Michael Manning - The Line of Illeniel

My face went pale as he spoke, his words hammering into me, showing me the folly of my dreams. I couldn’t accept the truth of what he said, for doing so would have destroyed me. I struggled to find a logical response but I came up empty. I was saved from doing so when Penelope’s sword lashed out, seeming to come from nowhere. Its magically enhanced edge went through the emissary’s shield as if it didn’t exist and seconds later his head fell to the floor, still leering at us. Dorian and I stared at her in shock.

Penny stared boldly back. “He talked too much,” she said and began cleaning her blade with the dead man’s robe.

Her nonchalance broke the darkness that had gripped my heart and I began to laugh. Dorian didn’t see the humor though. “The man was here under a white flag! You can’t… you can’t do that!”

Penelope smiled at him. “You’re just jealous that I thought of it first,” she replied. A knock came at the door before Dorian could reply. I rose and answered it to avoid thinking too deeply about what the emissary had just said.

Marc stood at the entrance, looking like a servant, a tray with food and several mugs of ale in his hands. “I thought you might want to offer our guest something…,” he began, looking over my shoulder. It was obvious he was merely curious since I had left him out of the meeting. His eyes grew round when he spotted the headless corpse on the floor.

“Our ‘guest’ isn’t feeling well,” I told him flatly. “But since you’re inclined to play the servant perhaps you would be so kind as to clean this mess up.” I gestured at the corpse and then eased past him. Penny came up and took one of the mugs of ale.

“Oh that’s very kind of you Marcus,” she said and followed me down the hall.

He stared after us for a moment before returning to the kitchen with his tray, leaving Dorian standing alone in the great hall. Dorian gave the dead man’s body a steady look. “Well damn,” he said to himself.

A few hours later I stood in the castle yard watching Cyhan’s group returning. He reined his horse in beside me and looked down. “You did your work well,” he complimented me. It wasn’t the sort of praise I relished.

“How did it look out there?” I asked.

“At a guess they lost almost eight of every ten of their men. Your magic was most effective. We searched the road for survivors but most were dead before we found them,” he told me.

“Were you able to ride all the way to Arundel?”

“No, there were a few groups of cavalry patrolling, we were forced to return or face a pitched battle. They still outnumber us by a considerable margin,” he informed me. “From what I could see they are reforming in the valley, much as we had hoped.”

I remembered what Mal’goroth had told me and winced inwardly. I couldn’t know how much of what he had told me was true, but the knowledge made my task even harder. “How soon before they’re able to field an effective force?”

Cyhan’s brow furrowed in thought, “It should take them a week at least. Their army is burdened by a large number of wounded. They’ll have to reorganize, sending those unable to fight back to Gododdin. Some of the lightly injured will be kept, if they can fight within a few days.”

“I’m surprised they still have the stomach to fight.”

“Whatever Vendraccus is using to motivate them is highly effective. Any normal army would have routed after today,” Cyhan remarked before leading his horse toward the stables.

I watched him go. Tonight then, I thought. I couldn’t afford to let them reorganize. I went looking for Dorian.

“More bodies for me to dispose of?” he asked me sarcastically when I found him. He was inspecting a group of warriors preparing for the next patrol mission.

Despite my dark mood I chuckled a bit at that. “Not this time, although there are plenty out there that need your expertise,” I gestured at the gate and the road that led toward the valley. “I need to know how many men we have left. I’m planning to destroy the dam tonight, so we’ll want to prepare for a sortie in the morning.”

“Seven hundred and twelve,” he answered promptly. I was surprised at his exact count, but then on second thought I shouldn’t have been. Dorian had always been meticulous, especially when he was worried, which was most of the time. “I’ll have them ready at dawn,” he added.

I nodded. “Where do you plan to scout next?” I asked.

“We’re going to head through the forest to the east, toward Lancaster. We’ll make our way through to the road between here and there,” he replied simply.

“There shouldn’t be any in that direction,” I commented.

“The key word is shouldn’t, ” he said grimly. “It isn’t a word I like to hear when it comes to battle. That word has killed more men than any other word, except perhaps one.” He waited for my inevitable question.

I sighed and asked, “What word is that?”

“Charge,” he replied with a smile.

Dorian left after that, taking fifty riders with him. I hoped they wouldn’t find anything.

The day wore slowly on. I had expected Dorian and his men to return within a short span of hours but he failed to appear on time. As each hour passed beyond the time he should have returned I grew more anxious. He wouldn’t have delayed unless something prevented him… or he was dead.

Joe stood beside me on the rampart, watching for their return. “Something bad has happened,” he stated.

While I admired the man’s tenacity, his penchant for stating the obvious was annoying sometimes. “He’ll be back,” I replied.

“How do you know?” he asked me.

“Because he has to be,” I said darkly. In spite of my optimistic words I felt in my heart that something had gone terribly wrong. Another hour dragged by and the sun was beginning to set. I was about to give up my fruitless watch and go inside when I spotted riders coming up the road.

They were too far to make out with my eyes but with my mind I found Dorian among them and breathed a sigh of relief. They were riding hard, as if the army of Gododdin was racing behind them but I saw no others on the road.

A few minutes later I met him in the yard. “What happened?” I asked impatiently.

“They’re heading for Lancaster!” Dorian shouted before I finished my question.

“What? How many?”

“All of them as far as I can tell,” he replied.

“But the other scouts report they’ve made camp in the valley,” I told him.

“It must be only their wounded. We came across nearly five thousand soldiers on the road. Barely escaped once they caught sight of us. They sent a cavalry detachment after us; chased us halfway back here. I don’t think they wanted us to know where they were headed. There’s no one but women and children there! We have to send out the men, all of them, try to draw them back.” Dorian’s tone was full of stress. I had never seen him so close to outright panic.

“Wait, let me think,” I replied.

“There’s no time to think! We have to respond immediately! Every second brings them closer to Lancaster. There are no defenders there and we’ll never lift the siege if they close around them. Not that they could keep them out anyway. They’re hauling siege engines behind them Mort!” he was shouting now.

Siege engines? Where in the hell had they gotten those? None had been spotted before now. I suspected they might have had the parts in the supply train, which had largely survived intact, but I couldn’t imagine how they had moved them so quickly. I closed my eyes, struggling to think and suppress my own panic.

“Mort! We have to move now!” Dorian shouted again.