Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

"No, not yet. He's still too young to take it. Soon, now, it will be his, but I will have to be convinced that he is old enough to understand why I have kept it from him until then."

Ambrose looked at me from beneath a raised eyebrow, then smiled sardonically, changing his grip on Excalibur to grasp it by the cross guard and extending the hilt to me. "Now, that," he drawled, "was a convoluted statement, but I think I understood it."

"Excellent. Let's hear you repeat it, then."

"The boy's too young and won't be old enough to know until he's old enough to know that he's too young. Is that not what you said?"

I laughed and closed the lid on the polished case, returning the glorious sword to its storage space. "Exactly, Brother! That is precisely what I said."

PART TWO

Cambria

SEVEN

"Bedwyr, Merlyn. "

Donuil's words brought me back from my thoughts and I turned my head to look where he was pointing. I saw young Bedwyr immediately as he brought his horse at full gallop down the smoothly sloping hillside across from where we sat, guiding it easily between the rock outcrops that littered the short grassed ground, picking the shortest, easiest route to the knoll from which we watched his progress.

"He rides like a centaur, doesn't he?"

"Aye, he does, " I answered. "But what we need are warriors who can fly like eagles. "

I twisted around in my saddle to look behind me, down to where my forces were spread out for more than a mile along the broad belt of land by the water's edge. Beyond them, the late morning sunlight reflected dazzlingly from the waves that still churned the surface of the sea, restive, despite the now cloudless skies, from the fury of the violent summer storm that had swept over this area the previous night. The coastal plain was wide here, along the westernmost edge of south Cambria, and I had no fears of being entrapped, despite the apparent unpreparedness of

my army, spread out as it was, its soldiers sprawling at leisure on the ground. Now I heard Rufio's rough voice, growling in response to my comment.

"I doubt that, Merlyn. We're in Cambria, remember? Even a soaring eagle can be felled up here by a well flighted Pendragon arrow."

Smiling, I turned to face him. Beside him, standing with one hand on the neck of Rufio's horse, his friend Huw Strongarm, the leader of our Pendragon contingent, stood looking at me and shaking his head tolerantly at Rufe's bluntness. His great longbow was slung over his shoulder and the flights of a full quiver of arrows rose behind his head. I winked at him and answered Rufio's remark.

'True, Rufe, but all the Pendragon longbows are with us, so your point is weakened."

"Hmm'phmm!" The sound was loaded with disgust. "."Most of them are, Commander, most of them. But there are too many turncoat whoresons out there with Ironhair for my taste."

He was referring, I knew, to Owain of the Caves. I nodded, then spoke to Benedict, whose mount was so close to me on my left side that my knee touched his. "Well, we'll know now what Philip has found inland. Judging by the speed young Bedwyr's making, it must be significant."

Benedict grinned. "Aye. Unless, of course, he's trying to kill his horse simply because he sees us watching him."

Behind me, I heard Derek bark a gruff laugh at Benedict's quip. The king of Ravenglass sat astride a horse that was as big as my Germanicus. Derek had changed greatly since reaching Camulod. His resolve to fight no more had given way beneath an increasing belief that Ironhair and his demented ally Carthac should be put down once and for all. A king himself, Derek of Ravenglass had a sense of natural justice that offered no quarter to usurpers. He now wore a uniform that would have marked him as a Roman tribune in earlier times, complete with scarlet cloak, plumed helmet and richly figured, polished leather cuirasses front and back.

I looked from Derek to Benedict and shook my head in mock regret. "Cynics! I am surrounded by cynics and pessimists. No wonder we are faring less than well here in Cambria."

I kneed my horse gently forward, moving beyond the others of my command group to where I could see Bedwyr clearly and he could see me awaiting him. I remained motionless as he put his mount to the slope in front of me, and in a short time he had reached the summit, blowing almost as hard as his horse. He had grown taller and filled out impressively in the months we had spent together in Cambria, and I found myself wondering if Arthur had made such evident progress, wherever he was in the northeast.

Bedwyr brought his horse to a halt and jumped down. He approached me and then drew himself to attention with a stiff salute, bringing his right fist to smack against his left breast and gazing up wide eyed to where I sat looking down at him.

"Legate Commander Merlyn!"

I nodded to him, repressing an urge to smile at his frowning earnestness. "Stand easy, Trooper, and make your report."

He sucked in a deep breath and stood even straighter, his elbows slightly bent and braced to hold his body motionless, his clenched fists resting slightly forward of his hipbones. Then, in a clipped and formal voice very different from his normal tone, he rattled off his message.

"Legate Commander, the Legate Philip wishes to report that he has been unable to make significant contact with the enemy forces opposing him. He has penetrated the territories assigned to his attention on this sweep during the past six days, as planned and according to his instructions, and has encountered no resistance. He wishes to report that the territories and all the hills between his present position, fifteen miles directly north from here, and your present position, including all the coastal region, are free of enemy infestation. His foot cohorts have swept the crests and upper slopes without incident, and his cavalry forces, split between the command of squadron tribunes Falvo and Tessius, have completed their patrols of the lower slopes and valleys on both sides of the range of hills being invested. They joined ranks two days ago, having encountered nothing to impede their progress towards the meeting point.

"The Legate's objectives have been achieved, and he now holds the ground as commanded. He awaits additional instructions, but respectfully informs you that his northernmost observers yesterday reported a passing fleet, holding far out to sea but heading swiftly southward, with the potential of changing course towards your present position. The storm last night, the Legate suggests, might have scattered or destroyed them, but he dispatched me at the utmost speed at first light to bring the tidings. The fleet consists of one large bireme, accompanied by an unconfirmed number of galleys, too far offshore to be counted accurately but estimated to be no less than fifteen craft. Legate Commander!"

The final salutation was accompanied by another crashing salute, indicating that the report was complete. I expelled air sibilantly between compressed lips and then nodded to him. "Thank you, Trooper. An excellent, succinct report. No questions. Report now to Tertius Lucca, if you will, and have him assign you to a place where you can eat and sleep, once you have cared for your mount.

When you are rested, you may come back to me for further instructions. "

Bedwyr saluted me again, then turned and left. I watched him mount and ride away, then turned to my companions.

"Same story, but this time there's a fleet out there. They'll probably sail by, but we had better be prepared, just in case Ironhair has decided to annoy us. " I looked up at the sky, still clear and cloudless. "Gather the troop commanders, if you please. We'll meet by the command tent in half an hour. Thank you. "