Storms of Victory (Witch World: The Turning)
Both tensed as they at last moved into the open, wondering how the interloper would respond to their presence.
Ogin was not long in spotting them. Either his mission and heart were indeed light, or his nerve and speed of decision were those of a master general, for he called out to them almost at the moment of sighting, or, rather, he called to Una, whom he obviously recognized as readily as she had him.
He was a striking man, Tarlach saw as they drew, near him. Of average height, Ravenfield's lord was of a stocky build, all muscle with nothing of fat upon him. His face was square in keeping with his body. Its complexion was ruddy beneath a deep tan. Ogin's eyes were dark under heavy, black brows. His hair was very dark as well with a pronounced wave. It showed the barest hint of thinning at the crown. His features were well formed except for the lips, which were uncommonly narrow, making his mouth seem no more than a hard slit across his face.
He inclined his head toward the woman in a courtly fashion.
“You are far from home, Lady Una,” he remarked pleasantly after exchanging greetings with her.
“As are you, my Lord.”
“Indeed, and I am a trespasser besides. I was rough- training this colt when I caught sight of a fine hart and gave chased”
“I am sorry to have broken your hunt, then.”
He laughed.
“You but spared my pride, Lady. My horse was too inexperienced for such work in this country, and I lost the beast.”
The shrewd eyes flickered to the mercenary, who had remained silent and a little behind his companion during the exchange.
“What fear has come upon you, Lady Una, that you ride your own lands with warrior escort? That had never been your wont.”
“Only the times, my Lord. Too many have been sent wandering and running whom it would not be well for a woman, or a man either, for that matter, to meet while traveling alone.”
He eyed the Falconer's winged helm coldly. It was a chance and perhaps a reckless one, but this meeting just might be made to work for his good.
“A single warrior, my Lady?—That one will be of no use to you. All this solitude is wasted on his sort—”
Ogin said no more. He wanted to swallow but dared not lest the needle point of the sword pressing against his throat penetrate the flesh and the windpipe beneath.
“My charge includes defense of my liege's name as well as her person, Lord Cur,” Tarlach said with an icy fury in which the other man read the will to his death. “You have made assault on that, and hers is the right of judging your fate.”
“Let him go free,” Una commanded.
Her own voice, her face, were fixed with disdain.
“This now closes the question that was between us, Ogin of Ravenfield. Your insult to me I shall not forgive, and more unpardonable still is the slur you cast at this warrior who has bound his sword in honorable service to me. You may leave unharmed now, but if he or any of his comrades should take you again on my lands, he may exact whatever penalty his honor demands from you.—Now go, before I alter my command and allow, him to loose his blade on you!”
The Holdlord eyed the lowered but still-ready weapon in the mercenary's hand and the falcon already circling his head and made no issue of the matter. His gamble had miscarried and more violently than he might have imagined. He could only count his losses and lay other plans to gain the end he was determined to secure.
Without a word to either of them, he jerked his mount's head around and turned back toward his own domain.
The Falconer glared after him.
“The bastard,” he muttered savagely. “I should have cut him down where he sat!”
“He was angry at my having outmaneuvered him by blunting the threat he represented, and perhaps he hoped to drive a wedge between your people and your oath.”
“He is a fool as well, then. Because he is void of honor, does he imagine we are all of his ilk? My race must be harshly judged indeed if that is the way we are viewed.”
“It would have been an ill deed all the same to fell him for a word.”
Tarlach looked closely upon her and saw the tightness of her manner; she had not enjoyed the insult. Like himself, she had reined her anger, aye, and her slashed pride as well. This one was worthy to have command over others, as worthy as was any lord under whom and with whom he had served throughout the years of the war and since.
“The break between you is open now,” he observed.
She sighed.
“That was inevitable once he spoke as he did. I suppose he knew my answer anyway, and my determination to resist force, once he learned I had brought blank shields to Seakeep. Our folk made sure that news spread where it should go as soon as you arrived.”
She sighed again.
“It is probably for the best that it happened. Now he will either have to take direct action against us, which he is not likely to do with your company to stand our defense, or else content himself with his present base and level of activity.”
The captain straightened.
“Activity which I hope we can soon put to an end,” he said quietly; if he had ever doubted it before, he firmly believed now that the dark-eyed Dalesman was fully capable of doing all the people of Seakeep suspected of him. “Let us go, Lady. It is growing late, and I would not make our camp too near this place.”
Una nodded. With his hope of obtaining Seakeepdale through marriage shattered, Ogin of Ravenfield might well consider some work of treachery against them.
They rode as fast as the terrain would permit for the rest of that day and well into the evening, concealing their trail with all the cunning bred and trained into the Falconer over the long years when his life had at times depended as much or more upon his ability to move silently and quickly as upon his skill with a sword.
