A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [150]
“Rise, Cawaryn,” the priest called out, “king of all Eldidd in her hour of need.”
As the lad stood, the men cheered and howled. Wave after wave of shrieking, hysterical laughter echoed off the walls as the sun rose on the war.
The army rode out that very morning. Besides the easy coast road, there were two mountain passes into Eldidd from Deverry. The one to the north was high, doubtless choked with snow. The southern pass was just barely open to a determined army. Although scouts had been sent out long before, everyone was assuming that the Deverry forces would come along the coast from Cerrmor.
Two days’ forced march brought an Eldidd army of nearly a thousand men close to the mountain border. On that first march, there was hope. They had plenty of men, who would fight not merely at orders but because they believed in the fight. They’d been warned of Aeryc’s advance in time to take up a good position of their choosing for the first confrontation. They had, for a couple of weeks at least, plenty of food and fodder to keep the army strong. Scouts rode out and returned from the southern pass, bringing the news that, as yet, there was no sign of the Deverrians. Late on the second night, after a weary army had made camp, Yvmur summoned Danry to a small council of war round the fire in front of the king’s tents. While the older men talked, Cawaryn paced, his brooch bright at his shoulder.
“If we catch Aeryc on the sea road,” Yvmur said, “we’ve got him in a cursed bad spot. We can pin him against the cliffs where there’s no room to maneuver.”
“And shove him over the edge, may the gods allow,” Gatryc said, grinning. “Have those scouts come in?”
“Not the last lot.” The king finally spoke. “We have sent men across the border, you see, in hopes that they can tell us how far away the enemy lies.”
The men nodded gravely, trying to ignore the king’s frequent glances to his uncle for reassurance.
“My liege?” Danry said. “And what of the scouts from the north?”
“No word,” Yvmur put in. “We’ve sent men after them, but I’ll wager that Aeryc’s not risking that pass.”
Yvmur was right about that, but the rebel lords had overlooked what, in fact and to be fair, everyone in Eldidd but Ganedd of Cannobaen had overlooked: the king had ships in Cerrmor, a vast fleet of ships, enough to ferry him and an army of over fifteen hundred to Abernaudd. The rebels heard of the landing round noon on the morrow, when a hysterical rider on a foundering horse caught up with the rear guard as the rebel army marched east. Danry rode back with Yvmur and Leomyr to see what the shouting was about and found one of the men left behind on fort guard in Abernaudd.
“My lords, he’s invested the city. I got out just in time.”
“What?” Yvmur snapped. “Who?”
“The king. The Deverry king. Aeryc. With a fleet. They landed in the harbor at dawn yesterday. They’ve got the harbor, my lords, but the city’s holding firm. They haven’t even tried an assault. They’re just camping at the gates.”
Even as the men around him swore and wondered, Danry knew with an awful certainty why Aeryc was biding his time.
“Then we’ve got to ride back straightaway.” It was Mainoic, pushing his way through the knot of men around the messenger. “My city! He’ll burn it to the ground.”
“Naught of the sort,” Danry snarled. “That’s