The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (11 page)

Two months passed, and I swear I grew happier with each day. Then came the pinnacle: I was ordered to take my column out to a village not far distant that had been hit by raiders from the Highlands and, in Domina Herstal’s words, “put whatever’s right back in its slot, and deal with whatever’s wrong as you see fit.”

Some might gasp at a man in his fifties being stupid enough to assign the task of warden, judge, and possible executioner to a boy just short of his twentieth birthday, but Herstal was a long spear-cast from being a fool. He’d told off Cheetah Troop’s troop guide, a bearded man named Bikaner who’d been with the regiment for twenty years, and, I found later, a warrant who’d broken in more than a dozen fresh legates, to accompany me. My lance-majors had nearly as much experience, and the column was liberally salted with long-service lances. There were, in fact, only two recruits holding the rank of horseman. With twenty-five men such as these, I would have had to be a complete moron to fail.

I was also given, since the raiders came from across the border, a renegade tribesman named Ysaye we used for a scout. I thought him a complete scoundrel, and Troop Guide Bikaner cheerfully assured me I was correct, but he was inexorably loyal to the regiment, if for no other reason than that he’d been named outlaw in his native Highlands and had also committed murder here in Urey. We were his last and only safety, the troop guide said, “ ‘less he c’n figger somethin’ else, an’ then he’ll turn on us like he did ever’one else.”

We rode to the village, and set up a tribunal in the square. The situation was simple — or so it appeared at first.

The raider was an Urshi chieftain and reputed sorcerer who called himself the Wolf of Ghazi. He’d hit the village near dawn, killed two herdsmen, gravely wounded another, and stolen seven bullocks. But this was not the main plaint of the villagers. He had also broken down the doors of a local merchant, beaten and robbed him, and stolen his only daughter.

Through the weepings and wailings of his family, I asked for what purpose. The babble became worse — the Wolf would either take her to wife, make her a common whore for his men, or, and this was the consensus by volume, sacrifice her in some terrible ceremony, for, as the merchant said, “she was a virgin, blessed by the gods, the favorite of us all.” I asked how this bandit had known which house to break into, and was informed no doubt he’d seen this beautiful flower of Urey, this peerless wonder of young womanhood, this pearl of beauty, when he’d traded in the village.

I was about to ask why the villagers were so foolish as to let a bandit window-shop for what he needs, especially when trade with the Border States was illegal save on certain days clearly specified by the government. But Troop Guide Bikaner shook his head slightly, and I said nothing. Later he told me all of the border towns trade regularly with their enemies, and not infrequently intermarry, which, he said, “makes enforcin’ th’ law interestin’ at times, not knowin’ whether you’re steppin’ into th’ middle of a feud or not.”

We must ride out immediately to save this merchant’s daughter, whose name was Tigrinya, before she was sacrificed to some dark demon, and bring the Wolf to bay, not forgetting, the village chief reminded us, payment not only for the bullocks, which we should also return if possible, but for the deaths and sore injury of his man.

So I rode across a border on my first military campaign — twenty-seven men after a ragamuffin bandit and the peasant girl he’d kidnapped.

Ysaye knew where the Wolf’s lair would be: no more than three leagues from the border, just north of the village he came from and claimed lordship over.

We followed a track into the hills, and twice saw cattle droppings not two days old — we were on the right path. I felt very confident, very sure that we would destroy this man and I’d win great honor.

The lance riding point shouted a warning, and I saw three men ahead, just where the truck entered a narrow defile. They screamed defiance, and lobbed arrows at us that fell well short.

Now we had them! I was about to call for the charge, and Troop Guide Bikaner said, “Sir!” There was something imperative in his tone, and so I held back, although anger touched me — battle is no time for a conference.

“Beggin’ th’ legate’s pardon, but it’s not strange for th’ tribesmen t’ suck so’jers in, sendin’ a few out t’challenge, with th’ main body lyin’ in ambush.”

As he spoke, my confidence, my bravado, vanished, and I cursed, knowing Bikaner was right, and that in addition the Wolf had sent a spell out, seeking a fool who’d allow it a home in his mind and make him bloodthirsty and foolhardy.

