The Siege of Macindaw

14

Will and Horace stayed several hundred meters behind the Scotti party as they followed them through the woods. Had he been alone, Will could have maintained much closer contact, but with Horace along, he felt it wiser to remain at a distance. The tall warrior wasn't clumsy by any means. In fact, as far as knights went, he was quite graceful.

But that meant nothing in comparison with a Ranger's ability to move silently through the forest. As he followed Will along the narrow track, Horace felt as coordinated as a one-legged bear.

"I don't know how you do it," he said at length. Will looked back at him, his eyebrows raised in inquiry, so that Horace felt compelled to elaborate. "How you Rangers move so quietly," he explained. Will frowned slightly, then moved back to his side.

"Well, for a start," he said in a low voice, "we Rangers don't blunder along, yelling out 'I don't know how you do it.' "

Horace was a little crestfallen. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Oh… right. Sorry."

Will shook his head and moved off again. Horace followed some five meters behind, watching where he placed his feet and stepping with exaggerated care. The thick carpet of snow on the track helped matters, he thought. And the falling snow would conceal them from sight. In fact, Will, in his black-and-white-mottled cloak, kept disappearing from Horace's view even at five meters' range.

Leading the way, Will gritted his teeth with every twig that snapped under Horace's feet. The warrior seemed to have exceptionally big feet, he thought. They certainly seemed to find a lot of twigs to snap. Still, he knew they were far enough behind the Scotti to make Horace's noise indiscernible as Will followed their tracks in the new snow. Fortunately, it wasn't falling fast enough to blanket them completely. They were obviously heading for Macindaw, as this track led to the castle and nowhere else. The woods they were in were relatively new growth, nothing like the thick, impenetrable tangles that marked Grimsdell Wood, which lay to the east. In Grimsdell, if you found a path to follow, it would be half the width of this relatively clear track. And it would twist and turn and wind upon itself like a demented serpent so that after a few minutes, you had no sense of where you were heading.

They were approaching the end of the trees now, and Will moved more slowly, motioning for Horace to remain where he was for a few minutes while Will scouted ahead.

As the trees thinned out, he could see the small party of Scotti warriors more clearly. They were still moving at that slow jog, crossing the open ground, where the gorse and bracken grew only knee high. They were almost up to the castle, whose main entrance was on the southern side. As he watched, the Scotti detoured toward the main entrance.

Even from this distance, Will could see the flurry of movement on the ramparts of the castle as the small party approached. But there were no sounds of alarm. No gongs, no shouts. The Scotti were obviously not regarded as a threat.

Turning, he trotted back through the forest to the spot where he had left Horace.

" They're going to Macindaw, all right," he said. "And they're expected. Let's go."

He led the way to the southeast, angling through the forest to the spot where it gradually merged into the thicker growth that was Grimsdell. There was no way he and Horace could move across open ground to follow the Scotti. They would have to stay under cover of the tree line. That meant covering two long sides of a triangle while the Scotti took the shorter, more direct route.

By the time they reached a point where they could keep the south wall in sight, the castle gates had opened, admitted the Scotti general and his men, and closed again.

The two friends lay belly down in the shadow of the trees, staring at the castle.

"What do you think they're up to?" Horace asked.

Will shrugged. "MacHaddish is a general, and generals usually command more than a handful of men. My guess is he has a larger force waiting across the border and he's making final arrangements with Keren to bring them south – discussing numbers of men, how much they're going to pay Keren. That sort of thing."

"So it's a raiding party?" Horace asked, and Will nodded thoughtfully.

"At least. Maybe something bigger. Whatever it is, I don't like the look of it."

Horace wriggled uncomfortably. Unlike Will, he could never lie unmoving in one place for long.

"We need to know what they're up to," he said.

Will smiled at him."I'm sure Malcolm will be able to find out for us when we capture our friend MacHaddish."

Horace nodded thoughtfully."We've got to manage that first," he pointed out.

"True. How many men did you count?" Will asked. He thought he knew himself but it never hurt to make sure. "Counting the general? Nine."

"That's what I thought. So I figure you, me and ten of the Skandians should be able to do the job."

Horace looked skeptical. "Twelve of us? Do we really need that many? After all, we'll be taking them by surprise."

"I know," Will told him. "But we want to take him alive, re member?"

