Sorcerer of the North (6 page)

"Very well," he said, wheeling his mount. Will nodded his gratitude as the knight set spurs to his horse and began to canter clumsily back the way he had come.

As the hoofbeats faded, Will took stock of the ground around him. At this point, the path ran relatively straight for fifty meters in either direction, the trees were set back and the ground was level, leaving an open space. This would do as well as any other spot to meet the Skandians, he thought. He could keep them at a distance if he needed to and had room to maneuver.

He backed the horse up a dozen paces or so, then stopped in the middle of the path. The dog, belly low to the grass, loped back beside him and dropped flat. Will glanced up at the sun. It was a little behind him, so it would be in the Skandians' eyes. That was all to the good, he thought. He shrugged the deep cowl of the cloak up over his head and settled the longbow comfortably across the saddle bow. His position was ready without being overtly threatening.

Tug's ears twitched and a fraction of a second later the dog let out a low warning growl. Will could see movement in the shadows under the trees at the bend in the path.

"All right," he told his two animals. Settle down. He eased his seat in the saddle and slouched comfortably, waiting for the Skandians.

Gundar Hardstriker, skipper of the
Wolfcloud
, stepped out into the afternoon sunlight from the shade under the trees. At his back, twenty-seven Skandian warriors marched in double file. His eyes a little dazzled after the dim light of the forest, Gundar stopped in surprise at the sight of a solitary figure on the road ahead of them.

Not a knight or a warrior of any kind, he saw. It was a slightly built figure on a small shaggy horse. There was a longbow held almost casually across his thighs, but no sign of other weapons. No ax, no sword, no mace or club. His men straggled to a halt behind him, fanning out to either side of the path as they moved to see what was causing the delay.

"A Ranger," said Ulf Oakbender, who pulled the bow oar on board
Wolfcloud
, and Gundar realized he was right. The sun's dazzle, almost directly behind the waiting figure, had stopped him from making out the mottled cloak that was the sign of a Ranger. Now, as his eyes adjusted, he could see the strange, irregular patterns that seemed to shimmer and move with a life of their own.

"Good pastnoon," called a clear voice. "What can we do for you?"

It was the surprisingly young voice of the speaker, as well as the fact that he used the traditional Skandian greeting, that caused Gundar to hesitate. Behind him, he heard his men muttering, as puzzled as he was at this sudden appearance. They had expected either resistance or flight from the people they encountered, not a polite inquiry.

Realizing that he had somehow lost the initiative, Gundar called angrily, "Step aside! Step aside, run or fight. We don't care which way. You choose."

He started forward and the figure straightened slightly in the saddle. "No further." The voice had a ring of authority now and no sign of any indecision. Gundar hesitated again. Behind him, he heard Ulf's low voice.

"Be careful, Gundar. These Rangers can shoot like the devil himself."

As if he had heard Ulf's whispered warning, the Ranger continued: "Keep coming and you'll be dead before you take another two steps. Let's just talk a while, shall we?"

Gundar, conscious of the eyes of his men on him, snorted disdainfully and started toward the rider. He saw a brief blur of movement. Recalling the incident later, he had no clear recollection of what the movement was. The strange, shimmering, mottled pattern of the cloak confused the eye and the Ranger moved at lightning speed as well. But he heard the savage
hiss-thud!
and an arrow was quivering in the ground, its head buried directly between his feet. He stepped back rapidly.

"It could have been between your eyes," the voice said calmly, and Gundar realized that it was the truth. He lowered the battleax that had been resting over his shoulder, and leaned on its hilt as its head touched the ground.

"What do you want?" he asked, and the figure shrugged.

"Just a few words between friends. I wasn't aware that the Hallasholm Treaty had been rescinded."

"The treaty doesn't ban individual raiding," Gundar replied. He thought he saw the figure nodding, although it was hard to tell with the cowl of the cloak covering his head.

"Not in so many words, perhaps," he said. "But Erak Starfollower is said to disapprove strongly—particularly where it concerns his friends and their property."

