Читать книгу The Hopes of Kings - Steve Reilly - Страница 14

Chapter 7

The land was dry as he rode north. The ground was dry, the trees and grasses were dry, even the air was dry. The whole world was dry. Jaimz thought. Dry and changed.

They had left the farm near Thistledowne only days ago and he had planned to be well on his way by now. But the King’s Road finished at Thistledowne, and the Northern Way did not go to the mountains. They were forced to travel over untouched land as they rode north with no road or trail to lead the way. Progress was slow though they encountered no problems with the low hills and wide grassy plains and his men were keen to obey the commands he gave following their training. Travel was simply not as fast as he had hoped it would be.

He kept them to the route he had taken with Xavier when they chased the girl witch, and they were still in an area of small trees and gaping cracks where water raced away when it fell. These slashes across the land could be easily navigated by the horses and foot soldiers, but the supporting carts of weapons and food were stalled until a way past could be found. Glancing up to the sun as it climbed almost to its peak, he knew that the column would need to stop again soon for food. But of more concern to him was water. They had brought with them all that they could carry, and he knew that more was available at the base of the cliff, but between here and there, water would be scarce.

He decided to push on a little further before stopping.

Jaimz looked over his shoulder at the two lines of riders stretching out behind him and thought of how they too had changed. In a few short weeks they had been transformed from ill-disciplined militia squads to part of The Fist, the great army of The Society. And he was now a Field Captain, leading them to their first battle. Though Jaimz considered that battle was not the right word for this was to be no more than a mission of discovery.

The council had ordered his task. He was to determine the true strength and numbers of the auchs that inhabited the northern mountains. But his concerns came at the wording, it instructed him to engage the enemy and determine their strength. He would do what they asked but he knew that any minor skirmish could end in a major battle. He had to be prepared and his men should be rested and ready.

Looking back over his shoulder again, he decided there were some things he would never get used to. When he was part of a militia group they could ride fast and stop only briefly when food or water was needed and broken ground meant little, but an army lumbered along and any break was a major task. Firstly there was the time it took to stop a line this long, and then to have them gather for food or rest. But getting them organised and moving again took even more time. There was much more to leading a Finger of The Fist than any of the Field Captains had imagined, and he was sure the others were finding the same difficulties on their march south to Whitebridge. And while he only had at his command a quarter of the men they led, there were four of them, four Field Captains to share the work. Should he feel the pride of the council’s faith in his abilities, sending him to travel north alone? Or had they thought he had nothing to face, only sending one Finger to find the auchs?

That raised another question that played games with his mind. What was happening in the capital? The messenger they had been expecting had never arrived, and although the others would learn of the outcome of the planned coup, he would be left not knowing if he was to return, or break up his men and go back into hiding. He could only continue and hope that all was well.

Winter was approaching and the days were becoming shorter, but the nights were proving clear with enough light shining down on the land from the full moon and vast field of stars to allow him to press on into the period after dusk. Although he was frustrated with the pace, this provided some consolation and he also knew there were no constraints on the time of his mission other than the need for water. Eventually the ice-capped peaks of the mountains would loom in the distance ahead of them.

He slapped the saddle with an open hand and his horse looked back enquiringly.

A soft wind blew from the north, out of the mountains, carrying with it the threat of cold days and even colder nights. But although the wind came off the ice it carried no moisture, making the cool air bearable for the moment. They would reach the unusual band of trees he remembered that spread along the base of the cliff soon enough, and once there he knew they would be close to the fissure where he and Xavier had discovered the passage to the high country and the mountains beyond. Then their mission could really begin. But he could not plan too far ahead until he determined if the auchs were guarding the pass.

The army crawled on into the early afternoon, giving Jaimz time to think on recent events that led him to where he was today. Only weeks ago he was hiding on the farm north of Whitebridge, waiting to hear if his leader was still alive. Now he rode in command of more than eight hundred men dressed in the black uniform of The Fist and Xavier had become a counsellor for The Society. He still found it difficult to believe how quickly his world had changed and held no doubts that his own rise was due solely to Xavier’s good fortune, but now he carried responsibilities, not only for completing his orders, but for the welfare of his men too.

Finally he was forced to call a halt to their slow march. As the line of soldiers crumpled to a stop, Jaimz sent word to Thom asking if he would join him. Another man was sent to bring in Lenk-Shadow Gerard who was ahead with his scouts. Thom arrived quickly and together they walked across the brown grass and out of earshot of the other soldiers.

“How is the water holding up?” Jaimz asked.

He had placed Thom in charge of supplies because, although the years were catching up with him, he trusted the man and knew him capable of writing and deciphering numbers. It also gave him a purpose after being wounded when a witch had defended herself two years back, driving a pitchfork through his leg when he was not watching. It left him with a limp, but he was still a good and reliable soldier.

“Not good. We don’t ‘ave enough to get ‘alfway to the auch-spawn mountains the way we’re usin’ it.”

Although the news was not good it was what he had been expecting to hear. He turned away to gather his thoughts while Thom knew to stand and wait. After considering his options Jaimz kicked wildly at a tuft of grass before turning back to his friend.

“We will need to ration our supplies. Put a guard on the barrels and allow each man one cup in the morning and evening. There will be no water for anything else.”

Thom nodded his understanding of what the order meant. Although they were now a disciplined army, they recently were able to go anywhere and do as they pleased. This could lead to trouble and the guards may be required to enforce the order with their swords. But he left to put the measures in place without question.

Jaimz walked the patchy ground waiting for the lone rider. Lenk-Shadow Gerard was a big man, not the sort of man you would expect to see in charge of the scouts and infiltrators, but he had learned to use his size to his advantage. The weight he carried around his body came from many days at various inns and taverns across the land and while he was large, he was a very fit man and he could ride or walk for long sessions with ease and his personality allowed him to fit into any group despite his face being mostly hidden by long shaggy hair and a short beard. This is what made him good at his work, his solid large arms could expertly wield a sword or snap a man’s neck on command, his legs were built to carry his load but he was best known among his men for his skills with a knife.

He reined his horse and dismounted before the Field Captain. After exchanging brief greetings Jaimz brought up the subject of water, to be told that only small amounts of drinkable water had been found. Although he had crossed this land with Xavier, they had only travelled one path. He had hoped without belief that a different route would supply the water they needed.

“If only we were a smaller group,” mused Gerard. “We have found many pockets of water spread across the land but only enough to supply a few men.”

“That is what I feared,” muttered Jaimz, speaking more to himself than his scout.

He stood looking out over the land to the north, still dabbed in green despite the lack of water before pulling himself back to the army.

“Come and have some food before you go,” he offered.

Together they walked back to the army, but something in what Gerard had hinted at sat distantly on his mind, a thought just out of reach of understanding. While he ate, the words grew together and an idea began to coalesce into true thought. He called for his officers to join him and informed them of their lack of water.

“But Gerard has found enough water to supply small groups. So that is what we shall be. We are going to split up.”

His voice grew more confident his thoughts became spoken words.

“Each squad will be under the command of their sergeant and travel as we have done for years. They will find their way north and we will meet in the trees where Xavier formed camp on my last trip. There are enough men from that trip that know where we go to act as guides. The carts will remain behind, to make their way back to Thistledowne at their own pace. We will travel much fast without them. Ride well and I will see you at the cliff.”

He remembered to give a final warning.

“And one last order, when we get close there will be no fires. If the auchs are watching we do not want to warn them of our presence until we are all gathered and ready. Are there any questions?”

The idea of small groups arriving only to be attacked by animals out of their own nightmares was enough to convince the officers. There would be no fires. When no one spoke, he sent them back to gather their squads and move out.