“Forget payment!” He gripped himself. His was a race of mercenaries, after all. “This is a Blood Call, Lady. The attack to come is as much directed against us as against you since we are also present in High Hallack, and the war to be fought is for all the world, even as was that against Kolder.”
“There will still be a fierce long time before we can hope for help to reach us.—The journey is not so far by sea. …”
“Fate has foiled us there,” Rufon told her. “The Tern was holed only this morning. We have her ashore, but the damage is severe, and for the smaller boats to attempt to voyage so far in this season …”
“We must forget the sea,” Tarlach told them. “By the time the Warlord arrives, the invaders will be here, and nothing is likely to be able to get through their fleet, not without a battle too costly for us to consider. They outnumber us too heavily for us to meet them thus. In fact, I want all Seakeep's vessels brought ashore and so placed that they can be destroyed instantly should our defenses go down. No use in giving our foes the use of them.”
The Falconer flushed slightly. “Do you concur, Lady?”
Una only laughed. “You are our battle leader, Captain, not I. The right of command is yours.”
“What else would you have us do, Captain?” Rufon asked him smoothly.
“Start work on the barrier at once, dividing our people into two shifts, no, three, so that the labor need never stop. We have no hours for the wasting.
“Besides this, bring everything movable including all the livestock not essential to our immediate efforts into the mountains. Nothing of value must fall to the invaders in the event of our defeat.”
“Except ourselves.”
“We shall not go down lightly, and the dying will be the easier for knowing those dependent upon us will not be slaughtered or enslaved immediately upon our fall.
“For that reason and for the support of the survivors in the event of disaster, all noncombatants must withdraw into the highlands as soon as the wall is up and establish themselves there in very small groups so that the taking of one will not mean the end of all.
“We shall have to continue the fight as hidden folk, as partisans, if these Sultanites succeed in gaining their foothold here. Let the people remember that as they settle themselves. We, all this continent, could have very great and very direct need of them in the time ahead.” His lips pursed. “That is in the event of our defense's failure. For now, those not able to fight will be supplying us, aiding us as if they were actually in the valley with us, and attending to our severely wounded. They will be the better for being removed out of immediate danger, and we shall be relieved of the worry of caring for their needs.”
“Daria will not like that,” the Holdruler remarked dryly. “She is no coward.”
He smiled. “Tell her and her assistants that their gifts and oaths bind them to service, and that can best be rendered well back in the highlands, all save the few who must be here to give immediate aid.”
“Suppose the barrier is not complete when the Sultan's fleet comes?” Brennan asked.
“We retreat and try to stop them at the pass into the valley. There can be no thought of trying to hold them off from the tower. The same applies if our defenses are breached and cannot be resealed. Warriors will always be assigned to form a rear guard. It will be theirs to give the rest time to escape. Should we lose the pass as well, as is likely, we take up a guerrilla war until the invaders can be ousted once more.”
“It all sounds reasonable,” Una agreed.
She glanced at Tarlach. “I can see no point in trying to conceal any of this from our people.”
“None. That would be as fatal as the Sultanites’ swords.”
“How many couriers must we send?” Brennan questioned. “Essential as their mission is, I hate to lose the use of their swords.”
“Only one, or a couple at the most. We cannot spare more.”
“If I may make a suggestion, Captain,” Rufon interjected quickly, “We cannot risk sending a woman or girl to your Warlord with so much depending upon his response, and neither can you afford to deprive yourself of any sound warrior.” His one hand slapped his empty right sleeve. “I should be of little use swinging a sword, but otherwise I am hale of body and as good a rider as most of your own comrades. Let me serve as your messenger. It will be a hard race, and I am better able for it than an old man or a boy too young for battle would be.”
The mercenary was silent a while, as if he were reluctant to accept the other's logic, but at last he nodded. “Very well, Rufon. I shall prepare a report explaining the situation and will also order one of the widows to fly with you to add credence to your position.”
He paused at the mention of the falcon and seemed to slip into his own thoughts. When he roused from them some moments later, his expression was very grave. “I must ask something more of my command. The bond uniting us with our winged brothers is powerful, and one does not usually long survive the fall of the other. For now, however, for the duration of this confrontation, I ask that this release be waived, at least temporarily, if that can be done. We simply will not be able to afford the loss of a second fighter for every one brought down, and we can anticipate all too many casualties. For the men, it will be a matter of enduring the agony of their loss. For the falcons, it is a more difficult sacrifice, the refusal to yield to the workings of death already active within them, yet I must beg them to remain as well.
“The widows, of course, must join at once, for the length of the battle, with bereaved warriors.”
He sighed as the weight of his responsibility settled on him in all its crushing force, then his head raised. “We must begin at once. Lady Una, Comrades, go to our peoples and tell them all that has transpired here. See what can be done about starting the barrier and also,” he added suddenly, “about tearing down the dock. Let our unwelcome guests ferry themselves in by dory since we cannot prevent their landing altogether.
