Oakleaf Bearers

17

F ULL NIGHT FELL SHORTLY AFTER THEY HAD SET OUT ON THEIR way back to Hallasholm. But they continued to move, their way lit by a brilliant three-quarter moon that sailed above them in the clear sky.

Halt, Evanlyn and the two apprentices rode, while the Skandians maintained a steady jog, led by the jarl. Halt had suggested that Erak ride the captured Temujai horse again, but he had declined the offer, with a certain amount of alacrity. It seemed now that he had his feet firmly back on the ground, he was determined to keep them that way. His thighs and calves ached from the hours he had spent in the saddle that day, and his backside seemed to be one massive bruise. He was glad of the chance to walk the cramps out of his muscles.

Even allowing for the fact that the Skandians were traveling afoot, Halt was content with the pace they were maintaining. The sea wolves were in superb condition. They could keep up their steady jog all night, with only brief rest periods every hour.

Horace urged Kicker up beside Halt.

"Shouldn't we walk as well?" he suggested. Halt raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why?" he asked. The big youth shrugged, not quite sure how to articulate his thought.

"As a gesture of comradeship," he said finally. "It will give them a feeling of camaraderie."

Camaraderie, Halt knew, was something that was stressed in the early years of Battleschool training. It was part of that inconvenient knightly code. Sometimes he wished that Sir Rodney, the head of Castle Redmont's Battleschool, would give his charges a short course in practicality as well.

"Well, it will give me a feeling of sore legs," he replied at last. "There's no point to it, Horace. The Skandians don't care whether we walk or ride. And when there's no point to something, the best idea is not to do it."

Horace nodded several times. Truth be told, he was relieved that Halt had rejected his suggestion. He was far more at home in the saddle than tramping through the snow. And, now that he thought about it, the Skandians didn't seem to resent the fact that the four Araluens were riding while they walked.

During one of the brief rest stops, Halt caught Will's eye and made an almost imperceptible gesture for the boy to follow him. They walked a short distance from the rest of the party, who were sprawled at ease in the snow. A few of the Skandians watched them with mild interest, but most ignored them.

When he judged that there was no one within earshot, Halt drew Will closer to him, his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"This fellow Erak," he said. "What do you make of him?"

Will frowned. He thought back over how Erak had treated them since he had captured them at the bridge in Celtica. In the first place, he had shielded them from Morgarath, refusing to hand them over to the rebel warlord. Then, on the trip across the Stormwhite Sea, and during their stay on Skorghijl, he had shown a certain rough kindness, and even a regard, toward him and Evanlyn. Finally, of course, he had been instrumental in their escape from Hallasholm, providing clothes, food and a pony, and giving them directions to the hunting cabin in the mountains.

There was only one possible answer.

"I like him," he replied. Halt nodded.

"Yes," he said. "So do I. But do you trust him? That's a different matter to liking."

This time, Will opened his mouth immediately to reply, then paused, wondering if his response might not be too impulsive. Then he realized that trust was always impulsive, and went ahead.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

Halt rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb. "I must say, I agree with you."

"Well, he did help us to escape, you know, Halt," Will pointed out, and the Ranger nodded his recognition of that point.

"I know," he said. "That's what I was thinking about."

He was conscious of the boy's curious glance, but he said no more. As the members of the small party resumed their progress toward the coast, Halt struggled with the problem of how to protect Will and Evanlyn when they returned to Hallasholm. They might be regarded as allies for the moment, merely from force of circumstance. But once they were back in the Skandians' stronghold, things could go badly for the two escaped slaves. Things could become even worse for Evanlyn should her real identity become known to the Skandian Oberjarl.

Yet, try as he might, the gray-haired Ranger could think of no possible alternative to their present course. The way south was barred by thousands of Temujai warriors and there was no chance that he could make it through their lines with the three young people. He and Will might manage it. But it was a big might. And he knew enough about the Temujai to know that with Horace and Evanlyn along, they would never avoid detection.

So, for the time being, at least, they had no choice but to head toward Hallasholm. In the back of his mind there was a partly formed idea that they might be able to steal a boat. Or even prevail upon Erak to transport them down the coast to the south, leapfrogging the line of advance of the Temujai army. Somehow, sometime, he would have to reach some kind of an accommodation with the Skandian jarl, he knew.

The opportunity came at the next rest stop. And it came from the jarl himself. As the Skandians allowed themselves to sprawl on the ground under the pines, Erak, seemingly casually, approached the spot where Halt was pouring water from his canteen into a collapsible canvas bucket for Abelard. The horse drank noisily as the wolfship commander stood by and watched. Fully aware of his presence, Halt continued with what he was doing.

Then, when the horse stopped drinking, he said, without looking up: "Something on your mind?"

The jarl shifted awkwardly from one foot to another.

"We need to talk," he said finally, and Halt shrugged.

