Oakleaf Bearers

13

T HE TWO MEN STOOD OVER THE TANGLE OF DISCARDED ROPES lying in the snow. Erak pursed his lips, then turned to Halt. "Well, so far, you're right," he said. "The little beggar escaped once Olak pretended to fall asleep on guard duty." He glanced sideways at the large Skandian who had been assigned to the last watch. "You did pretend to fall asleep, didn't you?" he added, with a touch of sarcasm.

The warrior grinned easily at him. "I was wonderful, Jarl Erak," he said. "You've never seen such a lifelike impersonation of a sleeping man. I should have been a traveling player."

Erak grunted skeptically. "So what now?" he asked Halt.

"Now, I follow him while he leads me to the main body of Temujai," the Ranger said. "As we discussed last night."

"I've been thinking about that," Erak replied. "And I've decided we're going to make a change. I'm going with you."

Halt had been walking toward the spot where the horses were tethered. He stopped and turned to face the Skandian leader, a determined look on his face. "We discussed this last night. We agreed that I would be quicker and less noticeable if I went alone."

"No. We didn't agree that. You agreed that," Erak corrected him. "And even if you're right, you're just going to have to settle for being slower and noisier, and make allowances for the fact."

Halt drew in breath to begin a protest, but Erak forestalled him.

"Be reasonable," he said. "We've agreed that circumstances seem to make us temporary allies-"

"Which is why you'll keep my three companions here as hostages," Halt put in sarcastically, and Erak simply shrugged.

"Of course. They're my surety that you'll come back. But put yourself in my shoes. If there is a Temujai army out there somewhere, I don't want to take a secondhand report to my Oberjarl. I want to see it for myself. So I'm coming with you. I may need you to track the prisoner, but I can do my own looking."

He paused, waiting to see Halt's reaction. The Ranger said nothing, so Erak continued: "After all, the hostages might ensure that you come back. But they're no guarantee that you'll give me an accurate report-or even an honest one."

Halt seemed to weigh the statement for a few seconds. Then he saw a possible advantage.

"All right," he agreed. "But if you're coming with me, there's no need to keep my companions as hostages to guarantee my return. Let them go back across the border while you and I go find the Temujai."

Erak smiled at him and shook his head slowly. "I don't think so," he replied. "I'd like to think that I can trust you, but there's really no reason why I should, is there? If you know my men are holding your friends, it might make you less likely to stick one of those knives in me the minute we're out of sight over the hill there."

Halt spread his hands in a an innocent gesture. "Do you really think an undersized little runt like me could get the better of a big, hulking sea wolf like you?"

Erak smiled grimly at him. "Not for a moment," he said. "But this way I'll be able to sleep nights and turn my back on you without worrying."

"Fair enough," Halt agreed. "Now, could we get going while these tracks are still fresh, or would you prefer to argue until the snow melts?"

Erak shrugged. "You're the one who's doing all the arguing," he told him. "Let's go."

Halt glanced over his shoulder as Abelard set his hooves more securely against the steep slope. Behind him, Erak was swaying insecurely on the back of the Temujai horse. The captive had made his escape on foot, and Halt had decided that the small, shaggy and sure-footed steppes pony would be a better mount for Erak than either of Horace's battlehorses. The Skandian warriors, as was their custom, had been traveling on foot.

"I thought you said you could ride," he challenged as the jarl grabbed nervously at his mount's shaggy mane, holding himself in the saddle more by brute strength than any inherent sense of balance.

"I did," Erak replied through gritted teeth. "I just didn't say I could ride well."

They had been following the escaped Temujai warrior's trail all day. After making their way through the Serpent Pass, their trail had swung back in an arc from the Teutlandt border and they were some thirty kilometers into Skandian territory once more. Halt shook his head, then went back to peering at the ground in front of them, looking for the faint traces that the fleeing Tem'uj had left behind him.

"He's very good," he said quietly.

"Who's that?" Erak asked, the last word being torn from him as his horse lurched and slid a few steps. Halt indicated the trail he was following. The Skandian looked but couldn't see a thing.

"The Tem'uj," Halt continued. "He's covering his tracks as he goes. I don't think your man would have been able to follow him."

Which was the crux of the matter. When Halt and Erak had agreed to join forces the previous night, it had been the result of their mutual need. Halt's natural inclination had been to see what the Temujai were up to. Erak had the same need. But he also had need of Halt's tracking skills. He was only too aware of his own men's limitations.

"Well," he said jerkily, "that's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Yes." Halt smiled grimly. "The question is, why are you?"

Erak wisely said nothing. He concentrated his efforts into staying astride the shaggy horse as it struggled up the steep slope, under the unaccustomed weight of the bulky Skandian sea captain.

They came to the crest with a sudden rush, their horses scrambling the last few meters through the wet snow. They found themselves looking down on a deep, wide valley, and beyond that, another range of hills.

Below them on the vast plain, a mass of campfires sent columns of smoke spiraling into the late-afternoon air, spreading as far as the eye could see-thousands of them, surrounded by more thousands of dome-shaped felt tents. The smell of the smoke reached them now. Not heady and scented, like pine smoke, but acrid and sour smelling. Erak wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"What are they burning?" he asked.

"Dried horse dung," Halt replied briefly. "They carry their fuel source with them. Look."

He pointed to where the Temujai horse herd could be seen, a giant, amorphous mass that seemed to flow across the valley floor as the horses sought fresh grazing.

"Gorlog's teeth!" Erak exclaimed, stunned at the numbers. "How many are there?"

"Ten thousand, maybe twelve," Halt replied briefly. The Skandian let out a low whistle.

"Are you sure? How can you tell?" It wasn't a sensible question, but Erak was overwhelmed by the size of the horse herd and he asked the question more for something to say than for any other reason. Halt looked at him dryly.

"It's an old cavalry trick," he said. "You count the legs and divide by four."

Erak returned the look. "I was just making conversation, Ranger," he said. Halt seemed singularly unimpressed by the statement.

"Then don't," he replied shortly. There was silence as they studied the enemy camp.

"Are you saying there are ten to twelve thousand warriors down there?" Erak asked finally. The number was a daunting one. At best, Skandia could put a force of fifteen hundred warriors in the field to face them. Perhaps two thousand, at the outside. That meant odds of six or seven to one. But Halt was shaking his head.

"More like five to six thousand," he estimated. "Each warrior will have at least two horses. There are probably another four to five thousand personnel in the baggage train and supply columns, but they wouldn't be combatants."

That was a little better, thought Erak. The odds had reduced to around three or four to one. A little better, he thought. Not a lot.

Not a lot by a long way.