Roger Taylor - Ibryen

Dull lanterns were being hung from the ceiling. The hiss of the rain striking the stones was becoming a low drumming note. Jeyan motioned the two Commanders to leave her.

She stood as if unable to move, until the great dark tent was completed. Then, head bowed, she turned and went back into her own.

Marris cast a sour glance across the valley. He could not see the far side. In fact, he could barely see to the far side of the village through the steadily streaming rain. The sole consolation he could find in the weather was that it was at least not windy. Still, whatever the conditions, he’d have to do his rounds – visit the outer perimeter guards and exchange a grumble or two about the rain while ensuring they were all still alert. Not that there should be anything to be particularly alert about at the moment. True, the passes were clearing rapidly, but the Gevethen had never sent anything against them so early in the year, and Iscar had brought no hint of unusual army activity. And the death of Hagen would surely have caused the Gevethen a great many problems. In his brighter moments, Marris even toyed with the notion that this unexpected assassination would cause such difficulties that perhaps no expedition would be made against them at all this year. He did not toy with it for long however, and never spoke it out loud, even in ironic jest. It was equally probable, as Ibryen had said before he left, that the Gevethen might mount an early campaign to draw attention away from those same problems.

And, for all the assurances he rehearsed, he still felt the unease he always felt when the weather closed in like this. At times it was an invaluable ally, enabling his people to move quickly about the mountains with much less fear of discovery and to launch sudden ambushes and vanish almost immediately. But that was when the enemy’s position was known. The danger when it was not known was that it could be they who were laying the ambush. On the whole, Marris preferred to see what was happening, despite the increased risk it brought to moving safely.

‘Are you ready?’ Hynard came out of the Council Hall still fastening his cape. He gave the valley a glance similar to the one Marris had given it, then, at Marris’s nod, the two of them set off. They did not speak as they walked through the silent village. This was partly due to the mountain discipline that was always with them, but also due to the fact that they had little to say to one another. Whether it was just the absence of Ibryen and Rachyl or the strange reasons that had been given for their going, it was not possible to say, but the whole community had been subtly unsettled and the two men were not immune. Both of them had set their faces resolutely against worrying and while both succeeded in looking unconcerned, both actually failed. The net result was an alternation of awkward silences and bursts of forced heartiness.

Not that either had any serious concerns – yet. Those they would have given voice to immediately. After all, Ibryen had said he would be away for a month at the most and what was to be served by fretting after only a few days? Yet the two absences dragged – made looking forward difficult – introduced too many unresolvable, ‘What ifs?’

They walked on through the rain in silence and were challenged successfully at each of the outer perimeter guard posts.

Hynard smiled as they left the last one. ‘I wonder if this alertness is due to Ibryen’s “Vigilance must be re-doubled”, or your suddenly doing three times as many tours of inspection?’

But Marris did not respond. He was staring into the mist, preoccupied.

‘I said…’

Marris raised a hand.

‘What’s the matter?’ Hynard asked softly, abandoning his light-hearted taunt.

Marris curled up his nose in irritation. ‘Something feels bad,’ he said, looking from side to side as if that might help him see better through the mist. Hynard did not ask for clarification. He sensed nothing himself but Ibryen’s followers trusted one another’s instincts and he stayed silent.

The two of them stood for some time, then Marris shook his head, though his expression was more concerned than ever. ‘I can’t hear anything,’ Hynard whispered, to prompt him.

‘Nor I,’ Marris said after a long pause. Then he shrugged. ‘Probably imagination,’ he decided, though without conviction.

Hynard looked at him doubtfully. For a moment he considered offering Marris another taunt about his lack of imagination, but Marris’s mood was contagious. Instead, he opted for action. ‘Let’s check the north end ridge-post while we’re here,’ he said. ‘This rain’s in for the day, there’s no chance of us being seen.’

It would probably be dark when they returned, making the journey difficult, but Marris nodded his head and moved off without further debate.

Despite the poor visibility and the unlikelihood of there being any Gevethen troops or spies in the area, the two men moved with increasing caution as they neared their destination. They stopped from time to time and listened, but nothing was to be heard except the sound of the rain and the many streams that tumbled down the valley sides. Each time Hynard glanced at Marris however, the older man still looked uneasy.

They both stopped suddenly. Hynard pointed as the movement which had caught their attention occurred again. It appeared to be a solitary figure. Both of them crouched down slowly and edged their way to the shelter of some nearby rocks. The figure continued towards them.

‘It’s no stranger, moving so quickly and using the cover like that,’ Hynard whispered.

‘It’s a runner from one of the ridge look-outs then,’ Marris replied. ‘What the devil’s he playing at?’

He was about to stand up and hail the figure when Hynard seized his arm and pointed frantically. Coming into view were other figures. There were four of them altogether and they too were moving quickly, though not in the manner of one of Ibryen’s people. And they were noisy. Not that they were shouting, but to the ever-sensitive ears of Marris and Hynard, the clatter of their weapons stood out above the murmur of the valley as clearly as if they had been ringing hand-bells.

‘Ye gods, they’re army,’ Hynard hissed as they drew closer. The two of them became very still, making themselves indistinguishable from the rocks they were sheltering amongst. Marris glanced after the fleeing look-out, his mind racing. Ibryen’s conjecturing had been right then, the Gevethen were launching an early attack to draw attention away from difficulties in the city. But patrols had never ventured into this inconspicuous little valley before. And what was that idiot of a runner doing leaving his post when they were about? Worse, what was he doing leading his pursuers back towards the village? More immediate concerns pushed the questions aside. The man was passing them now and it looked as though he was going to pay a harsher price for his folly than any reproach he could have expected from his peers.

‘They’re going to catch him,’ Marris said. ‘He’s hurt. He’s limping.’

Hynard swore softly. It was the limit of their debate. They did not need to discuss the seriousness of what was happening. Having seen someone, the four soldiers would have to be killed, even though that would risk bringing others after them. Normally, in some distant valley, that was no great problem, but here, so close to the village…

Marris clenched his fists at the thought.

Yet what could he and Hynard do? For the two of them to attack four was out of the question. To stand any chance at all it would be essential to fall on the men suddenly and silently, and radically improve the odds before the attack was even suspected. Yet placed as they were, even that hazardous option was impossible. The soldiers were too far away and too spread out.