Honored Enemy (45 page)

‘Tinuva.’

He stepped closer. The wind swirled up and for an instant he felt a touch of panic, imagining that it was all illusion, that his brother had disappeared. The snow parted like a curtain being drawn back and he was still there, not a dozen paces away. He took another step, then Tinuva slowly raised his right hand.

‘Close enough.’

Bovai nodded in agreement.

Tinuva sighed, a sigh that was filled with an infinite sadness and 290

for the briefest of moments Bovai felt a stab of pain. Here before him was his brother, whom he had once loved as no other. Though now of the despised eledhel he could sense all that he once was.

‘So how are you, brother?’ Tinuva asked and Bovai felt a flash of hot anger.

‘I am not your brother. My brother Morvai died the night you were created, eledhel. And you know all that I have been since the day you left, as I know all that you have been.’

Tinuva nodded. ‘I slew Kavala.’

Bovai shrugged. ‘He was too ambitious for his own good. If you had not killed him, once you were dead I would have cut his heart out.’

‘I didn’t need to go that far. Killing him was enough.’

‘As I shall now kill you,’ Bovai said softly.

‘That is what you want?’

Bovai hesitated and Tinuva took a step closer, bow still down.

Bovai half-raised his bow and he stopped, tensing. ‘You were once of the People. You know that what you’ve become is an abomination to us all. You are a traitor to your race. Honour demands that you die. It is not what I
want
; it is what I
need
,’ Bovai finally hissed.

Tinuva sighed again. ‘Then there is no more to be said,’ he replied, but now his voice was full with power, power as Bovai once remembered it and it sent a thrill through him. For this was the Morvai he had once loved, but whom he must now slay, and all the glory that had once been Tinuva’s would now be his. Honour would be restored, the clan would again be whole, and Tinuva could be buried as a brother who had finally returned, through death, to his own blood.

‘Then, “brother” let us begin,’ Bovai snarled and he stepped back.

Another eddy of snow swirled up, as if the passion of the two had stirred the breeze. An arrow snapped past Bovai, missing him by inches. He raced from the clearing, one now with the wind, turned, caught a glimpse of a shadow, and released his bolt.

The hunt between the brothers had begun.

‘Damn it, tie it off, tie it off !’

Dennis pushed his way in, tearing off his gloves, and helped to lash 291

off a log. One of his men, swearing, pulled back bloodied hands that had been wrapped around the rope. Throwing another lash around the log, Dennis pulled hard, straining to keep it taut as two men behind him threw the end of the rope around one of the stone abutments and tied it off.

‘Secured!’

Dennis stepped back, looking up at the two logs which had been raised to form an inverted V twenty feet high at the edge of the broken span. The whole contraption was wobbly: they simply didn’t have enough rope, nor the time, to do it all right, but it would have to do. A double length of rope, flung over the top of the V, dangled down to the black, scorched stones.

He looked over the edge. It was nearly two hundred feet down to the river below. He caught a glimpse of two Tsurani far below.

They had volunteered to try and get across the river. There had been three of them, but the third had lost his grip on the icy rocks and plummeted to his death. The two survivors were valiantly trying to make their way across the torrent below, jumping from icy rock to icy rock, with the hope of then climbing up the far side. If they succeeded a rope would be hurled across and they would help in the desperate task of trying to pull the timber across.

Leaving the bridge, Dennis went up the road a couple of hundred yards and then turned into the woods. A group of Tsurani were hurriedly cutting the branches off a tree which had just been dropped.

He paced off the length.

‘I already checked it, Hartraft – it’s long enough.’

Asayaga looked up, sweat dripping from his brow, axe clutched tightly in his hand.

‘The top looks too thin – it might just break when we drop it.’

‘Tsurani are builders, Hartraft; we know what we are doing.’

‘You’d better.’

Asayaga stood up. ‘Don’t try to order me any more, Hartraft. We know what we are doing. You’re suppose to be handling the defences, leave this to me.’

‘Once across we settle things. Tsurani.’

‘Why do you think I’m working so hard?’ Asayaga snapped.

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Dennis was tempted to make a reply but knew they were wasting precious time. ‘Just keep at it, damn it.’

He stalked back to the road and pressed on up to the crest. Half of his men were dragging in logs and throwing up a barricade. To either side men were dropping saplings, making a tangle that could stop a cavalry charge from cutting around the flanks. The position was impossible, however, and he knew it. The crest was too open.

They might break up the initial charge, but eventually they’d be flanked and pushed back. Once off the crest, the ground below –around the bridge – was a death trap.

In the ruins of the mill he saw the old women and children huddled around a fire. He looked over at the corporal who had come in from the rearguard only minutes ago. They had already spoken but he felt compelled to do so again.

‘You know what to do for them if the moredhel start to break through,’ Dennis said, nodding back towards the mill.

The old corporal gulped and nodded. ‘Trust me, sir. I’ll see to it.

The poor little lambs . . .’ He looked at the tiny faces of the children and the frightened expressions on the women and his own visage softened for a moment, then with resolution in his voice, he said,

‘I’ll see it’s done, sir.’

Dennis caught a glimpse of Roxanne, who had refused to stay in the mill, and was now helping with the defences. She noticed his gaze, nodded in his direction and continued with the work.

From back down on the road a gang of Tsurani emerged, half-carrying, half-dragging a sixty foot log. Dennis raced back down to join them.

‘I have this, Hartraft,’ Asayaga snapped and Dennis stepped back.

The men cursed and struggled for several minutes to swing the log out onto the road, but because it was twice as long as the road was wide, the heavy root-end snagged in the saplings at the edge. The tangle was finally cut away and the Tsurani, half-running, propelled forward by the weight of their burden, slipped down the road and up on to the bridge. Reaching the edge, they laid the log down under the inverted V.

