Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘We could hide the bodies… ’

‘Do as you’re told, Symm,’ Drago erupted suddenly and furiously. ‘You and that stinking knife will get us all killed yet.’

The blond man’s face contorted with anger, and he turned the blade towards Drago.

Drago looked at him icily. ‘Use it or put it away. Count of three,’ he said softly but without hesitation. The hand holding the axe went behind his back, leaving his front seemingly defenceless.

‘One.’

Yengar and Olvric watched intently. Symm did not move.

‘Two.’

Symm’s eyes flickered over the watchers, most of whom had taken a pace backwards. He swallowed nervously.

Drago formed the word ‘three’, but Symm’s left hand went out before he could speak it. ‘Peace,’ he said, his voice hoarse and bitter. Drago did not move.

Slowly Symm replaced the knife in its scabbard, his jaw working.

‘My friendship for your father won’t save you if you do anything like that again,’ Drago said angrily. ‘You give me one more problem, Symm, and the Muster’ll find your corpse. Now get those horses and start looking for food.’

The blond man nodded to some of the others, and they wandered off into the darkness.

Drago took hold of Sylvriss’s arm. ‘You’re ours now, woman,’ he said. ‘Don’t be frightened. No one’s going to hurt you if you behave.’ His tone was incongruously paternal.

Sylvriss caught Yengar’s eye and in response to his urgent appeal she remained silent.

‘If you’re running from the Muster, you don’t want her with you,’ Yengar said. ‘She rides like a duck and has to stop and rest every two minutes. That’s why the snows caught us. She’ll hold you back.’

Drago looked at Sylvriss uncertainly. ‘She doesn’t look like the complaining type to me,’ he said. Then, taking her chin roughly, he turned her face so that the torchlight from the entrance to the shelter fell on it. A tremor went through her body and Drago tightened his grip as if he were shaking a wilful dog.

‘No,’ he said confidently. ‘Look at those eyes. This one doesn’t complain. She’s more likely to knife you in your sleep.’

‘Either way,’ said Yengar with a shrug. ‘She’s a prob-lem.’

Drago looked inclined to agree, but, ‘It’s the new Chief’s law,’ he said resignedly. ‘It’s more than my neck’s worth not to, especially as she’s pregnant. We need the breeding stock.’ He dismissed his hesitation. ‘Anyway,’ he said scornfully, ‘I don’t need advice on how to handle women from some Fyordyn servant who can’t even find his way across dry land. I’ve not met a woman yet that couldn’t be brought to heel with a whipping if need arose. You save your concern for yourselves. It’s a long way to anywhere from here.’

Yengar was about to reply when there was a crash nearby, followed by a series of colourful curses. Suddenly a brilliant light flared up. Yengar turned away quickly, but not until he had caught a glimpse of a man picking himself up off the ground while another, holding the unusually brilliant torch, was reaching down to help him. Various other individuals were struggling to harness the now startled horses.

‘Put that out,’ Drago thundered. ‘It’ll be seen miles away.’

The light dimmed, then vanished and a reproachful voice came out of the darkness. ‘Drago, we can’t see a damn thing out here,’ it said.

Drago was unsympathetic. ‘Neither can I now, you fish head,’ he said angrily, screwing up his eyes. ‘Just get those horses here.’

Yengar and Olvric exchanged glances. That torch…?

But that would have to be considered later. Now, other thoughts were more pressing. Losing the horses would be bad enough, but the Morlider couldn’t be allowed to take the Queen.

Yengar took a chance. ‘How long is your ship going to wait for you, Drago?’ he said. ‘If the Muster know you’re here, they’ll be patrolling the coast for it. Can you really afford to burden yourself with this?’ He nodded towards Sylvriss.

Drago’s eyes narrowed.

‘I was a cadet runner at the end of the war,’ Yengar said, answering the unspoken question. ‘And I’ve got kin in Riddin. I know something about your people and I know how the Muster work. It’s an ill tide that’s brought you here, but if you’ve not hurt anyone there’s a fair chance that even now they’ll let you reach your ship and leave. But if they see you’ve taken a woman… ’ He looked significantly at Drago and pitched his voice in the tone of a friendly adviser. ‘I don’t know what law obliges you to take her, but I’d put the law of survival above it if I were you.’

Drago looked uncertain again, but before he could speak, Symm and the others returned with the horses. Their appearance seemed to decide him.

He looked distastefully at the horses. ‘I don’t like these things,’ he said. ‘But they’ll be quicker than walking and might even confuse the Muster at a distance if they think we’re still on foot.’

He thrust his axe into his belt, and took Sylvriss by the arm. ‘You’d better ride with me,’ he said, pulling her forward. Then, turning to her, ‘I don’t know how you behave with these minnows here, lady, but you give me any trouble and you’ll travel unconscious across my lap.’ He offered her his fist again in token of this promise. ‘It’s your choice. Now mount up.’

Head bowed, Sylvriss walked to her horse and, with elaborate clumsiness, hoisted herself into the saddle. Yengar noticed her whispering to the horse in the process.

Drago reached up and prepared to join her, but as he did so, Sylvriss cried out and tugged on the reins. Screaming, the horse reared and spun round several times, knocking Drago to the ground and scattering both men and horses. Then she was gone, the sound of her horse pounding into the night.

Yengar had expected the Queen to take some action once she was mounted, but even so, the suddenness of her response left him gaping momentarily.

Angry roaring from Drago brought Yengar back to the present. There would be no more debate now. He swung round and struck the nearest man in the face with the edge of his clenched fist. The blow did little harm but it stunned the man sufficiently for Yengar to seize the large knife that was thrust in his belt.

Olvric was less considerate. Symm’s eyes lit up sav-agely at the change in temper of his leader and he strode towards Olvric, purposefully reaching for his knife. He drew it with the same elaborate flourish he had used before. It was obviously a habit he had cultivated for the purpose of intimidating his victims, and as such it was a mistake, as Olvric demonstrated by delivering a brutal blow to his jaw in the middle of the performance. The impact sent Symm sprawling face downwards on the ground and there was a quality in the sound of it which told Yengar that Olvric had used his iron knuckle protectors.

Instinctively, the two Goraidin moved back to back, but they were joined almost immediately by the four High Guards who had tumbled out of the shelter as soon as the first blow was struck.

Swords were handed hastily to the two Goraidin, and the six men formed themselves into a close circle.

Recovering quickly, the Morlider formed a larger, more hesitant circle around them.

‘You’re High Guards, all of you,’ Drago snarled con-temptuously. ‘I should’ve smelt it.’

He pointed to Yengar. ‘Cadet runner.’ He spat. ‘If you were anything, you were one of Rgoric’s infantry. I should’ve cut you all down when you crawled out of your hole.’

Yengar made no sign.

Drago’s fist opened and closed. ‘I lost kin and friends at the hands of your people,’ he said.

‘As did I at the hands of yours, Morlider,’ Yengar replied, unable to keep his own anger from his voice but still searching for a peaceful conclusion to the confron-tation. ‘Do you want us both to lose more here? You shouldn’t have come then, and you shouldn’t have come now. Take the horses and go while you’ve the chance.’