A Crown Disowned by Andre Norton
Tusser, of all the officers, had been assigned to go with his men, at Harous's express command. They straggled along behind the Rendelians, lacking any sort of military order.
Harous himself proceeded to outdistance the vanguard. Too far ahead, Gaurin thought.
Snow and wind make a capricious combination, particularly in mountain country.
By a stroke of good fortune, the howling gale had been funneled into the narrow valley and had swept away most of the new snow through which they must make their way; consequently, the advance on ground level was much easier than it might have been. Rocks and other obstacles were clearly discernable under their fresh white blanket, and so were easy to avoid. Above, on top of the mountains, the winds had not been so fierce, allowing snowfall to accumulate to steep and dangerous depths. Gaurin kept a wary eye on that possible peril. He recognized this as avalanche country. If it had not been for the prospect of taking the enemy by surprise, he would have protested this present plan of attack even more vigorously than he had already done.
"We lose nothing by waiting a day or two, and have much to gain by sending out scouts to learn just what may face us," he had urged repeatedly in the counsel tent. "Particularly since the storm has struck so heavily. Otherwise we march into a situation where we are as blind men."
"Perhaps. But I for one cannot sit idle in camp in this fashion," Harous retorted. Around him most of the officers nodded agreement.
He had the young nobles thoroughly in his hand, Gaurin noted. Rash, foolhardy, inexperienced in anything other than set-piece battles, they were fairly itching to get into the fight. Well, he thought, many of them would get their first scars today and thereby learn a more mature caution.
The advance along the valley floor presented so few obstacles that the soldiers moved four abreast, thereby making much better time than if they had had to keep single file. At the muster of troops, each company commander had impressed on them the need for quiet. Nevertheless, they still made more noise than Gaurin could accept. He was constantly wary of the heavy snow piled overhead. He motioned to Cebastian, who was also glancing upward with a worried look.
"Drop back and tell the men they must be as quiet as possible," he ordered in a low tone. "No talking, no jangle of weapons."
"I know, sir. I will see to it."
With Cebastian to remind them, the noise level among the armsmen dropped appreciably, though still not as much as Gaurin wished.
Every stride took the corps deeper into the mountain pass. As they rounded a spur of rock and entered well into the valley, Gaurin noted a second road dug into the mountain flank to his left. Then, to the right, he glimpsed a flash of something high above, almost at the peak of the heights. Stopping short, he shielded his eyes with his hand. A momentary increase in the snowfall curtained the uppermost slopes. Rajesh and Finola had flanked him and now paused beside him. Above, springy, fragrant evergreen trees covered much of the mountainside except where a clean-scrubbed swath marked a path of one of the frequent avalanches. In a notch in line with this spot, the brightness of the morning, combined with the blue glitter of the snow—
Not snow! Ice!
Gaurin held up his hand, gesturing a halt to those behind him while he strove to find an answer. Rajesh lifted his lips in a silent snarl and Finola growled deep in her throat. The men in the front ranks, still obediently silent under
Cebas-tian's insistence, clustered at the head of the valley, effectively blocking entry for those behind them.
Gaurin had seen situations such as this before. As with all ice rivers, whether atop a mountain or crawling on the ground, this one lay in a small rift it had carved between two higher peaks. These heights, he recognized to his dismay, were thick with new fallen snow. If the crust of old snow had melted, even a little, it would then certainly have re-frozen during the last few days into a surface of pure ice. This promised marked danger. The slightest mischance would send the new snow plummeting down the mountainside in the chute where such disasters had obviously occurred many times before. If that happened now, and they were in the way, they would all be destroyed at once. Fortunately, it was easy, especially for a Nordor, to predict the limits of where the avalanche could be expected to fall.
Harous, unknowing that Gaurin had halted the advance, was still forging ahead.
Gaurin risked the noise he would make, running to catch up, as the war-kats bounded soundlessly beside him.
"Look up there," he said softly. "We must turn back."
Harous surveyed the danger area Gaurin pointed out. "Yes, I see," he said. To
Gaurin's dismay, he spoke in a normal tone that carried in the still air. "But I do not agree to any retreat. Rather, the order will be to advance so that we will win through before the snow or the ice gives way." He raised his arm to give a forward signal.
"Retreat, now!" Gaurin countered. "Believe me, I know this country! We proceed to great danger."
Harous shook his head. Then suddenly both men realized that the time for argument had run out. An Ice Dragon poked its head over the edge of the frozen river. Its rider was well established to see all happening below. A second
Dragon appeared higher up on the slope, on the other side. The translucent blue and white ice began to crack and shift, and the booming sound echoed off the opposite canyon walls. Both war-kats went tense and lifted their lips to snarl aloud.
Harous simply stood, staring, perhaps in shock. Gaurin grabbed the High
Marshal's arm and with sheer bodily force strove to drag him back the way they had come. Then, at the far end of the valley they had entered, Gaurin saw oncoming enemy soldiers along the narrow road cut high along the mountainside directly opposite the ice river. He knew the worst at once. The path of advance by the Four Armies had been turned into an ambush to trap them.