There was only so much that even he could do, however, with their destination and general direction known, and the captain frowned darkly when they finally ceased their run for the night. No camp could be so carefully hidden that it could not be discovered.
“Come,” he said suddenly after they had finished eating the portion of their supplies allotted to that evening's meal, “we shall make our bed in the branches above.”
Una started but followed him without protest.
He led her some distance from the area they had disturbed before stopping beneath one of the forest giants towering high above them. Using their belts to help them grip and hold the smooth-grained bark, they climbed to the lowest branch and from there to the one above, a limb so broad that they could have walked erect upon it for a full third of its length had they been so daring as to make the attempt.
The woman was glad that her companion was not so inclined, and she was relieved when he indicated that they would not have to go any higher. She gingerly maneuvered herself until her back rested against the solid roundness of the trunk and from this position of relative security rather unhappily surveyed the place where she was to pass the night. She had no fear of heights, but neither did she like to dwell upon the fall she could take with the slightest loss of balance.
If Tarlach was aware of her unease, he gave no sign of it. Moving as cautiously as she had before him, he settled himself beside her.
Una steeled herself and slid a little to her right to give him more room.
His arm closed around her.
“Stay still. There is space for both of us up here. If we take it in turn to watch so that one of us is always alert, we should have a secure if an uncomfortable night.”
She smiled despite herself.
“Ogin willing.”
“Ogin willing,” he agreed, “and I believe he will leave us in peace to enjoy It.”
“That is why we are perched up here like a pair of nestless birds?”
He laughed.
“I live today because I learned early to guard against even unlikely peril, but if I felt we were actually in danger, I would not have permitted us to stop at all.”
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/> Una sighed to herself, knowing he was right.
“In any event,” she said after a moment's silence, “the first watch is mine.”
“Do you think I would allow you to sleep through?” he asked a little sharply.
“Maybe you would, maybe not, but I do know that your senses are better trained than mine and will be needed in the darkness of the late hours and in the strange light of predawn. We should have little to fear during the first part of the night. Ogin had no warriors with him, and he would not attempt to ride after us alone. Even if he had a company waiting fairly close by, he would still have to return for them, then come back again, discover our trail, and follow it. Despite our stopping, he can hardly overtake us very quickly. In fact, I am more concerned about the possibility of some sort of ambush near the tower than I am of any direct pursuit.”
The mercenary looked at her with new respect.
“You read it as I do.—Have no fear. We shall be watching for any such trap, although I truly do not think we shall meet with one. The Lord of Ravenfield could not have known we would be riding here, and I do believe that he was traveling alone. You have told me that is the practice here save when it is known that brigands are active in the area, and lack of an escort precludes an impromptu ambush.” As if to emphasize his words, he yawned. “For now, my Lady, it is best that we try for whatever rest we can find.”
The Falconer did not sleep immediately although the weariness of an active day was full upon him.
He was resting partly against the tree, partly against his companion. He had no fear of falling. The slender arm around him was strong in its support and would hold him should he begin to slip, at least long enough for him to become aware of and avert his danger.
He looked up. Even his night-trained eyes could discern no more than a shadow profile of the Daleswoman, so thick had the darkness become.
That was enough, more than enough.
Tarlach closed his eyes again and allowed his consciousness of her to sweep through him.
The nearness of her was as a flame, lighting every nerve, every instinct, within him. He longed to close that lovely body in his arms, to lie beside and with her …
A fury of self-loathing filled him, and he crushed the unwelcome passion. was this the best that could be expected of one of his race, then, this rapid capitulation to the forces working on all men, and in a manner utterly degrading to his honor? It was vile beyond any violation of discipline to even think of so using one dependent upon his protection. Una of Seakeep needed him now. She trusted him, and she must never come to suspect the extent to which his supposed strength had failed him.
9
Their precautions were either totally successful or quite unnecessary, and the pair reached the round tower unmolested late the following morning. There, they separated, Una to apprise Rufon of all that had befallen them, and Tarlach to make report of this first meeting with their potential enemy to his own comrades.
His tale ended, the captain flung himself into the heavily carved chair Brennan drew up for him, his expression threatening and dark.
“That one merits the hating,” he muttered.
His fury against Ogin of Ravenfield had returned in all its force during his recounting of their exchange, and he felt little need to mask it among these men.
“Is the man feeble-brained?” Rorick asked. “What could he have hoped to accomplish by provoking you two like that?”
“Probably precisely what the Holdlady suggested, to force a wedge between us with that slur on her name. It would have been to his benefit to strip her of defense again by driving us off.”
Brennan laughed without humor.
“He erred, then. I have rarely seen you with your back up like this.”
“I dislike someone trying to manipulate me as if I were a witless child,” his commander replied hastily. “How do you accept it?”
“None of us care for insult. I think Ogin of Ravenfield may discover us rather more interested in the fight than he might otherwise have found us if it comes to that now.”
