The Riftwar Saga Series Books 2 and 3: Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

Caldric smiled for the first time since entering the room. ‘Brucal? That old war dog? There is no more honest man in the Kingdom. And he is not in the line of succession. He would be beyond even Guy’s attempts to discredit. Should he receive the command of the armies …’

Arutha finished the thought. ‘He would call Father to be his chief adviser. He knows Father is the finest commander in the West.’

Caldric sat up straight in his chair, excitement on his face. ‘You would even have command of the armies of Yabon.’

‘Yes,’ said Arutha, ‘and LaMut, Zun, Ylith, and the rest.’

Caldric stood. ‘I think it will work. Say nothing to the King tomorrow. I will find the proper time to make the “suggestion.” Pray that His Majesty approves.’

Caldric took his leave, and Pug could see that for the first time there was hope for a good ending to this journey. Even Arutha, who had fumed like black thunder all week, looked nearly happy.

Pug was awakened by a pounding on his door. He sleepily called out for whoever was out there to enter, and the door opened. A royal steward peeked in. ‘Sir, the King commands all in the Duke’s party to join him in the throne room. At once.’ He held a lantern for Pug’s convenience.

Pug said he would come straightaway and hurriedly got dressed. Outside it was still dark, and he felt anxious about what had caused this surprise summons. The hopeful feeling of the night before, after Caldric had left, was replaced by a gnawing worry that the unpredictable King had somehow learned of the plan to circumvent the arrival of the Duke of Bas-Tyra.

He was still buckling his belt about his tunic when he left his room. He hurried down the hall, with the steward beside him holding a lantern against the dark, as the torches and candles usually lit in the evening had all been extinguished.

When they reached the throne room, the Duke, Arutha, and Kulgan were arriving, all looking apprehensively toward Rodric, who paced by his throne, still in his night-robes. Duke Caldric stood to one side, a grave expression on his face. The room was dark, save for the lanterns carried by the stewards.

As soon as they were gathered before the throne, Rodric flew into a rage. ‘Cousin! Do you know what I have here?’ he screamed, holding out a sheaf of parchment.

Borric said he didn’t. Rodric’s voice lowered only a little. ‘It is a message from Yabon! That old fool Brucal has let those Tsurani aliens attack and destroy one of his garrisons. Look at these!’ he nearly shrieked, throwing the parchments toward Borric. Kulgan picked them up and handed them to the Duke. ‘Never mind,’ said the King, his voice returning to near-normalcy. ‘I’ll tell you what they say.

‘These invaders have attacked into the Free Cities, near Walinor. They have attacked into the elven forests. They have attacked Stone Mountain. They have attacked Crydee.’

Without thinking, Borric said, ‘What news from Crydee?’

The King stopped his packing. He looked at Borric, and for a moment Pug saw madness in his eyes. He closed them briefly, then opened them, and Pug could see the King was himself again. He shook his head slightly and raised his hand to his temple. ‘I have only secondhand news from Brucal. When those messages left six weeks ago, there had only been one attack at Crydee. Your son Lyam reports the victory was total, driving the aliens deep into the forest.’

Caldric stepped forward. ‘All reports say the same thing. Heavily armed companies of foot soldiers attacked during the night, before the snows had melted, taking the garrisons by surprise. Little is known save that a garrison of LaMutians near Stone Mountain was overrun. All other attacks seem to have been driven back.’ He looked at Borric meaningfully. ‘There is no word of the Tsurani’s using cavalry.’

Borric said, ‘Then perhaps Tully was right, and they have no horses.’

The King seemed to be dizzy, for he took a staggering step backward and sat on his throne. Again he placed a hand to his temple, then said, ‘What is this talk of horses? My Kingdom is invaded. These creatures dare to attack my soldiers.’

Borric looked at the King. ‘What would Your Majesty have me do?’

The King’s voice rose. ‘Do? I was going to wait for my loyal Duke of Bas-Tyra to arrive before I made any decision. But now I must act.’

He paused, and his face took on a vulpine look, as his dark eyes gleamed in the lantern light. ‘I was considering giving the Armies of the West to Brucal, but the doddering old fool can’t even protect his own garrisons.’

Borric was about to protest on Brucal’s behalf, but Arutha, knowing his father, gripped his arm, and the Duke remained silent.

The King said, ‘Borric, you must leave Crydee to your son. He is capable enough, I should think. He’s given us our only victory so far.’ His eyes wandered and he giggled. He shook his head for a moment, and his voice lost its frantic edge. ‘Oh, gods, these pains. I think my head will burst.’ He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Borric, leave Crydee to Lyam and Arutha; I’m giving you the banner of the Armies of the West; go to Yabon. Brucal is sorely pressed, for most of the alien army strikes toward LaMut and Zun. When you are there, request what you need. These invaders must be driven from our lands.’

The King’s face was pale, and perspiration gleamed on his forehead. ‘This is a poor hour to start, but I have sent word to the harbor to ready a ship. You must leave at once. Go now.’

The Duke bowed and turned. Caldric said, ‘I will see His Majesty to his room. I will accompany you to the docks when you are ready.’

