Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

Sylvriss’s face wrinkled in distaste. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘But we’d better lose them at the first opportu-nity.’ Discreetly she urged her horse into a fast trot. Serian followed. ‘If we’re careful,’ she said. ‘We should be able to tire their horses gradually, and then outrun them.’

Isloman nodded again. ‘Take care,’ he said. ‘Don’t do anything impulsive. We can’t outrun that archer, and the others are all carrying bows as well. At least we’re travelling the right way at the moment. If we stop I’ll try and speak to Gavor. He might be able to help distract them if we decide to run for it.’

As the party moved steadily eastwards along the forest road, the rain gradually died out, leaving an overcast, unpromising sky. As usual, now they were riding again, Isloman noticed Sylvriss’s manner lightening. The air was cool and damp about them, and small clouds of steam started to rise above the treetops lining the steep slopes around them.

The horses splashed through the shallow puddles that mottled the uneven road, throwing up showers of spray, silver even under the grey sky, and occasionally they would ride through a gloomy arbour formed by overhanging trees, where the sound of the horses’ hooves would seem to echo.

Skilfully and imperceptibly, Sylvriss broke up the pace of the journey, riding now faster, now slower, but always keeping a modest distance in front of the patrol so that they would not become concerned.

Eventually, Criach rode alongside. ‘Majesty,’ he said, rather breathlessly. ‘Our horses are not as fine as yours, and they’ve been riding for several days already. Could we rest awhile?’

Sylvriss turned to him, then looking back at the following patrol she reined her horse to a halt. ‘I’m sorry, trooper,’ she said. ‘I was anxious about the envoy and I’d forgotten your horses were tired.’

As the others reached them, Isloman noted them discreetly puffing out cheeks and exchanging wide-eyed glances. The Queen’s finely judged riding was taking a toll already.

His satisfaction at this, however, vanished immedi-ately as a large group of riders came around a bend in the road ahead. They were Mathidrin and they were galloping.

Isloman looked quickly at the Queen. His own thoughts were reflected clearly on her face. This troop must inevitably escort them back to Vakloss. She caught his look and, with a sudden cry, urged her horse forward off the road and into the trees. Without any signal from Isloman, Serian followed, and once again Isloman found himself a passenger on a Muster horse at full gallop as the great horse surged after the Queen.

There was a confused shouting behind them, but Isloman could make nothing of it. Somewhere above him he thought he could hear Gavor calling, but everything was lost in the din of the two horses crashing through the forest.

Abruptly the trees thinned out into a large clearing and, to his horror, Isloman saw a line of Mathidrin horsemen had moved to cut them off. The Queen’s horse reared and spun round. Serian halted rapidly, but more cautiously, in deference to his burden. Twisting round, Isloman saw more Mathidrin behind them. Then there were horsemen all around and closing in rapidly.

He heard the swish of a sword being drawn, and felt Sylvriss’s horse bump into his leg. He reached down to protect Hawklan’s head. ‘Back to back, Orthlundyn,’ came the Queen’s voice, urgent and commanding. ‘Look to your sword and trust your horse, they’re trained for this. We’re not finished yet. Whoever’s in charge of these people is good but there are weaknesses in the line. They’ll leave a gap and we’ll be through it before they know what’s happened.’ Isloman drew his sword almost unthinkingly and the approaching riders slowed to a walk.

For a moment the only sound in the clearing was the soft clatter of tackle and the light footfalls of the horses through the undergrowth. Serian and the Queen’s horse, side by side and head to tail, turned methodically on the spot. Isloman and Sylvriss, swords drawn, waited.

Then the approaching riders stopped and one of them moved forward. At the same time, Gavor landed on Serian’s head.

‘What are you doing, dear boy?’ he asked.

Isloman stared at him, taken aback by the question, but before he could reply, the lone rider spoke.

‘Majesty,’ he said with a slight bow. ‘My apologies for startling you, but when Gavor told me some of my men had found you I was anxious to get here as quickly as possible.’

The Queen’s eyes narrowed menacingly, first at Gavor and then at the speaker, but Isloman cut across whatever intent she had formed. He smiled. ‘How’s your shoulder, Dacu?’ he asked.

The Mathidrin reached up and pulled off his helmet to confirm Isloman’s shadow sight. ‘Still stiff from time to time, Isloman,’ Dacu said, smiling and rolling his shoulder in demonstration.

‘Our own healers are very good, but I miss Hawk-lan’s massage.’

He nodded in the direction of Hawklan’s body, his smile fading sadly.

He turned back to the Queen, who was still levelling her sword at him suspiciously. ‘Again, my apologies, Majesty, if our uniforms and our hasty approach startled you. After Gavor found me and told me what had happened I was concerned for the safety of my charges and was anxious to reach you as soon as possible.’

The Queen raised her eyebrows. ‘More concerned for your men than for your Queen, Mathidrin?’ she said, acidly.

Seeing his erstwhile companion beginning to floun-der, Isloman intervened. ‘This man is Goraidin Dacu, lady. He was one of the party that released Lord Eldric and the others.’ He waved an arm round the black circle. ‘I suspect these men here are High Guards on a training exercise.’

Dacu nodded gratefully. Slowly the Queen lowered first her sword, and then her eyes. She did not speak for some time and Isloman noticed that she was breathing slowly and deeply, dissipating the desperate battle tensions that had led them both on their brief flight. Quiet woodland sounds filled the air as the group waited in silence: the trees rustling slightly, scattering gathered raindrops onto the undergrowth; a horse shaking its head; a rider’s whispered reassurance; the scurrying of small animals and birds resuming their daily rounds.

Then, looking up, the Queen sheathed her sword. ‘I’m sorry if we frightened your men,’ she said with an ironic smile. ‘But perhaps you could spare us one or two to guide us on the rest of our journey.’

‘We were due to return home today, Majesty,’ Dacu said, heartened by this response. ‘This exercise is finished. If you’ll allow us to return to break up our main camp we can escort you in force.’

‘Thank you Goraidin,’ Sylvriss replied. ‘But I fear you’ll be too slow for us. We’re anxious to get Hawklan to proper care as quickly as possible.’ As she spoke, she looked around searchingly at the waiting men. ‘I think those men will do, Goraidin, if you can spare them,’ she said, indicating three of them.

Dacu seemed uncertain. ‘At your command, Maj-esty, but… ’

‘Are there any real Mathidrin patrols between here and Lord Eldric’s estate?’ the Queen asked, cutting across Dacu’s reservations.

‘Not that we’ve seen, Majesty,’ Dacu said. ‘But… ’

‘Good,’ Sylvriss ploughed on. ‘We’ll stop at your camp so that your men can pick up supplies, then we’ll head for Lord Eldric’s stronghold as quickly as we can.’

Dacu glanced briefly at Isloman, but saw the carver was looking down pensively at Hawklan’s body.

The Queen moved alongside Dacu. ‘Don’t worry, Goraidin,’ she said. ‘I’ve picked your best riders, they’ll not slow us down too much, and they’ll probably save us a lot of time in the end just by knowing the way.’ Dacu nodded reluctantly. ‘Don’t worry,’ the queen repeated reassuringly. ‘We’ve come so far unscathed. Five of us and the bird will be safe enough.’ She paused briefly. ‘But I’ll take three of your reserve mounts from your camp as well,’ she added as an afterthought. Then she moved closer, and lowered her voice. ‘I’ve another task for you, Goraidin.’ Dacu leaned forward. ‘I’d like you to take some of your men as far towards Vakloss as you can. At your discretion, of course. No unnecessary risks are to be taken, but the King and perhaps Lord Eldric should be heading this way and may need your aid.’