"CebastianV he shouted. "Now!"
Cebastian, knowing what to do, immediately set up a clamor, setting sword against shield and making as much noise as he could. Those men gathered at the head of the valley began to follow his example. However, many behind them, unable to assess the situation and confused by what seemed to be conflicting orders, hesitated.
A huge crystal of ice leaned out and broke off the lip of the frozen river. With deceptive slowness it dropped, bounc- ing off the slopes, shattering as it fell. The Dragon stationed high up on the mountain spread its wings and lifted into the air.
At that Rendelian soldiers found their voices. Their shouts and the din they made clashing weapons against shields filled the valley to drown out the sound of the fracturing ice above them. Even the war-kats sent up a howl. The heavy snow trembled, and with a kind of terrible inevitability, began to slip from the heights. Eerily, its descent at first was not a roar, but rather a whisper. The
Ice Dragon that had been perched on the river attempted to take flight, too late. Finding its voice at last, the bellowing snow slide overwhelmed it. As the men below watched in awe, the awesome force of falling tons of heavy snow tumbled the huge beast as easily as if it had been a child's toy. In a matter of moments, its limp and broken body was completely buried. The avalanche poured into the valley floor, effectively blocking all passage save retreat along the way the armies had come. The high path carved into the opposite mountainside now swarmed with Frydian warriors.
Some of the destruction would have caught the vanguard had Gaurin not forced them back. The enemy soldiers, safe enough on their narrow road, sped to the attack. In the sky, four Dragons were a-wing. It could only be a moment, Gaurin knew, until those would alight on the mass of fallen snow, even before it had time to settle.
Rohan, at the head of his troop, watched until the Rendelian soldiers were well on the march, the Army of the Bog-men trailing after. As best he could judge, the moment had come for him to take the sea-road, there to engage the enemy and keep them occupied until Harous arrived to fall on their flank and destroy them.
With one such master stroke could the war be won. The leader might remain, but h
They had easy going—a far easier route, Rohan suspected, than the floor of the valley pass. Therefore, he did not push the men, but rather tried to gauge as best he could what progress the others were making. If he attacked too soon, he ran the risk of losing too many of his men to superior numbers. If he attacked too late, the element of surprise would be gone and he would be left on the
Frydians' flank, with too few men.
He could, he realized with calm fatalism, only do what he could, and hope for the best. The back of his neck tingled unnaturally, as always when he faced danger. He touched the little spray of herbs and grasses Granddam Zaz had given him, for luck.
When, according to the lay of the land as he remembered having seen it from the deck of Spume-Maiden, he estimated they were almost within sight of the Frydian camp, Rohan indicated a halt. His war-kats, almost invisible against the snow, crouched nearly within touch.
"Close ranks," he ordered. Dordan and Kather, each in charge of a squad of marines, grinned.
"We know what to do," Iaobim retorted irritably. He was another of the seasoned veterans who had once served with Obern, and who now served with Obern's son.
Rohan did not allow himself to take offense. "That you stand here now," he said agreeably, "proves it." He gave them what he hoped was a disarming grin. It would not do to have the Sea-Rovers begin to hold him, a newly armed youngling, in contempt, and they were all fully independent enough to do so. If they believed him arrogant, they would unceremoniously strip him of his rank and choose another leader, regardless of what the other commanders of the Four
Armies might think or of his kinship with Snolli. In fact, he thought glumly,
Snolli would approve of such removal and be not in the least sympathetic toward his grandson for what Snolli would consider stupidity. "Put it down to a case of nerves on my part."
"You'll get over that soon enough once the fighting starts," Kather said. He hefted his axe, his lips lifted in a crooked and somewhat cruel, anticipatory smile. He eschewed the protection of the fingerless gloves some of the others wore. His hand must have been cold, but his grip was firm.
"No time like the present to start," said Iaobim gruffly. "Give the signal."
"We'll reach the outskirts of their camp and take on whoever we find, and then charge for the center, making as much noise as we can." Rohan drew his sword and likewise decided to do without his glove. In a moment, he was bound to be quite warm enough. "Let's go," he said.
Only one Ice Dragon of the four settled onto the mass of snow that had fallen from the crest of the mountain. The footing was still unstable, but the Dragon's bulk crushed and made firm any shifting of the surface beneath it. The creature raised its great wings. Snow fell from under them. Then it opened its mouth, uttering a sound like a raging storm. More snow and ice belched forth from that awesome cavity in a great gout.
That, Gaurin thought, was only one of the perils they faced that day. With no large weapons, no catapults—at Har-ous's orders, he realized—they were at the
Dragons' mercy. They would just have to take what came, and do the best they could. Suddenly, an idea, engendered by Rohan's report, produced another possibility for killing these creatures besides hurling stones at them. A spear, perhaps an arrow— The battle loomed and he forgot the ghost of the idea in the urgency closing in on them.