The old Chancellor helped the King from the throne, and the Duke’s party left the hall. They rushed back to their rooms to find stewards already packing their belongings. Pug stood around excitedly, for at last he was returning to his home.

They stood at dockside, bidding farewell to Caldric. Pug and Meecham waited, and the tall franklin said, ‘Well, lad. It will be some time before we see home again, now that war is joined.’

Pug looked up into the scarred face of the man who had found him in the storm, so long ago. ‘Why? Aren’t we going home?’

Meecham shook his head. ‘The Prince will ship from Krondor through the Straits of Darkness to join his brother, but the Duke will ship for Ylith, then to Brucal’s camp somewhere near LaMut. Where Lord Borric goes, Kulgan goes. And where my master goes, I go. And you?’

Pug felt a sinking in his stomach. What the franklin said was true. He belonged with Kulgan, not with the folk at Crydee, though he knew if he asked, he would be allowed to go home with the Prince. He resigned himself to another sign that his boyhood was ending. ‘Where Kulgan goes, I go.’

Meecham clapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Well, at least I can teach you to use that bloody sword you swing like a fishwife’s broom.’

Feeling little cheer at the prospect, Pug smiled weakly. They soon boarded the ship and were under way toward Salador, and the first leg of the long journey west.

• CHAPTER FOURTEEN •

Invasion

THE SPRING RAINS WERE HEAVY THAT YEAR.

The business of war was hampered by the ever-present mud. It would stay wet and cold for nearly another month before the brief, hot summer came.

Duke Brucal of Yabon and Lord Borric stood looking over a table laden with maps. The rain hammered on the roof of the tent, the central part of the commander’s pavilion. On either side of the tent two others were attached, providing sleeping quarters for the two nobles. The tent was filled with smoke, from lanterns and from Kulgan’s pipe. The magician had proven an able adviser to the dukes, and his magical aid helpful. He could detect trends in the weather, and his wizard’s sight could detect some of the Tsurani’s troop movements, though not often. And over the years his reading of every book he encountered, including narratives of warfare, had made him a fair student of tactics and strategy.

Brucal pointed to the newest map on the table. ‘They have taken this point here, and another here. They hold this point’ – he indicated another spot on the map – ‘in spite of our every effort to dislodge them. They also seem to be moving along a line from here, to here.’ His finger swept down a line along the eastern face of the Grey Towers. ‘There is a coordinated pattern here, but I’m damned if I can anticipate where it’s going next.’ The old Duke looked weary. The fighting had been going on sporadically for over two months now, and no distinct advantage could be seen on either side.

Borric studied the map. Red spots marked known Tsurani strongholds: hand-dug, earthen breastworks, with a minimum of two hundred men defending. There were also suspected reinforcement companies, their approximate location indicated with yellow spots. It was known that any position attacked was quick to get reinforcements, sometimes in a matter of minutes. Blue spots indicated the location of Kingdom pickets, though most of Brucal’s forces were billeted around the hill upon which the commander’s tent sat.

Until the heavy foot soldiers and engineers from Ylith and Tyr-Sog arrived to man and create permanent fortifications, the Kingdom was fighting a principally mobile war, for most of the troops assembled were cavalry. The Duke of Crydee agreed with the other man’s assessment. ‘It seems their tactics remain the same: bring in a small force, dig in, and hold. They prevent our troops from entering, but refuse to follow when we withdraw. There is a pattern. But for the life of me, I can’t see it either.’

A guard entered. ‘My lords, an elf stands without, seeking entrance.’

Brucal said, ‘Show him in.’

The guard held aside the tent flap, and an elf entered. His red-brown hair was plastered to his head, and his cloak dripped water on the floor of the tent. He made a slight bow to the dukes.

‘What news from Elvandar?’ Borric asked.

‘My Queen sends you greetings.’ He quickly turned to the map. He pointed at the pass between the Grey Towers on the south and Stone Mountain on the north, the same pass Borric’s forces now bottled up at its east end. ‘The outworlders move many soldiers through this pass. They have advanced to the edge of the elven forests, but seek not to enter. They have made it difficult to get through.’ He grinned. ‘I led several a merry chase for half a day. They run nearly as well as the dwarves. But they could not keep up in the forest.’ He returned his attention to the map. ‘There is word from Crydee that skirmishes have been fought by outriding patrols, but nothing close to the castle itself. There is no word of activity from the Grey Towers, Carse, or Tulan. They seem content to dig in along this pass. Your forces to the west will not be able to join you, for they could not break through now.’

‘How strong do the aliens appear to be?’ asked Brucal.

‘It is not known, but I saw several thousand along this route.’ His finger indicated a route along the northern edge of the pass, from the elven forests to the Kingdom camp. ‘The dwarves of Stone Mountain are left alone, so long as they do not venture south. The outworlders deny them the pass also.’

Borric asked the elf, ‘Has there been any report of the Tsurani’s having cavalry?’

‘None. Every report refers only to infantry.’

Kulgan said, ‘Father Tully’s speculation on their being horseless seems to be borne out.’