Gundar laughed scornfully. "Friends? The Oberjarl doesn't look for friends among Araluens!" he said, although a worm of doubt was wriggling in his belly as he said the words. There was a pause. The Ranger didn't answer his question directly. Instead, he looked at the sky and the low autumn sun.

"It's late in the raiding season," Will said finally. "I assume you've been raiding the Gallic and Iberic coasts?" It was an easy assumption. There had been no word of any raiding on the south coast of Araluen. Now, watching the group before him, he thought he understood why they had landed here.

"It'll be a long hard pull across the Stormwhite at this time of year," he said, maintaining his easy, friendly tone. "The autumn gales will be starting soon. You'll winter at Skorghijl, I suppose?"

He saw the ripple of surprise go through the Skandians. The leader glanced at his men to silence them.

"Skorghijl? What do you know of Skorghijl?"

"I know it's a black rock, hundreds of kilometers from anywhere. It's wet and freezing and totally devoid of any comfort or even a single blade of grass," Will told him, "but it's still preferable to crossing the Stormwhite in bad weather." He paused for effect, then added casually, "Or at least, it was when I was there in
Wolfwind
."

Now
that
had an effect, thought Will.
Wolfwind
had been Erak's wolfship before he had been elected Oberjarl of the Skandians. Yet there would be very few Araluens who knew the fact—Skandian ships didn't have their names painted on them. He saw the group muttering in low voices, saw the uncertainty in the stance of their leader as they realized that the only way he might have known the name of Erak's ship would be to have known Erak himself.

That was precisely the thought that was going through Gundar's mind. Yet he hadn't made the obvious connection. Ulf had. He grabbed his leader's arm.

"It's him!" he said urgently. "The one who helped defeat the eastern riders!"

Gundar peered at the figure on the horse. He'd heard of the young Ranger apprentice who had fought side by side with the Skandians five years ago, but he'd never seen him. Gundar had been upcountry during the brief, bloody war with the Temujai. Not so Ulf. He'd taken his place in the shield wall during the final confrontation. Now, as Will tossed back the cowl of his cloak and the shock of unruly hair was visible, he recognized him.

"It's him, Gundar!" he told his captain, then added, with a grim laugh, "As well you stopped when you did. I saw him empty five Temujai saddles in as many seconds during the battle."

That wasn't all, Ulf knew. If this were the legendary apprentice he was thinking of, then he was a close friend of the Oberjarl—and raiding in his territory might not be the best career move a wolfship skirl could make. Erak was renowned for his loyalty to friends—and his short temper with those who offended them.

Gundar, not the quickest of thinkers, had reached the same contusion a few seconds after his deputy. He hesitated, not sure what to say or do next. He and his men had an urgent need that had influenced their decision to raid Seacliff. They needed provisions to see them through the long, bitter winter months on Skorghijl. The bare island provided a safe harbor for wolfships but little in the way of food, and
Wolfcloud
's cruise had been anything but successful when it came to capturing supplies. If they sailed to Skorghijl as they were, they would quite possibly starve to death. At best they would go very hungry. Gundar and his men needed to raid. They needed meat and flour and grain to see them through the winter. And wine, if they could get it, he thought, his tongue unconsciously licking his dry lips as the thought crossed his mind. Friend or not, he thought, the Oberjarl could hardly blame him for looking after the well-being of his crew.

"Ride away, Ranger," he called, making a decision. "I'd prefer not to raise my weapon against a friend of Skandia, so I'll give you this last chance."

He hefted the massive ax again as he spoke. He was a little disconcerted to see a smile touch the young man's face.

"How very kind of you," Will said pleasantly. "And if I do 'ride away,' what do you propose to do?"

Gundar pointed in the direction of the castle and the attendant village that he knew lay some way beyond the trees.

"What we came here to do," he declared. "We'll take what we want and go."

"You won't get much with only ten men," Will said, in a reasonable tone of voice. Gundar snorted angrily.

"Ten? I've got twenty-seven men behind me!" There was an angry growl of assent from his men—although Ulf didn't join in, Gundar noticed.

This time, when the Ranger spoke, there was no trace of the pleasant, reasonable tone. Instead, the voice was hard and cold.

