The Battle for Skandia (25 page)

The smaller targets attached to each large board represented the Kaijin. Freed from the need to check on both his own men and the enemy, Will had coped easily with them.

“True,” Will said in response to Horace's comment. “But they weren't shooting back.”

Secretly, he was pleased with his performance. He had shot well, in spite of the distractions involved in estimating range and trajectory for the larger group.

He grinned at Horace and Evanlyn. It was good to feel some of the old camaraderie back.

“Nice work, everyone,” he said, then, raising his voice: “Let's take a break for half an hour.”

There was a murmur of satisfaction from the archers and they moved to the side of the practice area, where barrels of drinking water were available. Behind Will, a familiar voice spoke.

“Take a break for the rest of the day. You've done enough for the moment.”

The three young Araluens turned at the sound of Halt's voice. Instantly, Will felt reinvigorated, bursting with curiosity about events at Sand Creek Bay.

“Halt!” he cried eagerly. “What happened? Were the Temujai there? Did you manage to fool them?”

But Halt held up a hand to stop the flow of questions he knew he was about to face. He was troubled by what he had just seen as he approached.

“Why have you got Evanlyn involved in this, Will?” he asked. He saw the hesitation in the young man's eyes, then saw his jaw set in a determined line.

“Because I need her, Halt. I need someone to keep track of the men, to let me know when they're ready. Without that, the system won't work.”

“Couldn't someone else do that?”

“I can't think of anyone else I can trust. I want someone who won't panic. Someone who'll keep her head.”

Halt scratched his beard thoughtfully. “How do you know Evanlyn won't panic?”

The answer came immediately.

“Because she didn't in Celtica—at the bridge.”

Halt looked at the three young faces before him. All set. All determined. He knew Will was right. He would need someone he could trust.

“All right then,” he said, then added, as the three beamed at him, “But don't look so happy about it. I'm the one who'll have to explain to her father if she's shot.”

“Now what about the Temujai?” Will asked. “Did you find them at Sand Creek Bay?”

At the mention of Slagor's plot, the smile on Evanlyn's face faded, replaced by a look of anxiety.

“They were there,” Halt said quickly, dispelling her worst fears. “And they made it clear that they were expecting to see Slagor.” He nodded at the girl as she let go a pent-up breath in relief. “It puts a different complexion on things as far as you're concerned, Princess,” he said.

“Ragnak still has his vow,” she said dully.

Halt nodded. “True. But at least he's agreed not to act on it until after we've driven off the Temujai.” Evanlyn made an uncertain little gesture with her hands.

“It's just postponing things,” she said.

“Problems postponed have a habit of solving themselves, more often than not,” Halt told her, putting an arm around her slim shoulders. Evanlyn smiled at him. But it wasn't much of a smile.

“If you say so,” she replied. “But Halt, don't address me as ‘Princess' if you would. No point in reminding Ragnak about me at every opportunity.”

The Ranger nodded. “I stand corrected,” he said. Then he added, in a lower tone that only Evanlyn heard, “By the way, there's no need to mention it to him, but don't be too surprised if Erak's wolfship is standing by to get you out of here the minute we've seen these damned Temujai off.”

She looked up at him then, hope in her eyes. He met her gaze and nodded meaningfully. She looked from him to the burly Skandian Jarl, who was now approaching over the field, then she leaned forward to kiss Halt lightly on the cheek.

“Thanks, Halt,” she said softly. “At least now I know there is an alternative.”

The Ranger shrugged and grinned at her. “That's what I'm here for,” he said, pleased to see the light of hope back in her eyes. She smiled at him again and slipped away, heading back to her quarters. All at once, overwhelmed by her sense of relief that Halt had contrived a possible way out of her predicament, she felt the need to be alone for a while.

Some of the Skandians who had been working the targets were calling to Erak now as he came closer, wanting to know how events had turned out at Sand Creek Bay. As the jarl confirmed Slagor's treachery, there were angry mutterings and dark looks cast toward the lodge, where Slagor was being held under guard.

“What about the Temujai, Erak?” Will asked. “How did you convince them to go ashore on Fallkork Island?”

Erak's laughter rang around the practice field. “We would have had to fight to stop them!” he told the assembled audience. “They were scrambling over each other to get back on solid land.”

The Skandians in the crowd standing around him echoed his laughter as he continued: “I managed to find a spot where we had the wind from astern, a steep head sea on our starboard quarter and the tide race through the narrows at the same time. A few hours of that and our fierce horse soldiers were like little lambs—sick little lambs.”

“They weren't the only ones,” Halt replied with some feeling. “I've been through some rough seas in my time, but I've never felt anything like the plunging and leaping you had us doing.”

Once again Erak bellowed with laughter. “Your master here went nearly the same shade of green as his cloak,” he told Will. Halt raised one eyebrow.

“At least I finally found a use for that damned helmet,” he said, and the smile disappeared from Erak's face.

“Yes. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell Gordoff about that,” he said. “He made me promise I'd look after that helmet. It's his favorite—a real family heirloom.”

“Well, it certainly has a lived-in feel to it now,” Halt told him, and Will noticed there was a hint of malicious pleasure in his eye. The Ranger nodded at the group of archers who were standing by.

“You seem to have this group working pretty well,” he said.

Will felt absurdly pleased at his mentor's praise.

“Oh,” he said, trying to sound casual. “We're not doing too badly.”

“Better than that from what I saw,” Halt told him. Then he repeated his earlier suggestion. “I meant what I said, Will. Give them the rest of the day off. Yourself too. You've earned a break. And unless I miss my guess, we're going to need all the rest we can get in the next few days.”

