I find him? But you and I took an oath when they gave us these silver oak leaves, and now we have to live up to it."

Gilan dropped his eyes and nodded. His shoulders slumped as he gave in.

"All right," he said in a broken voice, and Halt thought he saw traces of tears in his eyes. He turned away hurriedly before Gilan could see the moisture in his own.

"Get the charts," he said briefly.

The four Skandians and their prisoners had trudged across the bleak, windswept plateau for the rest of the day and into the evening. It wasn't until several hours after dark that Erak called a halt, and Will and Evanlyn sank gratefully to the rocky ground. The ache in Will's head had receded somewhat through the day, but it still throbbed dully in the background. The dried blood on the wound where the jagged rock had hit him itched abominably, but he knew that if he scratched at the irritation, he would only open the wound and set the blood flowing once more.

At least, thought Will, Erak hadn't kept them tied or restrained in any way. As the Skandian leader put it, there was nowhere for the two prisoners to run.

"This plateau is full of Wargals," he'd told them roughly. "You can take your chances with them if you choose." So they'd kept their position in the middle of the party, pa.s.sing bands of Wargals throughout the day, and heading constantly to the northeast, and Three Step Pa.s.s. Now, the four Skandians eased their heavy packs to the ground and Nordal began to gather wood for a fire. Svengal tossed a large copper pot at Evanlyn's feet and gestured toward a stream that bubbled through the rocks close by.

"Get some water," he told her gruffly. For a moment, the girl hesitated, then she shrugged, took up the pot and rose, groaning softly as her tired muscles and joints were called upon once more to take her weight.

"Come on then, Will," she said casually. "You can give me a hand."

Erak was rummaging in his open pack. His head snapped around as she spoke.

"No!" he said sharply, and the entire group turned to look at him. He pointed one blunt forefinger at Evanlyn.

"You, I don't mind wandering off," he said. "Because I know you'll come back. But as for that Ranger, he might just take it into his head to make a run for it, in spite of things."

Will, who had been thinking of doing just that, tried to look surprised.

"I'm no Ranger," he said. "I'm just an apprentice."

Erak gave a short snort of laughter. "You may say so," he replied. "But you dropped them Wargals at the bridge as well as any Ranger might. You stay where I can keep an eye on you."

Will shrugged, smiled wanly at Evanlyn and sat down again, sighing as he leaned his back against a rock. In a few moments, he knew, it would become hard and k.n.o.bbly and uncomfortable. But right now, it was bliss.

The Skandians went ahead making camp. In short order, they had a good fire going, and when Evanlyn returned with the pot full of water, Erak and Svengal produced dried provisions, which they added to the water as it heated to make a stew. The meal was plain and fairly tasteless, but it was hot and it filled their bellies. Will thought ruefully for a few minutes of the pre-prepared food that came from Master Chubb's kitchen. Sadly, he realized that such thoughts of Master Chubb's kitchen and his times in the forest with Halt were no more than memories now, and the meal was suddenly even more tasteless than before.

Evanlyn seemed to sense his deepening sadness. He felt her warm, small hand cover his and he knew she was looking at him. But he couldn't meet those vivid green eyes with his own, feeling the tears welling up in them.

"It'll be all right," she whispered. He tried to talk, but couldn't form the words. Silently, he shook his head, his eyes downcast, staring intently at the scratched surface of the wooden bowl the Skandians had given him to use.

They were camped some meters from the side of the road, at the top of a slight rise. Erak had stated that he liked to see anyone who might choose to approach. Now, rounding a bend in the road several hundred meters away, came a large group of hors.e.m.e.n, followed by a troop of Wargals, running to keep up with the horses' trot. The sound of the Wargals' chant came to them on the breeze once more and Will felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

Erak turned swiftly to the two of them, gesturing them back into the cover of the rocks behind their campsite.