"We seem to be doing that." He kept his voice neutral. He could sense that the Skandian leader wanted something from him and he felt this might be his opportunity to gain some kind of bargaining advantage.

Erak glanced around, making sure that none of his men was in earshot. He knew they wouldn't like the idea he was about to propose. But, all the same, he knew that the idea was a good one. And a necessary one.

"It was you, wasn't it, at the battle of the Thorntree?" he said at last. Halt turned to face him.

"I was there," he said. "And so were a couple of hundred others."

The Skandian made an impatient gesture. "Yes, yes," he said. "But you were the leader-the tactician-weren't you?"

Halt shrugged diffidently.

"That's right, I suppose," he said carefully. The battle at Thorntree forest had been a defeat for the Skandians. He wondered now if Erak might be looking for some kind of revenge over the man who had led the Araluen forces. It didn't seem in character with what he knew of the Skandian, but you never could tell.

Erak, however, was nodding thoughtfully to himself. He hunkered down in the snow, picking up a pine twig and making random marks on the ground with it.

"And you know these Temujai, don't you?" he said. "You know how they fight-how they organize their army?"

It was Halt's turn to nod. "I told you. I lived among them for a while."

"So:" Erak paused and Halt knew that he was reaching the crucial part of their conversation. "You'd know their strengths, and their weaknesses?"

The Ranger barked a short, humorless laugh. "There aren't many of those," he said, but Erak persisted, stabbing the twig deeper into the snow as he talked.

"But you'd know how to fight them? How to beat them?"

Now Halt began to have a glimmer of where this conversation was leading. And, with that, he felt a slight surge of hope. He might just be about to be handed the bargaining tool that he would need to protect Will and Evanlyn.

"We fight as individuals," the jarl said softly, seeming to talk almost to himself. "We aren't organized. We have no tactics. No master plan."

"You Skandians have won your share of battles," Halt pointed out mildly. Erak looked up at him and Halt could see how much the sea wolf disliked what he was about to say.

"In a straight confrontation. One on one. Or even against odds of two to one. A straightforward conflict with no complications. Just a simple trial of arms. That sort of thing we can handle. But this:this is different."

"The Temujai are probably the most efficient fighting force in the world," Halt told him. "With the possible exception of the Arridi in the southern deserts."

There was silence between them. Halt willed the Skandian to take that one last step that lay in front of him. He saw the intake of breath, then Erak said:

"You could show us how to beat them."

It was out in the open now-exactly what Halt had begun to hope for. Carefully, like a man playing a trout that was yet to be hooked, he answered, making sure no hint of the eagerness he felt showed in his voice.

"Even if I could, I doubt I'd be given that opportunity," he said, trying to sound as dismissive as possible. Erak's head jerked up, a little flare of anger in his eyes.

"I could give it to you," he said. Halt met the other man's gaze, refusing to be intimidated by the anger there.

"You're not the Oberjarl," he said flatly. Erak shook his head, acknowledging the statement.

"That's right," he said. "But I am a senior war leader. I carry a certain amount of weight in our War Council."

Halt appeared unconvinced. "Enough to convince the others to accept an outlander as leader?"

Erak shook his head decisively.

"Not as a leader," he said. "Skandians would never follow your direct orders. Nor any other foreigner's. But as a counselor-a tactician. There are others on the council who know we need tactics. Who will understand that we need to fight as a cohesive unit, not as a thousand individuals. Borsa, for one, will agree with me."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Borsa?" He knew some of the Skandian leaders' names. This one was unfamiliar.

"The hilfmann-Ragnak's chamberlain," Erak told him. "He's no warrior himself, but Ragnak respects his opinions, and his brain."

"Let me get this straight," Halt said slowly. "You're asking me to come aboard as a tactical adviser and help you find a way to beat the Temujai. And you think you can convince Ragnak to go along with the idea-and not simply kill me on the spot."

Erak looked a question at him. Halt continued.

"I know he has no love for Araluens. His son died at Thorntree, after all."

"You'd be under my protection," Erak said finally. "Ragnak would have to respect that, or fight me. And I don't think he'll be quite ready to do that. Whether I can convince the council or not-and I believe I will be able to-you'll be safe while you're in Hallasholm."

And there, all at once, was the opportunity Halt had been waiting for.

"What about my companions?" he asked. "Will and the girl are escaped slaves."

Erak waved the matter aside, dismissively. "That's a small matter compared to the fact that we're about to be invaded," he replied. "Your friends will be safe as well. You have my word."

"No matter what?" Halt insisted. He wanted the Skandian to commit totally. He knew that no jarl would ever go back on a sworn vow of protection.

"No matter what," Erak replied, and held out his hand to the Ranger. They clasped hands firmly, sealing the bargain.

"Now," said Halt, "all I have to do is work out a way of beating these horse-riding devils."

Erak grinned at him. "That should be child's play," he said. "The hard part will be convincing Ragnak about it."