IT WAS A MUTED SOUND—SURF ON A BEACH A LONG WAY AWAY, or maybe the rolling of distant thunder, Will thought. Except no thunder had ever sounded like this. This sound never seemed to start and never seemed to end. It just continued, over and over, repeating itself constantly.

And, gradually, growing louder. It was the sound of thousands of horses cantering slowly toward them.

Will flexed the string on his bow a couple of times, testing the feel and the tension. His eyes were fixed on the point where they all knew the Temujai army would appear—a kilometer away, where the narrow coastal strip between the hills and the sea jutted out in a promontory, temporarily blocking their view of the approaching army. His mouth was dry, he realized, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow.

He reached down for the water skin that was hanging by his quiver and missed the first sight of the Temujai horsemen as they swept around the bend.

The men around him let out an involuntary cry. The horsemen rode stirrup to stirrup, in one long extended line, each horse cantering easily, matching the pace of the horse beside it.

“There must be thousands of them!” one of the archers said, and Will could hear the fear in his voice. It was echoed in another dozen places along the line. From the ranks of Skandian warriors beyond them, there was not a sound.

Now, above the dull rumble of the hooves, they could hear the jingle of harness as well, a lighter counterpoint to the rumbling hoofbeats. The horsemen came on, moving closer to the waiting ranks of silent Skandians. Then, at the single blaring note of a bugle, they reined in and came to a halt.

The silence, after the rumbling beat of their approach, was almost palpable.

Then a massive roar rose from the throats of the Skandian warriors who stood by their defenses. A roar of defiance and challenge, accompanied by the ear-shattering clash of axes and broadswords on shields. Gradually, the sound died away. The Temujai sat their horses silently, staring at their enemies.

“Keep still!” Will called to his archers. Now that he saw the Temujai front rank, his force seemed ridiculously small. There must have been six or seven hundred warriors riding side by side in that first rank. And behind them were another five or six times that number. At the center of the army, where the commander sat his horse, a sequence of colored signal flags waved. Others answered from positions in the line of horsemen. There was another horn blast—a different note this time—and the front rank began to walk their horses forward. The jingling of harness was apparent once more—then a massive metallic slithering sound filled the air and the weak sun gleamed on hundreds of saber blades as they were drawn.

“They're going to fight close in,” Horace said softly beside him.

Will nodded. “Remember what Halt told us? Their first move will be a feint—an attack and then a false withdrawal to draw the Skandians out from behind their breastworks. They won't commit to their real attack until they have the Skandians strung out in pursuit.”

The eighteen hundred Skandians were drawn up in three ranks on a narrow strip of flatland between the sea and the heavily timbered hills. They waited behind carefully constructed earthen breastworks. The sloping ramparts facing the Temujai were thick with sharpened stakes of various lengths, designed to impale the enemy's horses.

Halt had located their main defensive position at the spot where the strip was narrowest, with their flanks protected by the steep, wooded mountains on the left and the sea on the right. Hallasholm itself was barely two hundred meters behind their line. Will's force of archers were on an earthwork berm on the right, some meters behind the main defensive line. At the moment, earth-covered wicker ramparts kept the archers hidden as they crouched behind them.

Halt, Erak and Ragnak were in the command position, more or less in the center of the Skandian line, on a small knoll.

Now, more signal flags were seen and the advancing cavalry broke into a trot, beginning to wheel slightly toward the Skandian left flank.

There was a stir among the archers crouched behind the breastworks. Several of them reached for the arrow bins in front of them, instinctively feeling the need to arm themselves.

“Stay down!” Will called, wishing, as ever, that his voice wouldn't crack. Halt didn't want him revealing the presence of the archers until the Skandians had made several of their usual probing attacks.

“Wait till they're committed to a full attack, then we'll surprise them,” he had told his apprentice.

The line of archers turned now to look at their young commander. Will forced himself to smile at them, then, feigning a casualness he certainly didn't feel, leaned his bow against the breastworks in front of him, signifying that there would be no action required of the archers for some time yet.

Some of the other men copied the action.

“Nice work,” Horace said quietly beside him. “How can you stay so calm?”

“It helps if you're terrified,” Will replied, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. He was surprised at the warrior apprentice's question. Horace himself seemed to be the epitome of calm, totally unworried and seemingly unconcerned. His next statement dispelled that idea.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I nearly dropped my sword when they rode around the bend there.”

The Temujai charge was gathering pace now, breaking into a fast canter, then a gallop. As they neared the Skandian line, a major part of the force swung away, seemingly deterred by the fortifications and the sharpened stakes. They wheeled their horses to run parallel to the Skandian line for a few seconds, then began to curve back toward their own army. The Skandians yelled abuse and scorn at them. A shower of spears, rocks and other missiles erupted from the Skandian line. Most of them fell short of the galloping horsemen.

A smaller group, maybe less than a hundred, continued to close on the left wing of the Skandian line. Leaning forward in their stirrups, shouting their war cries, they forced their shaggy mounts up the earth breastworks, ignoring the screams of those horses who were struck by the stakes. About two-thirds of their numbers made it to the Skandian line and they leaned down from their saddles, striking left and right with their long, curved sabers.

The Skandian defenders joined the battle eagerly. Huge axes rose and fell and more horses came down, with tortured screams. Will tried to shut his ears to the sound of horses in agony. The small, shaggy Temujai mounts were nearly identical to Tug and Abelard and it was all too easy to imagine his own horse bleeding and terrified, just as the Temujai horses were. Obviously, the Temujai thought of their horses as a means to an end, and had little affection for them.

The seething battle occupied one corner of the Skandian line. For some minutes, there seemed to be no clear picture of what was happening. Then, gradually, with cries of panic, the Temujai began to give ground, backing down the sloped earthworks, wheeling their horses and moving away, and letting the Skandians come after them with increasing eagerness.