Dragongate I

“Lord King,” Sigird began, curtsying awkwardly as she spoke, “I have been in the castle but a few days, yet it has seemed to me that no place has been better conceived for defence. The preparations of which you have spoken show also that the needs of the defence have been considered” she hesitated and blushed, “most wisely.”

“Go on,” said the King, with interest.

“Well, my Lord,” she continued “it seems to me that, in the ordering of this great defence, much thought was given to every need and chance. From that I deem that thought must have been given also to Stowham and the need to clear it in the face of an assault. I wonder then, what provision was made for its people and,” she again hesitated, but took courage and resumed, “and why the plan miscarried.”

‘Clever squirrel!’ thought Sacrissa, admiringly, ‘A thinker and a killer! Well, well.’ She was impressed and felt a twinge of pride in her new acquaintance. Elyssa was also impressed and wondered if she had not, without having meant to, underrated Sigird. The huntress looked upon Sigird intently, not unkindly or disapprovingly, but appraisingly. Sigird sensed the gaze and blushed more deeply than ever. Then the huntress smiled.

“Lord King,” said the huntress, “a worthy question, and timely. Perhaps the answer to it will guide our counsel.”

“Well spoken, both of you,” replied the King, and he shot Sigird a look of approbation that seemed to say, ‘you’ve impressed a King, my girl, keep it up.’

“The Lady Sigird is right. My lords,” he turned to his Council, “you will forgive me if I now treat upon matters well known to you, but I have been asked to account for my failings and must now do so!”

Sigird looked alarmed at this but saw that the King’s face was smiling upon her with kindness, though in his eyes she yet saw much sadness.

The Earl Strang cleared his throat, “Durwyn King, I can answer the Lady’s question with another. How an army crossed the Great Waste that sunders the Marchlands from the Kingdoms I could perhaps guess. Yet how it then traversed your lands and tributaries without rumour, to arrive here, well, what answer is there to that? There were towns and farmsteads and garrisons they needs must have passed through, yet none there thought to warn their lords and king? At any rate, an Enemy must surely drive before it a tide of dispossessed out of conquered lands. Yet none fled before our Enemy, to seek sanctuary in the Vale and give us warning. All this is dark to me; this is the question I cannot answer.”

The Earl looked around at his audience, perhaps to satisfy himself that all there understood the import of what he said, and, perhaps, the implication. He then continued:

“We are not hidden here, merely obscure; gold paid to some ranger or to a merchant who trades with the Vale, or to any that know the passages across the Waste, would bring them here; we are not proof against the ardent seeker. It is possible that they followed the rumour of our friends out of Trenisslia”, at this he bowed gravely at Sacrissa, “yet I think they must have known of us long before the Lord Elding set forth; such an army as assails us was long in the planning.”

“We have a March Warden,” Strang looked keenly at Nerian, “whose task it is to maintain our borders, be they with Men to the south or Elves to the north. The Waste is patrolled. We have fiefs to the south of us who have sworn fealty to the House of Daegan and we have lands beyond the entrance of the Vale that your Lords hold from you, my lands among them. Towers there are to spy for danger from afar and bring the news swiftly home, the last two upon the very flanks of the Circling Hills where they make their opening to the Vale. Yet no warning came; all such precautions failed. No beacon was lit, nor errand rider sent to give reveal this host. Not a single soul reached the Vale with tidings of our enemy. That is your answer, my Lady; the Vale was entered and Stowham was invested before the town could be cleared.”

Lord Nerian, the Warden, scowled at this speech, Sigird noticed. She looked at Sacrissa, whose face was a mask of impenetrability, a sign, thought Sigird, perhaps, that Sacrissa had noticed the Warden’s reaction too.

“And in due time, my Lord,” said the King, “we will endeavour to answer it, and many other such questions. I am inclined to think that the answer to who our enemy is might prove the vital clue. First, Lady Sigird’s question needs a little more in answer. As Lord Strang has said, the Elvenmarch was ever a land of watch and ward, and rumour of the host should have come to us from the Marchland Fiefs to our south. It did not. Lady Sigird herself travelled there but three days past without encountering our enemy. Those set to watch the border of the Great Waste sent no warning. However it was done, this host appeared at our gates unheralded as evening approached. That denied us time to clear Stowham, which we had never expected would be so. The outer wall, where the fight now rages, is little more than a fence to mark the garth of Gryphonhold from the farmlands beyond. It is not fit to delay an enemy for long and in the absence of any warning from further afield it barely gives us the time we now need. I said I would not admit the people of Stowham to the Gryphonhold, so another refuge was found for them, and a safe passage to it. Safe, by day at least. My Lord Warden and I conceived of it, and I will let him tell of it.”

“Lady Sigird,” the Warden commenced “you will, I deem, have heard of the Debatable Land?”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, “we know it to be a land between the realms of Men and Elves, the lordship of which is uncertain and disputed, though from Tuttadale we know not where it lies.”

“It lies here,” the Warden replied “hard by the Vale, beyond the western cliffs of the Circling Hills. Know you now its true name and purpose. We know it as the Dimlicdale. It is often called the debatable land, but that is a corruption merely. It is properly called the batable land, for it is a land of rich pasture fed by a clear, cold, river. It stretches some three leagues west from the Vale and as it falls it widens, and is some two leagues at its broadest. It has marshes and bogs in its low points, and close little woods abound. It has many folds and little hills and dells and secret places. Its bounds rise to inhospitable moors and the few safe descents to it can only be found by those few who know them. It is not, however, a disputed land and its ownership is known. It is owned by no one.”

