Dragongate I

Then, a squire craved entry from the room. Strang beckoned him, and he whispered something to the Lord.

“Sire,” explained Strang, “the messenger from the outer wall attends and begs admission.”

“Pray let him come, for it is time now to hear his report and to add his counsel to our own,” said the King, and the squire bowed and retired to usher in the newcomer.

A tall and broad figure stepped into the gloom of the guardroom. His features were handsome, strong, open and forthright. His fair hair hung in stray whisps before his sweat-stained face and he brushed these aside as he peered around the interior in search of the King. When he saw him, he bowed gravely and deeply, and said, “Lord King, I come at your summons and am at your service.”

“Eric!”, cried Sacrissa. Are not you and our father safe in the castle?”

“Sister,” acknowledged Eric, smothering his surprise and gritting his teeth.

“Lord Eric,” replied the King, “you are welcome and have my thanks for your service. Introductions may have to wait, for once, as time and the enemy press us to the resolution of our Council. Forgive the interruption to your duties, but I must learn how things fare at the wall and the prospects for the morrow from one whose judgment I may trust. Upon your counsel will rest my plans for the clearing of the town and the withdrawal of our forces to the inner wall.”

“Lord King, by your leave,” began Eric. The King nodded for him to continue, “the Enemy is legion and its attacks have been all but ceaseless. We have the men enough to repel all attempts to scale the wall. Thanks to you, Lord, we have enough to stand watch on watch throughout the night, giving all their share of rest and relief from danger.”

“This Enemy, though, it is unknown to us,” continued Eric, “we have but this sign to know them by,” and he pulled a torn cloth from his belt and unfolded it. The King stooped to look closely. His Councillors did likewise behind him, but then involuntarily took a step back. All perceived the bright yellow leopard, blazoned on its cloth of shadow, its head turned to them in challenge. Though a thing of mean rags and coarse stiches, it seemed to all who now gathered round it that it was a token of malevolence. Its blank eyes were alive and, it seemed, saw them. Bold eyes seemed to penetrate their thoughts, and even to sense their fears, darkly revelling in their terror. It seemed to Eric that the candles had grown dim and that a creeping cold he had not before noticed now chilled the bare stone guard room.

“Yet this is not a sign we any of us know,” Eric faltered. The others had shrunk from the bleak cloth eyes, but the King leaned in still, regarding the device with an expression both thoughtful and grim. It seemed to Eric that, if the King did not recognise the emblem, he at least, and alone amongst them, had guessed at what it meant. Finally, the King stood back and turned from the ragged cloth. Eric hastily bundled it away.

Eric paused while the Council composed itself, ‘What is my accursed sister doing here,’ he thought, ‘and dressed as a boy, or, rather, like some rogue or assassin, who prowls the night? She is altogether ridiculous and must make the House of Elding look so. Though, she seems well-suited to her company, such a group of outlandish females …’ He stopped, for there she was in the shadows of that room, smirking sardonically at him. That striking green-eyed, golden-haired beauty with whom he had tarried in those wearisome days when he could go no further than the tavern of Stowham. He had made a fool of himself there. He had thought …. well he had thought highly of her and, perhaps she of him. But that had been the dream of a playing holiday and could not be. For he was to be bound to another. He should not have forgotten himself. He should not have let things go so far. He had endured a … difficult conversation with her just yestereve and he saw that she was regarding him now with nothing but wry contempt showing in her cold emerald eyes and mocking smile.

“My Lord Eric,” prompted the King, “and on the morrow …?”

“Lord King?” fumbled Eric, still distracted and taken unaware by the question.

“You deem yourself secure for the duration of this night. And on the morrow …?” repeated the King.

“Lord King,” resumed Eric, somewhat discomforted, “The morrow will see the outer wall fall within an hour of full daylight.”

This elicited a sharp intake of breath from those in the room, followed by a non-committal grunt from Earl Strang and some surprised murmurs from the other Lords. The atmosphere suddenly bristled.

“Pray continue, Lord Eric,” said the King calmly, “and tell us why this shall be.”

“On the morrow, even their present mode of attack will start to tell. We must man the walls thickly to ward off the ladders thrown against it. In daylight, at each assault their bowmen must harvest a tithe of us as we work to topple the ladders. A day of such work will see them lose many men, but we know they care not for that. The defenders will be depleted and can only be reinforced by crossing the space between the walls, where the engines of the enemy will do great execution with stones and fire. Our men should cross that inferno but once, when retiring, when the Enemy’s presence on our side of the outer wall will impede and then prevent the casting of enemy missiles. If we stay to die on the wall, eventually we will be too few to defend it and manage an orderly retreat. It may even be that a day and night of such wasteful assaults would see the enemy step over the outer wall in spite of us.”