Asayaga shouted for the ropes from the overhead hoist and the 293

four men holding the cables lowered them down. The ropes were slung around the log like nooses, and tied off. Thirty Tsurani started to push the log forward. Dennis wanted to comment, but remained silent. Asayaga was in charge of this and the Tsurani were damn good engineers.

The log was soon nearly thirty feet across, the men at the front letting go as their section passed the edge, then coming around to the root-end, ready to throw their weight on if it started to tip.

Finally it was balanced: another few feet and it would pitch over into the gorge. Asayaga detailed off the rest of his men to the cables going up over the inverted V, ordering them to pull and keep the forward end of the log up high. The far end of the log started to rise and after going up only half a dozen feet the root-end started to skid backwards.

‘I need more men!’ Asayaga shouted.

Dennis grabbed one of his soldiers and sent him up the hill to get those working on the barricade to come down. The women and children who had been watching from the mill instinctively came out and Asayaga directed them to the cables.

‘We need to hoist the log, and push the root-end forward at the same time!’ Asayaga shouted.

Kingdom troops came swarming down the road. Dennis had suggested that horses be used but Asayaga had refused because the ground was too slippery and if only one of them balked, or worse yet took off in the wrong direction, the whole enterprise would be lost.

Asayaga detailed men off to the two ropes and waited for a moment as several of them brought up a short length of log and set it across the butt of the span so that more men could press in on it.

A Tsurani, showing remarkable bravery, clawed his way up the inverted V, carrying a small bucket of butter carried out from Wolfgar’s. It was all they had to use for grease where the ropes crossed over the top of the V. Dennis could see that with proper equipment like a simple block and tackle, the entire job could be done by a dozen men. Now it would have to be brute strength and a prayer that the ropes did not snap under the strain, that the log didn’t hang up in the sling, and that the Tsurani had indeed made it long enough.

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The men struggled on the ropes and gradually hoisted the front end higher, while at the other end the Tsurani pushed the span forward. The next twenty feet gained came fairly easily but there was still another eight to ten feet to go. A precarious balance was reached when the log was high at the far end, but was now so steeply angled that no more forward purchase could be gained.

‘Another hour, damn it, and I could have made a pivoting sling and swung the whole damn thing over with twenty men!’ Asayaga cried, looking over angrily at Dennis.

‘We don’t have an hour.’

Asayaga held up both hands. ‘No one move!’

All fell silent.

‘Men on the ropes, the angle is too steep now. As we push on the log, slowly give way and lower it back down.’

The men still leaning into the rope nodded. Asayaga slowly motioned with his hands and a few feet were surrendered. Then he barked a command and those pushing on the root-end gained a bit of ground. The log suddenly stopped and Dennis could see where one of the slings had slipped backwards several feet.

Asayaga saw it as well and cursed under his breath.

‘Cut the supports for the hoist,’ Dennis said, ‘As it pitches forward run the log out.’

Asayaga looked over at Dennis with an icy glare. ‘I’m running this.’

Dennis was ready to flare back but saw that all around the men were watching them, the tension ready to explode. He sensed that if the log tumbled over and went into the river a blood-bath would ensue.

He slowly extended his hands. ‘You are the engineer, Asayaga, but if we are to save those children we have to do this now.’

Asayaga looked at the children manning the ropes and then back at the sling. He quickly stepped up to the edge, studied the log and the hoist, then stepped back. ‘Get off from up there!’ he shouted, and the man with the butter threw the bucket aside and slipped back down.

‘All right, Hartraft, but if it all goes over the edge it’s your decision.’

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‘Our decision, Tsurani.’

Dennis picked up an axe and went to one side of the hoist, Asayaga doing the same at the other side. Both ends of the hoist were resting on the bridge. If they cut them loose at the same time, he reasoned, the entire affair should pitch forward, dropping the log on the far side.

‘Get ready,’ Asayaga cried and raised his axe. ‘When it starts to let go, you men on the log push forward. On the ropes, let go when you can’t hold it any longer and don’t get tangled.’

He looked over at Hartraft, then nodded and brought his axe down.

Dennis struck at nearly the same instant and the ropes snapped free, parting with an audible crack. Groaning, the hoist began to pitch forward, slowly at first and then in an instant crashing over.

The men on the end of the log shouted and ran forward, throwing their weight in.

Dennis looked up and saw the far end of the log slam down on the opposite span, bounce, hold precariously and then roll, as if about to go over the edge. A groan rose up even as the men on the root-end continued to strain, driving forward. The log snagged against the side railing of the bridge, barely a foot of its length secured to the other side.

No one moved for a moment, as if all feared that an errant step, even a word spoken, would cause the log to roll and fall. The hoist, like a crudely-fashioned necklace hung to either side.

‘We need a man across there,’ Asayaga hissed. ‘Someone light. Get Osami.’

The boy stepped forward, nodding as Asayaga explained what had to be done. He pulled off his cloak and tunic, looked at the log, then sat down and yanked off his boots as well. Barefoot, he took a long coil of rope and slung it over his shoulder while Asayaga tied another rope around his waist. Asayaga grasped the boy by the shoulders, then let him go.

The boy stepped up onto the log and everyone fell silent. He swallowed hard and looked over at Dennis. ‘I save Richard friends,’

he said calmly, and then he was out over the chasm, walking slowly, upright, arms extended.

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No one spoke as he placed one foot in front of another. The log sagged in the middle and it shifted slightly and a gasp went up as the boy seemed to sway, then regained his footing. Reaching the middle, he climbed over the ends of the hoist, advanced half a dozen feet then stopped. The rope trailing behind him had snagged on the hoist. Gingerly he reached down and started to untie the rope around his waist.