“Column … halt!” I snapped. “Dismount! Troop Guide Bikaner, I want four men on foot to go forward as flankers atop those rocks. Five archers halfway to that pass to support them. Make sure they aren’t waiting for us on the other side.”

As my scouts went out, moving like cautious lizards from shelter to shelter, I heard the clatter of horses’ hooves from beyond.

“We’ve sprung it,” Bikaner announced. “There’ll be no one waitin’ now.”

But I’d learned my lesson. There could be a double bluff being played, and so had the men proceed. There was a small pocket beyond the narrow canyon, perfect to tether horses in while their riders waited for twenty-five or so idiots to stumble into the trap, a pocket with fresh, steaming horseapples on the ground. But the Wolf’s riders had broken off.

“That’s th’ way a th’ Men a th’ Hills,” Lance-Major Wace said. “They’ll on’y fight y’ t’yer back, ne’er t’yer face.”

I guessed he thought there was something dishonorable about a handful of poorly trained men not willing to stand up to twenty-seven regulars. I thought anyone who’d fight as he wanted was not only foolish, but destined for a short life as well.

We went on, farther into the mountains, but encountered no other trap.

We rounded a bend, where the track ran halfway up a low hill, with tall, barren mountains on either side, and saw the stronghold of the Wolf of Ghazi.

It was a round tower, perhaps fifty feet high and a bit more in diameter, that’d been laboriously built with flat stones piled atop each other, and crudely mortared with clay from the near-by stream. There were firing slits in the walls, and I counted three floors, and a deck with raised stonework for archers to fight from. The upper floor’s slits were wider, almost windows.

It wasn’t much of a castle — but then, it didn’t need to be to stop us.

There were men atop the tower, and suddenly arrows rained out. They fell well short, but I prudently ordered my men to withdraw, leave their horses with handlers, and come forward prepared for battle.

Before they could, a tall, bearded man stood up on top of the tower. He wore boots, bright red robes, had a belt around his waist with several weapons stuck in it and a blue cloth wrapped neatly around his head. This could only be the Wolf of Ghazi.

“You are dead men!” he screeched, and his voice was sorcerously magnified. “Flee, or face my wrath!”

I called for my two best archers, and rode forward. Perhaps I should’ve dismounted, since a horse under fire can be skittish, but I needed all of the presence I could manage. I stopped at what I estimated was extreme arrow range.

“I am Legate Damastes á Cimabue, of the Seventeenth Lancers, and I speak for the villagers of Urey!” I called in return. “You have broken the laws of our land, and you must pay!”

The Wolf roared laughter.

“I
am the only law I obey! You are a fool!”

“Return the woman! And pay for your misdeeds,” I called back. “You must also bring gold for the families of the men you slew, and the one you maimed.”

“Leave my land, or you die!”

Clearly, we were not communicating any too well.

“You have four hours to consider,” I came back, I’m afraid rather weakly. All that came back was another laugh. We started away, and very suddenly one of my archers, a very alert man named Curti, cursed and his bowstring twanged. There came a shriek from the tower, and a tribesman flopped forward, from one of the windows, his bow dropping from dead fingers before he’d had time to loose a shaft at me.

I was grateful I hadn’t been stupid enough to use a white flag of truce when I rode up — it might have given the man a better aiming point. But now I had my second lesson in the way war was waged in the Border States.

I went back to the men, and we held a council of war. Our options appeared fairly limited, and none were enchanting. We had the Wolf besieged, but how long could twenty-seven men seal off his stronghold? I assumed no more than a day or so before either his bandits would slip off through secret ways we knew nothing about or, just as likely, we ourselves would be attacked by other Men of the Hills. I doubted if the Wolf had many allies, but figured most of the Highlanders would forget a feud for a chance at the head of a Numantian soldier.

We could attack the tower frontally, and be shot down as we charged.

Or we could give up and retreat.

I would accept none of the three, and set my troops to building a breastwork — carrying rocks to build a low stone wall around a tiny hillock near the redoubt, enough to slow down a charge if we were attacked. There were mutters at my order — since no cavalryman prizes physical labor — which were quickly subdued by the warrants. While they set to work, I went out a few yards and sat studying the tower.