The lad knows something, at least of war, conceded Sacrissa to herself. He is still a great lumpen dolt, though, she concluded. She glanced across at Sigird, wondering what she might be thinking. The girl, Sacrissa saw, looked thoughtfully at the Dolt.

“Yet you do not deem they will wait a day to take the wall?” asked the King.

“Nay, Sire,” replied Eric, “if they have come to do aught but dance and caper for our amusement beneath the walls of Gryphonhold, they will have brought great engines to beat down our walls. It seems that these were not ready before darkness gathered this evening. They most assuredly will be ready by daybreak. They will be sited and ranged as soon as the light is full in the Vale. If well practised and well-knowing of their craft, as I fear they must be, they will have our measure within a short time and, as I have said, within an hour of full light, they will have beaten down our wall in divers places.”

“What then would you counsel, my Lord?” this from Earl Strang.

“I would wait until full night, which is nigh, when the attacks must cease, and then abandon the wall before daybreak.”

“What’s this?” cried Lord Warian.

“Impossible!” said Strang, “the King must maintain the outer wall well into the morning for reasons you do not yet know.”

Others snorted or mumbled. The Lord Warden gave brief life to a pained smile. The eyes of the huntress flashed in doubt and anger, and Sacrissa felt shame, and, momentarily, sadness, for her brother, who appeared now revealed as a poor, timid fool who would hand their Enemy premature advantage.

But then, Sigird interrupted.

“You mean to dig a ditch,” she said. She asserted it calmly as it were a known and obvious fact, with utter conviction, “a ditch, perhaps even two if there are men and time enough. Yes, I see that would work. In cover of darkness you mean to site a ditch, at perhaps a third of the distance that separates outer and inner walls. You plan to throw the earth up to form a dike, breast high, behind the ditch, on the town side. If you have pales for it, you might place spikes in the ditch. The enemy will not apprehend your design, the darkness will hide you. No cause would there be for the enemy to cast missiles at the spot in the night while you labour. Come daylight, the earthen breastwork will shelter your men from such missiles.”

“Lady,” stuttered Eric, astonished. He regarded for the first time this slight, unassuming young woman, outlandishly rigged out in the full harness of war, marvelling at her, “yes, you are right. That is my design almost entire. I would say two ditches are possible, a quarter and a half the span of ground from the outer wall. I come to ask my Lord King’s permission to abandon the wall and commence this work and ask that he would site the engines on his walls to strike the outer wall and the ground immediately within it.”

“Thus,” said the King, musing upon what he had just heard, “you avoid the casualties you would take on the wall and start the withdrawal with all your force intact and with much distance toward safety already gained, and with a means – your fieldworks - of slowing the forces that must pursue you. The cavalry I shall send will not need to range so far or for so long to shepherd your men home in safety, and we, too, shall suffer less from the blows of our enemy.”

“We?” asked the huntress, whose had been looking at Eric with a neutral gaze, but who had now turned to address the King.

“It will be my honour to lead Gryphonhold’s force on the morrow.” Sharp glances were exchanged between the King and the huntress.

The King turned to Elyssa, “my Lady you have, I recall, some experience of battle and command, what say you to my Lord Eric’s plan?”

“It will stay the enemy as long, or likely longer, than any other means, and will do so at less cost. I deem it good counsel,” said Elyssa.

“My Lords,” the King turned to his council, “what say you to this?”

“It will serve us well, I deem”, said Strang. The others nodded.

Then the King turned to the pale huntress, and said, though to some there it seemed strange, “And you my Lady, do you consent to this?”

And she turned to him, head raised, proud and perilous, her green eyes glittering, and said, “There are many ways we can die tomorrow. Lord Eric’s counsel may save us yet, but if not, he shows how we might sell our lives most dearly. I assent.”

“Then, my Lord,” said the King to Eric, “give my love to your father, tell him it is my wish that you do as you have counselled, and tell him that I will seek him out and fight at his side as his brother in arms on the morrow.”

Eric bowed and left. And so was the course of the coming battle decided.

With little squirrel Sigird leading the counselling of the King, the King deferring to the huntress, and her own Idiot Brother revealed as a military genius, Sacrissa decided that, for once, she really didn’t know what to think.

“Now that is settled,” said the King, “we must allot the task of taking forth the folk of Stowham to safety across the Dimlicdale.”

