John Flanagan - Oakleaf bearers

"He's very good," he said quietly.

"Who's that?" Erak asked, the last word being torn from him as his horse lurched and slid a few steps. Halt indicated the trail he was following. The Skandian looked but couldn't see a thing.

"The Tem'uj," Halt continued. "He's covering his tracks as he goes. I don't think your man would have been able to follow him."

Which was the crux of the matter. When Halt and Erak had agreed to join forces the previous night, it had been the result of their mutual need. Halt's natural inclination had been to see what the Temujai were up to. Erak had the same need. But he also had need of Halt's tracking skills. He was only too aware of his own men's limitations.

"Well," he said jerkily, "that's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Yes." Halt smiled grimly. "The question is, why are you?"

Erak wisely said nothing. He concentrated his efforts into staying astride the shaggy horse as it struggled up the steep slope, under the unaccustomed weight of the bulky Skandian sea captain.

They came to the crest with a sudden rush, their horses scrambling the last few meters through the wet snow. They found themselves looking down on a deep, wide valley, and beyond that, another range of hills.

Below them on the vast plain, a mass of campfires sent columns of smoke spiraling into the late-afternoon air, spreading as far as the eye could see-thousands of them, surrounded by more thousands of dome-shaped felt tents. The smell of the smoke reached them now. Not heady and scented, like pine smoke, but acrid and sour smelling. Erak wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"What are they burning?" he asked.

"Dried horse dung," Halt replied briefly. "They carry their fuel source with them. Look."

He pointed to where the Temujai horse herd could be seen, a giant, amorphous mass that seemed to flow across the valley floor as the horses sought fresh grazing.

"Gorlog's teeth!" Erak exclaimed, stunned at the numbers. "How many are there?"

"Ten thousand, maybe twelve," Halt replied briefly. The Skandian let out a low whistle.

"Are you sure? How can you tell?" It wasn't a sensible question, but Erak was overwhelmed by the size of the horse herd and he asked the question more for something to say than for any other reason. Halt looked at him dryly.

"It's an old cavalry trick," he said. "You count the legs and divide by four."

Erak returned the look. "I was just making conversation, Ranger," he said. Halt seemed singularly unimpressed by the statement.

"Then don't," he replied shortly. There was silence as they studied the enemy camp.

"Are you saying there are ten to twelve thousand warriors down there?" Erak asked finally. The number was a daunting one. At best, Skandia could put a force of fifteen hundred warriors in the field to face them. Perhaps two thousand, at the outside. That meant odds of six or seven to one. But Halt was shaking his head.

"More like five to six thousand," he estimated. "Each warrior will have at least two horses. There are probably another four to five thousand personnel in the baggage train and supply columns, but they wouldn't be combatants."

That was a little better, thought Erak. The odds had reduced to around three or four to one. A little better, he thought. Not a lot.

Not a lot by a long way.

'W AIT HERE," H ALT SAID BRIEFLY. "I' M GOING DOWN FOR A closer look."

"To hell with waiting here," Erak told him. "I'm coming with you."

Halt looked at the big Skandian, knowing it would be useless to argue. Still, he made the attempt. "I suppose it will make no difference if I point out I'm going to have to be as inconspicuous as possible?"

Erak shook his head. "Not in the slightest. I'm not taking back a secondhand report to my Oberjarl. I want to get a closer look at these people, get some idea of what we're up against."

"I can tell you what you're up against," Halt said grimly.

"I'll see for myself," the jarl said stubbornly, and Halt shrugged, finally giving in.

"All right. But move carefully, and try not to make too much noise. The Temujai aren't idiots, you know. They'll have pickets out in the trees around the camp, as well as sentries on the perimeter."

"Well, you just tell me where they are and I'll avoid them," Erak replied, with a little heat. "I can be inconspicuous when I need to."

"Just like you can ride, I suppose," Halt muttered to himself. The Skandian ignored the comment, continuing to glare stubbornly at him. Halt shrugged. "Well, let's get on with it."

They tethered their horses on the reverse side of the crest, then began to work their way down through the trees to the valley below them. They had gone a few hundred meters when Halt turned to the Skandian.

"Are there bears in these mountains?" he asked.

His companion nodded. "Of course. But it's a bit early in the year for them to be moving around. Why?"

Halt let go a long breath. "Just a vague hope, really. There's a chance that when the Temujai hear you crashing around in the trees, they might think you're a bear."

Erak smiled, with his mouth only. His eyes were as cold as the snow.

"You're a very amusing fellow," he told Halt. "I'd like to brain you with my ax one of these days."

"If you could manage to do it quietly, I'd almost welcome it," Halt said. Then he turned away and continued to lead the way down the hill, ghosting between the trees, sliding from one patch of shadow to the next, barely disturbing a branch or a twig as he passed.

Erak tried, unsuccessfully, to match the Ranger's silent movement. With each slither of his feet in the snow, each whip of a branch as he passed, Halt's teeth went more and more on edge. He had just determined that he would have to leave the Skandian behind once they got within striking distance of the Temujai camp when he glimpsed something off to their left in the trees. Quickly, he held up his hand for Erak to stop. The big Skandian, not understanding the imperative nature of the gesture, kept moving till he was alongside Halt.

"What is it?" he asked. He kept his voice low, but to Halt it seemed like a bellow that echoed among the trees.

He placed his own mouth next to the Skandian's ear and breathed, in a barely audible voice, "Listening post. In the trees."

It was a familiar Temujai technique: whenever a force camped for the night, they threw out a screen of concealed, two-man listening posts to give early warning of any attempt at a surprise attack. He and Erak had just passed such a post, so that it now lay to their left and slightly behind them. For a moment, Halt toyed with the idea of continuing down the hill, then he discarded it. The screen was usually deployed in depth. Just because they had passed one post didn't mean there weren't others ahead of them. He decided it might be best to cut their losses and extract themselves as quietly as possible, trusting the gathering darkness to conceal them. It would mean abandoning the idea of getting a closer look at the Temujai force, but it couldn't be helped. Besides, with Erak along, it was unlikely they would get much closer without being seen-or, more likely, heard. He leaned close to the other man and spoke softly once more.

"Follow me. Go slowly. And watch where you put your feet."

The snow under the trees was strewn with dead branches and pinecones. Several times as they'd made their way downhill, he had winced as Erak had trod, heavy-footed, on fallen branches, breaking them with seemingly earsplitting cracks.

Silently, Halt flitted between the trees, moving like a wraith, sliding into cover after he'd gone some fifty paces. He looked back and waved the Skandian on, watched for a moment with mounting apprehension as the big man moved, swaying awkwardly as he placed his feet with exaggerated care. Finally, unable to watch him any longer, Halt looked anxiously to the left, to see if there was any sign that the men in the listening post had seen or heard them.