There were two doors, both of wood and certainly heavily barred and blocked from the inside. Would it be possible, come nightfall, to set fire to them? This was doubtful: What could I use for firewood? If I had a seer with me, I could’ve had a spell cast that would have made them roar up in fire, but even so, what would that have given me? There would still be a dozen yards of open land to charge across. I stared on. A slight idea came, and I called for Ysaye.

I pointed to the windows on the third floor, and asked if he thought a man could fit through them. He looked closely, and said yes — if he was thin. Very thin. Troop Guide Bikaner would never make it. I looked at the stonework of the tower.

“Can that be climbed?”

Ysaye didn’t need to look.

“I could climb it. To me, to any Man of the Hills, it would be like a highway. But you … the soldiers? I do not think.”

I
did
think, having a bit more respect for my men than he did. But what was the possibility of getting enough men to take the tower up the wall in silence? I started to discard that as another stupid idea, then another possibility came.

“Ysaye, would the Wolf fear magic?”

“Of course. Doesn’t the swordsman always worry that one day he will face someone better with the blade than he? But we have none. Unless the legate has talents so far unblossomed.”

“I surely do,” I said firmly. I asked him for the small jar of blue kohl I knew he would have about him, that all the hillmen used to make up their eyes, thinking it made them more handsome. He puzzled, but handed it over.

I sent for Curti, and borrowed one of his arrows. Then, with two other men, I went back to my vantage point and shouted for the Wolf. He came after a bit, pulling his clothes on.

“What do you want, fool? I was just about to enjoy the woman.”

I paid no attention to what he said, and held up my arrow that I’d stained blue with Ysaye’s kohl. I pointed it at the Wolf, then to the four corners of the compass.

“Wolf, O Wolf,” I cried, trying my best to sound like a magician, “this is thy doom, this is thy end. Cease thy sins, make thy peace with Saionji, with Isa, god of war, or hear the Wheel creak. Obey me, O Wolf, and ye shall live. Send forth the woman, send forth the gold, and I shall not loose this arrow.”

The Wolf ducked reflexively behind one of the outcrop-pings, but when nothing happened, he peered out.

“There is no use to hide, O Wolf. Your doom is sealed,” I cried. “Do not make me send forth my arrow, which needs no bow, needs no string, but can seek you out and kill you. O Wolf, there is no shelter from my arrow, there are no walls thick enough to keep you safe. O Wolf, hear me, and obey! Do not make me send forth my arrow!”

He waited for a spell, then started laughing, bellowing, and I half-hoped he’d strangle himself.

Without making an answer, he vanished.

I walked back to the men. Troop Guide Bikaner made sure none of the men could hear him, and said, quietly, “Nice thinkin', Legate. But bluff’ll not crack
that
one. He’s too hard f’r words. We’ll have t’try another plan.”

I shook my head. “We may, Troop Guide. But not until tomorrow, because my scheme’s just begun.”

I waited until dark, called Ysaye to me, and told him now was the time for him to prove his boasting. I wanted him to climb that tower and perform a certain task.

He paled, and his eyes shifted, and he licked suddenly dry lips before agreeing.

“I will obey, Legate. It shall only take a few moments.”

“I have full confidence in you, Ysaye,” I said. “I’ll go forward with you, and Lancer Curti as well, who shoots most accurately in the dark. He will be able to give you supporting fire if you’re found out. Or …” I let my voice trail away, not needing to add what he would shoot at if Ysaye tried to flee. “If you do not return in one fingerspan of the moon, we shall assume you became lost, and make a great outcry to guide you back.”

His face fell. I’d closed off his possible escape. I took the arrow I’d cast my “spell” on, and told him what to do.

We crept forward. The tower was all alight, and I heard the sounds of laughter and singing. The Wolf’s men weren’t taking my presence heavily.

Ysaye looked at me, at Curti’s ready bow, cast away his robes, and said, “I think, Legate, in another life you were one of us,” and vanished into the darkness. I strained my eyes, and thought, after a bit, I saw something move up the tower wall like a great cautious spider.

Half an hour later, Ysaye reappeared. He was breathing hard and his skin was bruised and scratched.

“I was wrong,” he said, slipping into his clothes. “The climb was almost impossible. I think I am the only man in these hills who could have done it.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, grateful that the darkness hid my grin. “I’ll ensure Domina Herstal hears of your bravery and rewards you —
if our plan works.”