“Aye, and he recognizes his mistake. Be assured of that. He does hot strike me as one who habitually so fouls his tactics, either.” He shook his head. “I pity anyone giving him cause to vent his spleen at the moment.”
“What is your judgment of him?” Brennan questioned. “Apart from your dislike of him, how would you class him as an opponent?”
Tarlach paused, choosing his words carefully.
“Intelligent, capable, willful and quick of temper but, I think, usually in better command of himself than he showed us—a dangerous man and, I believe, one with the ability to induce others of his ilk to fight well for his sake. He is not an enemy we dare ignore.”
“You believe that Seakeep does have cause to fear him, then?”
He nodded.
“I do, and after our meeting yesterday, that fear may not be very far from being confirmed in action.”
His lieutenant was frowning.
“One thing I do not understand. We have heard the explanation of how he comes to have a strong and able garrison when those of his neighbors are all much reduced, but a crew capable of black wrecking is another matter. The Dalesfolk here and the admittedly few outsiders making use of the bay whom we have observed all seem to be honest, human people, right poor material for such work even if they were compelled by force to undertake it;”
“Such can be hired. Ogin has left his Dale on occasion since he gained possession of it with no explanation of his destination given to his neighbors. He could well have been gathering the renegades he required to him and settling them in his chosen lair. The Ravenfield folk would by and large have been kept ignorant of their presence and purpose, and any happening to learn about them would have been slain outright or silenced by terror.”
Tarlach went to the long table which served the mercenaries as a desk and spread a map on its ample surface. Ogin's wrecker activities were the most hateful of his presumed offenses, but they must be relegated to a secondary position in their regard for the moment; it was his possible role as an invader to which they must now address their attention.
The Falconer company was still together, clustered around their officers and deep in discussion, when Rufon entered the barracks.
Tarlach gave him a nod of greeting and looked inquisitively at him. The veteran had assumed the role of liaison between the clannish mercenaries and those people of Seakeep needing to deal with them, and he thought that the Dalesman might be acting as Una's messenger now. Although her position gave her the right to do so, she had never yet intruded upon them in their quarters.
That assumption proved accurate, and he soon found himself in the great hall. Una was standing near its center, alone for the moment, a pillar of quiet set amidst a scene of uncommon activity.
The man's eyes narrowed. There was no panic, but this bustle went well beyond the normal press of activity usually to be found here. That seemed to bespeak some sort of trouble.
He was even more convinced that something was seriously amiss when he reached her side a few moments later and saw the grave cast of her features.
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“What is wrong, my Lady?”
The green of her eyes seemed to deepen as they fixed on him.
“Are Falconers permitted to do work not related to battle?”
“What work?” Tarlach asked in surprise.
“A storm comes, one of the sea's mighty gales, though it is very early in the season for those, and the most of our harvest is still in stacks upon the fields. If we cannot bring it in before that tempest strikes, our animals will feel hunger's lash this winter.”
“You wish us to help you draw it in?”
“Aye, if you would not find the task demeaning. Without your help, a good part of the crop is certain to be lost.”
“We are not like those lords who think the labors supporting their domains are somehow beneath them, Lady, and we, too, love our animals, though they b
e less fine than yours; we have no wish to see them hungry. The help you want is yours, but it shall come from only half our number, the others I shall have to hold in reserve for our defense.”
“Ogin can read the signs as well as we. He will not mount an attack now.”
“Not if he is still within his keep, perhaps, or very near to it, but if I were he and already well en route, I would press my assault, hoping to come upon my enemies while they were laboring in their fields and unprepared for treachery and then shelter my army in the captured tower or in the cottages and outbuildings if that still held out when the gale struck.”
“You are right as always in these matters,” the woman conceded with admiration, but then she shuddered. “How terrible your life must be for your mind to ever have to flow to war and the work of death.”
“My life is a blank shield's, and my thoughtways are a major reason for your having hired my sword.”
“Aye, and yet I am sorry you have not known more of peace.”
The man smiled.
“We, too, have our times of quietness. If that were not so, I should hardly be able to appreciate, much less enjoy as I do, all I have found here. It is just that other peoples rarely see us in such moments. They are not likely to come often during our periods of service with you.”
The grey eyes shadowed.
“This commission has been an exception to that, and soon even Seakeep may become prey to violence and hate… .”
“Perhaps the Amber Lady will spare us that,” Una said quickly, “or the Horned Lord, war being his province.”
He threw the mood from him.
“Maybe they shall, but they mean to test us all the same in another way if your reading of the weather is sound.—Let us be away, my Lady, and see to this work of harvesting.”
The mercenaries labored all that afternoon and evening beside the Dalespeople, racing the ominously darkening sky and rising wind to bring what was an unusually rich harvest under cover before it could all be swept away.