"You haven't reached the castle yet," Will said. "I've got twenty-three arrows in my quiver still, and a further dozen in my packsaddle. And you've got several kilometers to go—all within bowshot of the trees there. Bad shot as I am, I should be able to account for than half your men. Then you'll be facing the garrison with just ten men."

Involuntarily, Gundar's eyes swung to the tree line. He realized that the Ranger was right. He could fade into the forest and keep a constant fire on them as they tried to reach the castle.

"Try to come after me and you'll just make it easier," Will added, and Gundar swore explosively under his breath. Mounted as he was, and with a Ranger's skill at avoiding detection in the trees, Will could evade pursuit easily while he cut the small force of Skandians to ribbons. The wolfship skirl felt rage boiling up inside him. He was trapped here, with no options left to him. On the one hand, if he didn't raid the village, he and his men would starve. On the other, if they tried, a lot of them would certainly die. Will watched him carefully, waiting for the right moment, just before the rage boiled over into frustrated action.

"Alternatively," Will said calmly, "we might be able to come to some arrangement."

"They're coming!" The lookout's cry echoed down from the highest tower on Castle Seacliff. Baron Ergell squinted up, his eyes narrowed against the glare, then followed the direction the man's arm was pointing.

A group of Skandian warriors was emerging from the trees into the cleared ground around the castle. A mounted figure rode beside the man who led them. There was also, he made out, a black-and-white dog trotting ahead of the group.

"He talked to them, you say?" Ergell asked, and Norris nodded, standing at the battlements beside his leader. When he had left Will on the path, he had gone no farther than the next bend. He had watched the Ranger meet the Skandians, ready to go to his aid if necessary.

"That's right. He simply barred the way and talked to them. I saw him fire one arrow as a warning—actually, I didn't see it," he added, correcting himself. "It just sort of... happened. They're uncanny, those Rangers."

"And he said something about a banquet?"

This time Norris shrugged. He'd already passed that instruction to Rollo, mystified as he was by it. "A banquet, my lord. Although what he has in mind I can't tell you."

As they had been talking, Ergell had been counting the Skandian force approaching the castle. Nearly thirty of them, he saw. More than they could afford to engage. They'd have to face up to the fact that the village would be plundered and burned to the ground. The villagers themselves would be safe enough inside the castle walls and the livestock had been scattered as Will had ordered. But his people, his dependents, would lose their homes and their belongings, and the Baron knew it was his fault.

The Skandians had stopped now, some two hundred meters from the castle. He saw the Ranger lean down from his saddle to talk to their leader, a massive man wearing a horned helmet and carrying a double-bladed battleax. Some form of agreement seemed to pass between them and Will turned his horse toward the castle, letting him break into a fast canter. The dog accelerated from a standing start as only a sheepdog could, to keep station ahead of him.

"Perhaps we should go down and see what's in his mind," the Baron said, and he and his Battlemaster headed for the stairs leading to the courtyard below.

They had reached ground level by the time the gatekeepers were letting Will through the small wicket set into the main gate. He nodded to the Baron and to Sir Norris as they approached.

"We have an agreement with the Skandians, my lord," he said. Ergell realized that he had spoken in a carrying voice, and used the word "we" so that those within earshot would assume that he had been acting on the Baron's instructions. It was a tactful thing to do, Ergell realized. It would have been easy for the Ranger to have undermined his authority in front of his own people, yet he had chosen not to do so.

"I see," he replied gruffly. It wouldn't do to let people know that he didn't have the slightest idea what Will was talking about. The young Ranger stepped closer and lowered his voice so that only Ergell and Norris could hear him.

"They need provisions for the winter," he said quietly. "That's why they're here. I've told them we'll let them have five bullocks and ten sheep, plus a reasonable amount of grain for flour."

"Five bullocks!" Ergell began indignantly, but Will's cold glance stopped him in mid-protest.

"They'll take them anyway," he said, "
and
destroy the village in the bargain. It's a small enough price to pay, my lord."

His steady gaze held the Baron's. Unspoken was the thought that Ergell was in this position because of his own neglect—his and Norris's. In that sense, it was a small price to pay. He saw Norris nodding agreement with Will.