Rajesh and Finola, looking very small against the Dragon's bulk, bounded forward before Gaurin could stop them. Though the huge creature could have crushed them with one clawed foot, still they did not hesitate to attack.
One—Gaurin could no longer tell which at this distance—crouched fearlessly in front of the Dragon, making itself a temptation. The beast's great tail switched whiplike as the reptile screeched. The war-kats' tails lashed likewise, as they snarled their defiance. Dragon and rider's attention centered on the war-kat facing it. The other circled around beyond range of the Dragon's tail and launched itself in a prodigious leap. Claws and teeth cut at the Dragon's side, where it could not reach. The Dragon flailed in frustrated fury, and the shrill cries it uttered were not borne on a spray of ice. Now that it centered attention on one, the other war-kats attacked in the same fashion, sinking claws and fangs everywhere they could reach Dragon flesh. The beast went screaming mad, thrashing about and unable to dislodge its tormenters.
"Now!" Gaurin shouted. Behind him, his standard bearer waved his flag and his
Nordors rushed forward, swords and spears at the ready. Lathrom matched the others stride for stride.
Facing such an onslaught, the Dragon faltered and stepped back. Perhaps, as with the one Rohan had slain, it was not used to determined opposition. Nevertheless, it fought on, far from being vanquished. Its mighty limbs flashed up, and men began to fall. The rider pointed a slender metal rod that erupted bluish mist from one end. Where the mist enveloped the attackers, more men went down, coughing as if to tear their lungs open. And yet they pressed forward.
A brave armsman, close to strangling from the effects of the poisonous mist, ducked between and under the Dragon's forelegs. There, it might be possible to find a vulnerable spot.
The rider shouted a command, and the Dragon shook itself. The great wings stretched to their fullest height and it began to lift from where it had alighted. Men scattered. The war-kats leapt to safety and came bounding down the hillock of snow, their tails battle-fluffed. Once they were out of range of the creature's claws and icy breath, they stopped, crouching, and all joined in a yowl of defiance that echoed from the snowy slopes on either side.
While the Nordors and Rendelians had been engaged with the Dragon, enemy soldiers had made great advance along the pathway cut into the side of the opposite mountain.
"Go and see to the injured," Gaurin said to Cebastian. He turned to Hynnel. "It is plain that we have been ambushed. Now I fear for Rohan."
Hynnel's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "It is possible to go around the Frydians on the mountain path. I've been in this valley before but from the north. Now I have my bearings. The Frydians are on a newly made road. However, there is an older one, higher on the slope. If we can gain that one, and if fortune favors us, we can reach Rohan's detachment."
"I will keep them engaged so they do not deter you. May fortune indeed be with you, cousin."
"And with you as well."
They clasped hands. Then, with nearly half of the Nor-dors behind him, Hynnel raced toward the left face of the valley, war-kats bounding ahead of him. In moments, Gaurin could see some of the Frydian soldiers at the head of the column hurrying to clamber upward, obviously aiming at Hynnel's detachment. Most, however, did not understand and kept to their path. Once past those at the forefront, Gaurin knew that Hynnel had a good chance. It all depended on whether his own remaining command could keep this first wave of invaders busy enough so that Hynnel could get through.
"Attack!" Gaurin shouted the order, heading toward the spot where the press of battle would be greatest, only to have Lathrom catch his arm.
"You are needed elsewhere," Lathrom said. "Please, sir, go back and arouse
Harous. Something seems to be the matter with him. He seems dazed. In any case, the Nordors can't hold these Frydians forever, by themselves, and the
Rende-lians are in disarray. Grant me the boon of leading our men, until you can return with a larger force."
Gaurin gazed at him intently for an instant before nodding assent. "In the
Oakenkeep you are my second in com- mand," he said. "Let the lead be yours here and now."
"Depend on me," Lathrom said. Uttering his own deep, booming war-cry, he broke into a run, followed by his personal detachment of men close on his heels.
Gaurin waved Rajesh and Finola after him.
In moments Lathrom's men had engaged the invaders, now defenders, in battle.
Hynnel and his company were able to fight their way through scant opposition, so gaining the high road. The war-kats, on
Despite the chill, Gaurin wiped sweat from his forehead as he considered
Lathrom's comment about Harous's strange action—or rather, lack of it. With long strides, he hurried toward the High Marshal, meeting Harous's lieutenant,
Chevin, bound in his direction. Gaurin paused to give Chevin terse orders. The younger man sprang to action, rounding up a handful of men and heading down the road to join Lathrom and the Nordors, already in the thick of the fight. Then
Gaurin made his way toward Harous only to discover that instead of marking the battle order with the attention such a tense situation required, the Lord High
Marshal and Tusser were in the midst of a dispute.