Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘What about the horses?’ Isloman shouted. ‘We’ve an injured man here.’

‘Let the other fellow lead the horses,’ came the reply. ‘You keep well to the front, and keep your hands up.’

Slowly and conspicuously Isloman replaced his club in his belt, at the same time surreptitiously loosening his sword. Without comment, the Queen took Serian’s reins from him.

Isloman soon saw their attacker. His brow wrinkled slightly. The man’s position was worrying. To anyone without the sight of an Orthlundyn carver, he was well hidden; part way up a tree, but securely balanced, with a good field of fire, and yet able to abandon his position at speed if need arose. And his ability to shoot straight and with discretion was already proved. If the others in this patrol were as well trained, it would be difficult to find opportunities for escape.

As they drew nearer, Isloman affected to look around for him, and he feigned great surprise when the man jumped down lightly several paces in front of him, bow raised. For all the sureness of his challenge, he seemed young and nervous. ‘You startled me,’ Isloman said, stepping back and smiling.

The Mathidrin, however, did not respond to this pleasantry. ‘Keep your distance, and follow me,’ he said tersely. Isloman nodded. ‘Well, I see from your uniform you’re not a robber anyway… ’ he began.

‘Be quiet, and keep walking,’ said the man.

Very soon, Isloman saw the Mathidrin camp through the undergrowth. Like the sentry, it was well hidden, and implied a degree of training that he would not have imagined the Mathidrin capable of. He frowned again.

‘Ho, the camp,’ shouted the sentry.

There was no reply.

The man glanced quickly over his shoulder. ‘Ho, the camp,’ he shouted, more loudly, an excess of rasping anger in his voice further betraying both his youth and his nervousness. ‘Prisoners coming in.’

This time there was a response. A tousled head ap-peared out of the makeshift shelter and cast a weary glance upwards into the rain. ‘Very funny, Crooper,’ it said sarcastically. ‘Very funny. It’s not our fault you drew last watch. You didn’t have to wake us all up in the middle of the night.’

‘It’s nearer the middle of the morning, Criach,’ the young man snapped back. ‘You should’ve relieved me an hour ago, but let that pass. Get your idle behind out here, right now, we’ve got visitors.’

The party came in full sight of the shelter, and the head, startled, disappeared. After a small commotion, Criach reappeared in a state of barely modest undress: a cloak thrown loosely over his head and shoulders. He shivered slightly in the morning rain.

Isloman was about to smile vacantly again when the Queen swept past him, hood thrown right back, and cloak opened a little to reveal in part her Muster uniform. ‘Well done, men,’ she said authoritatively. ‘You keep an excellent guard considering you’re so far from the City. I’ll see that your vigilance is mentioned to your superior officers.’

Crooper’s bow wavered uncertainly and his face showed he was struggling to identify this suddenly transformed ‘other fellow’. Criach reacted more quickly, hissing something to him urgently and stepping in front of his raised bow as the Queen approached. He saluted as well as he was able with one hand clutching his cloak. The Queen returned the salute. ‘Wake your Sirshiant please, trooper,’ she said. ‘We’ve an injured man here and we’ve lost our way. We need your help urgently.’

‘Majesty, there’s no Sirshiant with us,’ Criach said, hesitantly. ‘We’re on a special initiative exercise. But how can we help you, ma’am?’

Sylvriss raised her eyebrows. ‘No Sirshiant, trooper?’ she said, pulling her hood forward again as the rain intensified. ‘That’s unusual. Tell me about it as we ride. Get changed now, quickly. You’re getting soaked. And that goes for the rest of you.’

The last comment was made to other heads that had appeared out of the shelter to abuse the cause of the disturbance.

‘Quickly,’ the Queen repeated loudly, and the heads disappeared, along with Criach. Only Crooper remained, now standing stiffly to attention.

‘Stand easy,’ the Queen said pleasantly. The young man relaxed, but still seemed to be unusually nervous.

‘Don’t worry, trooper,’ the Queen added, comfort-ingly. ‘You’re not going to get in trouble for challenging your Commander-in-Chief. We were strangers ap-proaching the camp. You’d no choice, and you did well.’

‘Yes ma’am. Thank you,’ Crooper replied uncer-tainly.

Sylvriss turned to Isloman to say something, but he was examining Hawklan. ‘How is he?’ she asked, changing her question.

Isloman shrugged fretfully. ‘The same,’ he replied. ‘But I won’t be happy until we get some proper care for him. His cloak’s keeping him warm and dry, but… ’ His voice faded and he glanced quickly at Crooper, now shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. ‘We must get away from these people as soon as possible,’ he whispered.

‘I know,’ said Sylvriss softly. ‘But there’s something odd about this group though I can’t pinpoint it.’

‘Odd?’ Isloman queried. Sylvriss did not reply but turned to meet the troopers now emerging from their shelter. They lined up quickly and smartly, though all seemed ill-at-ease. Crooper joined them.

The Queen looked at them briefly, then, walking to her horse, she mounted and signalled Isloman to do the same. ‘Gentlemen,’ she said. ‘We’ve no time for formalities. Break camp immediately and mount up.’ She indicated Hawklan. ‘We have to get the envoy here to a healer as soon as possible.’ There was some hesitation.

‘Majesty,’ Criach said. ‘We’ve been out some time. We haven’t the supplies to get to Vakloss, and the horses are nearly spent.’

Sylvriss glanced at Isloman, her face puzzled. It was not so far to Vakloss that a group of young men couldn’t survive the journey without supplies.

‘And what about your own escort?’ Criach contin-ued. ‘Won’t they be waiting for you somewhere?’

Only careful intonation prevented the question being insolent. The queen answered it simply. ‘We only had a small group,’ she said. ‘Three. A token escort for the envoy here. We got caught by a rock fall amp;mdasha bad one. I’m afraid they were all killed. The envoy was hurt and we lost our way.’

Criach looked distressed, but his manner did not ring true. Rather, he seemed relieved.

He paused thoughtfully. ‘The nearest help will be… to the east, Majesty,’ he said. ‘Lord Eldric’s estate.’

Sylvriss looked at him narrowly. ‘Lord Eldric is currently under arrest in Vakloss, trooper, and his friends are reputed to be preparing for a rebellion. Are you seriously suggesting I seek help at his door?’

Criach looked helpless. ‘Majesty, it is the nearest place where you’ll get proper medical help. I’m sure the Lords wouldn’t treat you other than honourably and with the utmost respect.’ Then, almost as an after-thought, ‘Unfortunately, of course, we’d only be able to escort you part of the way.’

Sylvriss frowned, then nodded. ‘Very well,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Break camp quickly, and mount up.’

A little later, as the group rode out of the trees and joined the road, Sylvriss signalled to Isloman and the two trotted slightly ahead of the patrol.

‘There’s something definitely odd about these men,’ she said. ‘Their horses are far from spent and I’ve never met a Mathidrin who’d even think in terms of an enemy showing honour and respect to an enemy; they’re back-stabbers to a man. These men are more like High Guards.’

Isloman nodded. The Queen’s words chimed with his own thoughts but the ominous black liveries disturbed him. ‘Just stay alert,’ he said. ‘They’re wearing Dan-Tor’s uniform and we must assume they’re his men, for all their courteous behaviour. From what I understand, your country’s very divided about him. The Mathidrin could be drawing people from many sources by now.’