Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [121]
“When did they land?” asked Tristan, fighting panic.
“Yesterday! They landed beyond the town – at least a hundred longships! I set out to find you as they approached the harbor, but saw them land before I rode far inland.”
In a clatter of hooves, Daryth and Pawldo galloped up to them. The halfling’s face grew pale as he heard the news.
“What of Lowhill?” he asked.
“It has been evacuated, the halflings sheltering in the castle or the town,” explained Owen.
“We must go there!” urged Robyn, as Tristan sat, frozen, upon his horse. A graphic picture formed in his mind of the grim rendezvous of two armies of northmen at Corwell.
“Come on!” cried the woman, digging at his ribs.
“Yes, of course,” the prince replied. His mind spun, and he had trouble grasping a single thought.
“Get word to the sisters,” Tristan said to the Calishite. “Tell Brigit that Robyn and I ride to Corwell. She should follow with her company, if the rear of the column continues to remain secure.”
Turning to Pawldo, he said, “Find Finellen, and tell her to get the dwarves to Corwell as fast as she can. Gavin and the Ffolk will have to defend the column from the rear, if need be.”
The two friends nodded in understanding, and turned to gallop eastward. Robyn’s grip tightened about the prince’s waist as he urged Avalon to speed in the opposite direction. The white stallion leaped a low hedge and took to the fields.
Avalon seemed not to notice the additional rider, carrying them both with easy grace, toward the home that had suddenly become very precious. The prince did not know what he could hope to do when he arrived – he only knew that he had to get there as quickly as possible.
*****
“Idiot! Bumbling oaf!” Grunnarch’s temper raged, now that he had found a victim for his wrath.
“You call me names, when it was your army that was stopped by a band a peasant rabble?” Raag Hammerstaad’s voice returned the Red King’s rage with equal measure. The two kings rose to their feet, shaking their fists at each other across the campfire.
“If you had maintained pressure on that road -”
“If you had attacked with an army, instead of this band of vermin, you could have taken that road! Look at these men – I challenge you!” Raag gestured dramatically at the camp.
In an instant the rage left Grunnarch, depression again pushing other emotions into the background.
“Aye,” he grunted, sitting again. Puzzled and frowning, Raag sat also.
“The spirit has been drained from this army, I tell you, like the juice might be sucked from a lemon.”
Grunnarch paused, and then pointed roughly toward Myrloch Vale. “That place up there is a place I’d wish on no man! I’ll not enter it again, were it worth my life to do so!”
“I, however, shall return to the Vale,” said Trahern. Until now the sullen druid had been ignored by the kings.
“I thought you were accompanying us to Corwell!” objected Grunnarch, but the druid waved away his arguments.
“I have things to do here.” The druid rose and quickly disappeared into the darkness.
“Well, you’re back in the realms of men, now,” grunted Raag, looking curiously at his old friend. The two kings had embarked upon many a raid together, and never had Raag heard Grunnarch sound so worn and out of control.
“Aye,” agreed Grunnarch, forcing himself to lift his head. “This malady must certainly pass from us, now that we have passed the borders of that nightmarish place!” He tried to convince himself of the fact.
In another part of the camp, red, glowing eyes looked over the sleeping army.
Hungry eyes.
*****
In a half day’s travel, Avalon carried his two riders over land that would take the refugees half a week to cross. Shortly before sunset they crossed the last rise east of the town, and began the long descent to the sea. Caer Corwell, resting proudly atop its rocky hill, stood out clearly against the sinking sun. The pennant of the Lone Wolf fluttered bravely from the high tower.
They saw with relief that the town lay pristine and intact beside