“I shall join you as soon as I have completed my request to the Warlord.”
Una came to the chamber she had given over to Tarlach for his use from the time the Falconer company had first come to Seakeepdale, the chamber once used by the old Holdlord himself.
The Captain was just folding the report that he had composed. He sealed it, then gave her a sympathetic smile. “You told them?”
“Yes,” she replied. “They accepted the news quietly.”
“I would have expected no less. Rufon is ready?”
“Just about. He is loading his saddlebags now.” The woman eyed him somberly. “I am glad you agreed to let him go, dearly as I shall miss his support. I was afraid that you might try to send me in his stead.”
“He was right. I could not have given the commission to a woman.”
“I could not have gone in any event,” she told him. “You know that, Tarlach. A Holdlord would have to remain, and I can do no less.”
“Stay to die.”
“If that is to be.”
He turned away from her. “I wish I had the courage to order you from here, Holdruler or not.”
He gripped himself and forced himself to look at her again. “I am not entirely a brave man, Una. Too many I love will fall in this, and I should be glad to have you out of it, but I only know that I do not want to face it without having you beside me. I do not want to see you ride from here and know I shall probably never see you again. I do not want to die without the comfort of your presence.” He stopped himself, and his eyes closed. “I do not even have the strength to keep silent and not burden you further. You have enough to bear without having my weaknesses put on you, when I should be showing you strength only.”
“I am aware of your humanity, my Lord,” she said softly, “and I am weak enough myself that I very much needed to hear that from you just now.”
Una made herself smile and drove the tightness from her voice, although it did not leave her heart. “Come, my Lord. We have tarried long enough. Guests are coming
, and we have a deal of work before us to prepare a fitting greeting for them.”
13
Dalesfolk and Falconers alike threw themselves into the task of preparing the mountain-girth hold to meet the invasion whose success or failure would determine the fate not only of this one Dale but of all those around it and probably the very history of their world besides.
The labor before them was massive, enormous, seemingly hopeless at its outset, yet the wall that was to be their screen rose with marvelous speed.
Material, they had in plenty, and nature had set it near to hand. Every stone, every rock, every boulder was cleared away from the beach and the shallow tidal waters so that neither shelter nor missiles remained to aid the Sultan's dark cause. More came from the surrounding slopes, great boulders, some more like to miniature cliffs than single rocks, requiring the combined strength of all the hold's dray horses and oxen to move them onto the logs that would roll them to their final place. The huge blocks were prized and more than worth the effort expended in placing them, for they were proof against any ram, and they quickly filled space along the line that could never have been closed in time had its builders depended entirely upon more conventionally sized materials.
The long, squat wall which took form out of the mountain of debris the defenders brought to it was no thing of beauty, but it was strong, and they believed it would serve them as they intended.
It was relatively low, only high enough that a man might not leap over it even using his spear to aid his spring. More height should not be needed. The Sultanites were expecting no opposition and would not be likely to have carried formal siege equipment with them.
The seaward side of the barrier was straight and smoothly finished so that neither those trying to scale it nor hooks meant to tear it down would find ready purchase upon it; that facing the keep had more the appearance of a rubble pile and sloped sharply down from the platform where the defenders would stand. This last was situated in such a way that archers could crouch behind it to fire through the slits provided for the purpose without exposing themselves, or warriors might stand to wield swords or other weapons, screening themselves by means of their shields.
An officer's rank did not exempt a Falconer from labor when his unit faced heavy need, and both the Captain and his two Lieutenants strained and sweated beside their subordinates whenever the nearly ever-present press of their other duties lifted enough to permit it.
Both Tarlach and Brennan had been so occupied all that morning and were well spent with their efforts. They cast themselves against the huge boulder they had just manhandled into place, breathing heavily, their eyes closed. It was good just to rest for a few minutes, to draw the cold, sweet air into their gasping lungs.
At last, the Mountain Hawk opened his eyes to look into the gray sky. “If the Sultanites do not come to batter us, the elements soon will. Those clouds bespeak a storm.”
“That is all we need.”
Tarlach levered himself up so that his elbows supported him. His eyes ran the length of the wall. “Actually, we have been fortunate. The work is done now, and we can rest as easily in rain as on a clear day. I wonder when it will strike?”
“That is hard to say. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps tomorrow. There should be some heavy squalls before it hits in full force at any rate.”
“We cannot grudge its coming, I suppose. This is the season for gales, and the weather has been considerate to have held off troubling us for so long.”
“So have our supposed enemies. Perhaps that will continue and they will choose to make their landing somewhere far from this coast. I confess I should feel more secure meeting them elsewhere with a number of warriors beside me more nearly equal to theirs, even though countless other clashes were certain to follow.”
His commander smiled sympathetically. “Our thoughts run alike, my friend. I should not even complain about the wasting of all the effort to which we have gone in preparing a proper reception for them.”
