Kring and Engessa looked at each other. ‘Almost any plan will work,’ Kring shrugged, ‘as long as we all know what we’re doing.’
‘How will we know when you’re ready for us to attack?’ Engessa asked Sparhawk.
‘My friend Ulath has a horn,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘When he blows it once, my knights will charge. When he blows it twice, Kring’s men will start peeling off the rear elements. When we’ve got the enemy’s full attention, I’ll have Ulath blow three times. That’s when you’ll want to charge.’
Engessa’s eyes were alight. ‘It’s the sort of strategy that doesn’t leave very many survivors among the enemy, Sparhawk-Knight,’ he said.
‘That was sort of the idea, Engessa-Atan.’
The birch forest lay on a long, gradual slope rising from the steppes of central Astel to the rugged foothills on the Atan border. The road was broad and well-maintained, though it tended to wander a great deal. Engessa’s unmounted Atans ranged out about a mile on each side of the road, and for the first three days they reported no sightings of men, although they did encounter large herds of deer. Summer had not yet dried the lingering dampness from the forest floor, and the air in the sun-dappled shade was cool and moist, still smelling of new growth and renewal.
Since the trees obstructed their vision, they rode cautiously. They set up their nighttime encampments while the sun was still above the horizon, and erected certain rudimentary fortifications to prevent surprises after dark.
On the morning of their fourth day in the forest, Sparhawk rose early and walked through the first steel-grey light of dawn to the line where the horses were picketed. He found Khalad there. Kurik’s eldest son had snubbed Faran’s head up close to a birch tree and was carefully inspecting the big roan’s hooves. ‘I was just going to do that,’ Sparhawk said quietly. ‘He seemed to be favouring his left forehoof yesterday.’
‘Stone bruise,’ Khalad said shortly. ‘You know, Sparhawk, you might want to give some thought to putting him out to pasture when we get back home. He’s not a colt any more, you know.’
‘Neither am I, when you get right down to it. Sleeping on the ground’s not nearly as much fun as it used to be.’
‘You’re just getting soft.’
‘Thanks. Is this weather going to hold?’
‘As nearly as I can tell, yes.’ Khalad lowered Faran’s hoof to the ground and took hold of the snubbing rope. ‘No biting,’ he cautioned the horse. ‘If you bite me, I’ll kick you in the ribs.’
Faran’s long face took on an injured expression.
‘He’s an evil-tempered brute,’ Khalad noted, ‘but he’s far and away the smartest horse I’ve ever come across. You should put him to stud. It might be interesting to train intelligent colts for a change. Most horses aren’t really very bright.’
‘I thought horses were among the cleverest of animals.’
‘That’s a myth, Sparhawk. If you want a smart animal, get yourself a pig. I’ve never yet been able to build a pen that a pig couldn’t think his way out of.’
‘They’re built a little close to the ground for riding. Let’s go see how breakfast’s coming.’
‘Who’s cooking this morning?’
‘Kalten, I think. Ulath would know.’
‘Kalten? Maybe I’ll stay here and eat with the horses.’
‘I’m not sure that a bucketful of raw oats would taste all that good.’
‘I’d put it up against Kalten’s cooking any day, my Lord.’
They rode out shortly after the sun rose, and proceeded through the cool, sun-speckled forest. The birds seemed to be everywhere, and they sang enthusiastically. Sparhawk smiled as he remembered how Sephrenia had once punctured his illusion that bird-song was an expression of a love for music. ‘Actually they’re warning other birds to stay away, dear one,’ she had said. ‘They’re claiming possession of nesting-sites. It sounds very pretty, but all they’re really saying is, “My tree. My tree. My tree”.’
Mirtai came back along the road late that morning running with an effortless stride. ‘Sparhawk,’ she said quietly when she reached the carriage, ‘Atan Engessa’s scouts report that there are people up ahead.’
‘How many?’ he asked, his tone suddenly all business.
‘We can’t be certain. The scouts didn’t want to be seen. There are soldiers of some kind out there, and they seem to be waiting for us.’
‘Berit,’ Sparhawk said to the young knight, ‘why don’t you ride on ahead and ask Kalten and the others to join us? Don’t run. Try to make it look casual.’
‘Right.’ Berit rode forward at a trot.
‘Mirtai,’ the big knight said, trying to keep his voice calm, ‘is there any kind of defensible position nearby?’
‘I was just coming to that,’ she replied. ‘There’s a kind of hill about a quarter of a mile ahead. It sort of juts up from the floor of the forest – boulders mostly. They’re covered over with moss.’
‘Could we get the carriage up there?’
She shook her head.
‘You get to walk then, my Queen,’ he said to his wife.
‘We don’t know that they’re hostile, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana objected.
‘That’s true,’ he conceded, ‘but we don’t know that they aren’t either, and that’s far more important.’
Kalten and the others came back along the column with Kring and Engessa.
‘Are they doing anything at all, Atan Engessa?’ Sparhawk asked.
‘Just watching, Sparhawk-Knight. There are more of them than we thought at first – a thousand at least – probably a lot more.’
‘It’s going to be tricky with all these trees,’ Kalten pointed out.
‘I know,’ Sparhawk grunted. ‘Khalad, how close is it to noon?’
‘About another hour, my Lord,’ Khalad replied from the carriage driver’s seat.
‘Close enough then. There’s a hill just up ahead. We’ll ride on to it and make some show of stopping for our midday meal. Our friends here in the carriage will sort of stroll up to the top. The rest of us will spread out around the base of the hill. We’ll build fires and rattle pots and pans together. Ehlana, be silly. I want you and the baroness to do a lot of laughing up there on that hilltop. Stragen, take some men and erect a pavilion of some kind up there. Try to make it look festive. Move some rocks out of your way and sort of pile them up around the hilltop.
‘A siege again, Sparhawk?’ Ulath said disapprovingly.
‘Have you got a better idea?’
‘Not really, but you know how I feel about sieges.’
‘Nobody said you had to like it, Ulath,’ Tynian told him.
‘Spread the word,’ Sparhawk told them, ‘and let’s try to make it all look very casual.’
They were tense as they proceeded along the road at a leisurely-appearing pace. When they rounded a bend and Sparhawk saw the hill, he immediately approved of its strategic potential. It was one of those rock-piles that inexplicably rear up out of forests the world over. It was a conical heap of rounded boulders perhaps forty feet high, green with moss and totally devoid of trees or brush. It stood about two hundred yards to the left of the road. Talen rode to its base, dismounted, scampered