“I claim that duty, Dread Lord,” cried Nerian the Warden, “for I know the secret ways and can lead the folk all to safety across paths known to few. I know the land all about as few can know it, as it is in my care as March Warden, and it is my duty to the Vale to conduct folk safely through it.”

“Good Warden,” replied the King, “indeed, you know well all the paths and passes, our secret ways and defences, but the fate of this great castle is also in your care. Would you not rather stand with me on the morrow to defend it?”

“Well, Lord, I …,” began the Warden.

“I will lead them free and clear to safety,” asserted the imperious huntress.

“No you will not,” replied the King, “I forbid it.”

“My Lord,” replied the huntress, with a gentler voice, “were your daughter here, as you had wished, you could command her. I grieve, truly, at your sadness that she is not yet appeared before you. Only I am here in her stead, friendless wanderer in the wilderness as I am; an outcast with no mark of House or estate, and yet with no homage owed to lord or king am I. By the solemn pact you honour I am to be free to choose my path, and I have chosen it.”

“Very well,” said the King, “but there are some hundred and more strangers to your charge. Who will you choose to go with you?”

“The Lady Amora and Trystan Dreyma owe me service,” she replied, “and Conan Svar I would have, if my Lord can spare a librarian at such a time,” she smiled, “as to others”, her voice faltered, “I …”

Elyssa stepped forward, “Noble lady, if, by my sight or my skill, I can aid you, my bow is yours.”

“And my spear, Lady,” added Sigird, who looked now at Sacrissa.

‘I’m backed into a corner now,’ realised Sacrissa, ‘Oh, by the Powers, what have I got myself into? Nothing for it; courage and cast the die!’

Sacrissa smiled. “And my …. wits!” she said, finally.

“Well then,” said the King, “it seems settled. I had wished that Lady Elyssa had tarried and given me news of how matters lie with your people, but I see the thing is decided.”

“My Lord, Elfwyn,” replied Elyssa, “I have lived these past years in the west and can say nothing concerning the realm to your north, but should our rebellious kin, the Moon Elves, hear of unrest, they may cause trouble there. The Paramount Clans of High Elfdom little regard the affairs of Men and the present danger has grown unperceived. The slaying at Elvendon has awoken us, but counsels are divided. We fear there has grown unchecked a worsening antipathy among Men towards Elves. The western Combes where I dwell have grown wary of late and we hear that Elvendon is under arms. Sea rovers again ply the western seas and no ship came from Luthany before I left the west. Until succession in the First Kingdom of Men is settled, we do not know how the will of Men may be shaped, but there is fear and anger now between both races. The Elves look to their own defences. Do not look to them to aid you unless the Hidden Realm itself is in danger, then, at last, they may hear you. Yet always there are some wise enough to know that you, Elfwyn, are ever their bulwark against the dark. My grandmother sent me here to give what aid I can. To your daughter. It is said, she will save the Hidden Realm and all the lands around, and perhaps has an even greater destiny.”

“I thank you, Lady, for those tidings,” replied the King, “it is much as I thought. It is good to know that I have no enemy at my back. Your aid is great indeed, be it but a single elf-bow. As for my daughter, it is not yet her time, though I had hoped that time had come. Yet, for all that, I feel it draws near.”

“Huntress,” the King turned to her, “you have my blessing and my thanks. I will pick some few stout men at arms and field-crafty scouts to help you with your charges. You must try to win the cover of the trees across the river before daybreak, though with your numbers and the slow pace of the young and infirm, you will be hard pressed to do so. Yet you must do so both to avoid the enemy at your heels and the horrors that come by night. Start as soon as you may.”

“My Lord Warden,” the King turned to Nerian, “pray go now with our Lady. She will need the lists of all those registered as resident in Stowham, and such gear and supplies as she will have and provisions for the townsfolk upon their journey. Sir Kendrick,” he turned to the knight, “will you assist his Lordship in all this, and be his right-hand man in all things?”

The young knight nodded.

“Then you may oblige him by attending him in his preparations for tomorrow,” concluded the King.

“Sire,” they all bowed, save Sigird, who curtsied of course, and withdrew, the women to join their comrades on the battlements and tell them the news.

The King watched them go, “They are so very young, Aldred. Skilled of course and stout-hearted, yet so very young. Will they see the dangers on their road and fear them as they should?”

“Sire, the young possess strength, deep and as yet unseen, and they have hope. They do not have to endure without it. Hope for them is an ever-blossoming tree. That must be enough.”