The men straightened as a slender figure approached them.
Pyra moved quickly and lightly through the mass of workers. She was carrying a stone water jug, which she handed first to Tarlach, then to Brennan.
The latter drained a good part of its contents before returning it to her. “Thanks given,” he said as he did so. “No wine is as sweet.”
“It is but another of Seakeep's riches, Bird Warrior.—You have chosen a fine site for your Eyrie,” she said to the Captain. “I will give you that.”
“It is a pity you cannot see it under normal conditions,” Tarlach told her with real regret. “These people are brave and able, but they would rather be working with their animals and land and with that wild sea out there than preparing for war.”
“Like it or nay, they have risen to the emergency well. They have both my liking and my respect.” She smiled, a trifle gravely, perhaps, but the effect was pleasant on her sharp features. “At least all this has put one false belief of ours to rest. We thought you Falconers never did anything but fight, beyond training with the feathered ones and your horses, of course. I see instead that you are well able to work and do so in a manner that proves you are no strangers to it.”
“Who did you imagine maintained our camps, or the Eyrie before its fall?” Brennan demanded. “We have no servants or keep no slaves.”
“How were we to know that?” she countered archly. “You worked well to hold your lives a mystery to us.” She settled the heavy jug so that it rested more comfortably on her hip. “The Lady Una looks as if she could use a break. I had best go to her.”
“Tell her to pace herself more carefully,” Tarlach ordered with no good humor. “I would not see her kill herself trying to match my warriors.”
The woman only laughed. “The Holdlady is no such fool, I can assure you. The work she assumes, she is fully capable of performing.”
Pyra joined the Daleswoman a few moments later, and Una accepted the water she offered as gratefully as had the two men.
“You should be resting,” she chided after returning the jar. “You were at this yourself most of the night.”
“Some of us have to draw support duty each day.”
The jade eyes studied her. “You are getting a strange view of us.”
“Your Mountain Hawk just made almost the same comment.”
“I am glad,” the Holdruler said softly. “That means he is still holding some hope for the future.”
“It also means that he has a real care for your people. For you as well. He believes you are working too hard.”
Una of Seakeep sniffed. “I have not noticed him sparing himself any!” Her eyes shadowed again. “I would have us talk of Seakeep, Pyra. How do you see us?” As long as Tarlach of the Falconers could hope there might still be life after this and the chance to build and grow, she could do no less.
“I like your people a great deal,” the other woman replied. “Your women are much like ourselves, and your men and boys are natural and content with them as they are. It is a fairly unique situation from what I have observed and an enviable one, and I would be very careful indeed about introducing males from the Dales around in here, whatever your need for mates. Few of your people would be content at being forced back into the old rules of life now.
“Your blank shields are harder to know, harder to read. They are never less than courteous, and they do work well with your folk, but they are not your comrades, not yet.”
“No, but that would be a great deal to expect in so short a span of time, would it not?”
“I am not faulting them, Lady. I would not have expected so much from them or believed they could do so much had I not witnessed it day by day.”
“The rest may come as well, assuming any of us survive this.” Una shook her head ruefully. “It has been an interesting time, right enough, but I knew what was involved when I hired their swords.”
“Did you?”
“Not all of it, perhaps,” she replied, smiling. “I certai
nly did not anticipate their remaining with me so long or that I should have them as permanent and close neighbors.” She straightened. Tarlach was looking at them, inquisitively, as if he would speak with her, and she took her leave of Pyra to go to him.
Brennan gave salute to the Holdruler, then left them. Tarlach's smile came easily once they were alone, and she could see that he was pleased with the progress they had made.
“We have beaten your schedule, Mountain Hawk,” she told him with equal satisfaction.
“That we have, Lady.”
Her eyes ran the length of the wall. “It is finished?”
“It is. A little smoothing of the platform still remains to be done, but nothing even vaguely essential.”
“I can begin moving my people out, then, those who are not to fight, and have them take the rest of the stock?”
He nodded. “As soon as possible.—There is no thanking you for your role in all this. None of the work would be even nearly half completed if my comrades had to carry the whole of it, and it is with you that the credit for managing your folk belongs. That alone would have been a sufficient contribution, and you have organized their retreat to the Highlands as well.”
She eyed him gravely. “Does it surprise you that I have proven able?” she asked him quietly.
“No, Lady,” the mercenary answered thoughtfully after a brief pause, “not any longer. You were Holdheir, and duty and responsibility were both bred and trained into you.” A smile just touched his lips. “Recognizing your competence does not lessen my gratitude for it.”
“I am glad to hear you say it,” the woman replied with a little sigh. “I do not feel particularly competent when I think of what lies ahead.”
“You will carry your part, Una of Seakeep. Perhaps a lone warrior can afford to feel strong and at ease before a battle if there exists such a fool, but no one bearing the weight of command may do so. Fear is my companion as well and has been since we first learned of this threat.”