“But everywhere is in some domain,” blurted out Sacrissa, to her embarrassment.

“Indeed,” said the Warden, unaffected by the interruption, “so it is in the Kingdoms, yet, even so, by ancient law of custom no one may claim dominion over the batable land. Those who live on its borders may drive their cattle to pasture there but may make no dwellings in the valley and they and their kine must not be found there after sunset. Thus, it has been since times that lie beyond the memory of Men, from before even the Kingdoms first were established.”

“Has no one in all that lost count of years never attempted to dwell there and claim its rich pastures for their own?” ventured Sacrissa.

“None that have lived,” interjected the King, and his look was grim, as if some unkind and painful memory had been stirred, “for there are things there that I would hesitate to name in light of day but will not dare invoke now the darkness falls about us. Whenever any have ventured to spend a night in that dale, only the scraps of ripped corpses and shattered bones remain when daylight returns to that land.”

“Well,” said the Warden, “whatever might be there, it is feared by those who live about its borders and, so, they do not go there after dark and attempts to settle the place have long since been abandoned.”

“Thus,” spoke the Earl Aldred for the first time, “are the realms of Men kept separate from the realm of the Elves”, he bowed respectfully to Elyssa, “in a place where there are no mountains or great rivers to divide them. For Men first feared, then later loved the Elves who as teachers first brought Men to holiness, yet the two races have ever kept to their own ways and lands and have thereby known peace. I now fear for that peace,” and the Earl bowed his head as if in sorrow at the folly of Men.

The King nodded gravely and indicated that the Warden should continue.

“At the farther end of the Dimlicdale,” resumed the Warden, with a trace of irritation at the Earl’s interruption, “its river flows on through a pass in the hills, carrying, perhaps, some of its mystery, and, on occasion, its anger, west, into other lands. Here, on the southeast slope of the northern spur of the hills overlooking the river, on the very edge of the batable land, is a stone keep, stout and strong. It was founded at a holy spot where once, it is said, Ostreon the Anchorite abided in his hermitage. His cave can still be seen there. Now the lands beyond are home to a folk as stout as their keep, the Stedinglas, they call themselves. They have a village there, enclosed in a high stone barmkin. They till the fields by the river to the west and drive their cattle east into the Dimlicdale to graze at will by day. They will house the folk of Stowham until such time as they may safely return.”

“I thank you, Lord Warden,” said the King, “your knowledge of the lands in your charge is commendable.”

“They owe me fealty, the Stedinglas,” the King explained, “though I make no claim on them. For their land, Lady Elyssa, your wise and ageless mother and I agreed they should have. With the Elf Queen’s leave, I bestowed it upon them.” The King bowed to Elyssa, who had winced at the mention of her mother, but was disguising her discomfort tolerably well.

So, thought Sacrissa, this is the daughter of Elvenholme, the great and mysterious kingdom of high elfdom. What, then, in the Hells is she doing ranging here?

“Against the day that the Vale was in danger,” continued the King, “these allies have set aside a great bay in their woods, there to furnish a camp for the folk of Stowham should need come upon them, and, indeed, for any of mine who must flee thence. It will be seen, my Lady Elyssa, Ladies Sigird and Sacrissa, that if the people of Stowham are to be brought to safety, their start must be made in the morning of the day, as they must not be caught in the Dimlicdale when night falls.”

“Now, you will have seen in the Vale that there is a bridge, towered and embattled, that crosses the river just as it flows from the lake. It takes a road from Stowham over the river to the lesser part of the Vale. Here the fields rise from the far bank to a wooded bluff, a forest where we hunt. High on its slopes is a holy sanctuary and place of healing. Beyond that is a defile that leads up and over the western spur of the Circling Hills and passes, on its further slope, by the foot of a tower set to watch the Dimlicdale. From that tower, no news, good or ill, has yet come. We do not think that the Enemy has yet occupied the Vale beyond the river. Without use of the bridge, no great force can come there, but we do not know if spies or scouts have been sent there by boat. Much will depend upon whether the outer wall and the bridge can be held long enough for the town folk to make it out of the Vale, either undetected, though we can hardly hope for that now, or at least until they are far enough on that no effective pursuit of them could be made; they could be slaughtered by our enemy in the pastures of the batable land as easily as in the fields and meadows of the Vale. The bridge must be held at least until they are clean away.”

“I suppose, Lord King,” mused Sigird, “that a garrison sent across the river, one sufficient to defend the place, and thus block any pursuit, would be at too great a risk of the bridge falling.”

Sacrissa was looking impressed, and not bothering to conceal it, and she thought, ‘Pretty Squirrel, you are the wisest in warcraft of all in this room, notwithstanding the lords of battle that crowd it!’

The green eyes of the fair huntress sparkled to hear Sigird, and the lady wore a look of satisfaction.

“So I deem,” said the King, “Once the outer wall falls and the town is assailed, the bridge will be vulnerable, the road to it defenceless. Such a force would then be beyond our aid and we beyond its. Thus, only those not expected to return to the citadel should cross the river.”