" That's true. When d'you think we'll do it?"

Will shrugged. "I can't see them spending more than a day here. The castle guards were expecting them. I'd say they've been planning this for some time and now they're settling last-minute details. We'd better be in position before dark. Back at the spot where we camped."

"That's as good a place as any," Horace agreed. "So do you want me to go and collect Gundar and some of his men while you keep an eye on things here?"

Will rolled on his side to study him. " You're sure you can find your way back to Malcolm's clearing?" he asked, and Horace grinned at him.

"I think even clumsy old noisy me can manage it," he said. "Will we meet you here or back at our campsite?"

Will thought about it for a few seconds. On his own, he'd be able to ghost across the open ground once it was dark. That way, he could wait till he was sure the Scotti were on their way and still beat them to the ambush site.

" Take them to the campsite," he said. "Leave a lookout at the tree line to warn you when they're coming, just in case I miss them." For a moment, he was tempted to go into detail about how to set up the ambush itself, but he realized that Horace could organize that side of things as well as he could.

Horace clapped a hand on Will's shoulder and rose from the ground, taking care to keep in the shadows under the trees.

"We'll see you there," he said.

By midafternoon, even Will's patience was being tested. He was wishing he'd asked Horace to send someone back from the clearing to watch with him. At least then he'd be able to take a break and even sleep for an hour or so.

Strangely, after a while, simply lying in the tree line staring at the castle became immensely tiring. At one point, Will found himself on the verge of nodding off. He shook himself, took a few deep breaths and resumed his vigil. Within a few minutes, he felt his focus drifting and his chin dropping onto his chest again.

" This is no good," he said angrily. Rising to his feet, he began pacing back and forth. Staying active seemed to be a better way of staying awake. The snow had continued to fall intermittently throughout the day, and the countryside was draped under a thick cover by now. The light began to fade, and Will realized that it might be best if he headed back to the trees north of the castle. If the Scotti emerged now, there was a chance that Will might miss seeing them until it was too late.

Of course, he thought, he was only surmising that they would leave this evening. Perhaps Keren would entertain them at the castle with a banquet. They might well stay another day or two to rest before the journey home. But somehow he doubted it. He'd seen the Scotti general's face close-up, and he didn't look like the sort of man who would waste his time at banquets or relaxing.

He spent the usual few minutes preparing, observing the natural rhythms of the land around him – the movement of the falling snow, the way the gentle wind stirred the bushes and the treetops. Then, when he felt attuned to it all, he rose to a crouch and glided across the open ground in the uncertain light.

Seen from ten meters' distance, he seemed to fade into the background. From the castle walls, several hundred meters away, there was no chance that an observer would have noticed him.

Back at Healer's Clearing, as it was now generally known, Orman and Malcolm watched Horace lead the party of Skandians away into the trees. It was remarkable, Orman thought, how one so young could exert such effortless authority over the battle-hardened Skandians. Malcolm seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

"You're lucky to have those two on your side," he said, and Orman knew that he was referring to Will and Horace."They're very accomplished young men."

Orman nodded. "They make an excellent team, all right." Then he eyed the small healer with a sidelong glance. "It occurs to me that I've been lucky with all my new allies."

Malcolm shrugged diffidently. But Orman felt it was time he pursued the matter.

"After all," he said, "you owe me nothing. You chose years ago to seclude yourself in the forest here and cut yourself off from contact with the outside world." He sighed heavily. "I can't say I altogether blame you for that."

"I've been reasonably content, I suppose," Malcolm replied.

"And now you're risking all that," Orman said.

Malcolm pulled a wry face. "Am I?" The thought seemed to be occurring to him for the first time. "I suppose I am, really," he agreed.

"All your protective devices and illusions have been exposed as tricks."

"Were you planning on telling the world?" Malcolm asked with a little smile.

Orman shook his head. "Of course not. But once a secret is broken, it has a way of getting out. All your people here will be at risk again."

Malcolm's smile faded at that. "I know," he said at last. "I considered that, but really, what could I do? Will and your man Xander arrived here with you at death's door. What choice did I have?"

"You could have turned us away," Orman said, but Malcolm was shaking his head before he had finished the sentence.

"I'm a healer," he said simply. "I swore to dedicate my life to the art. If I turned you away, I'd be an oath breaker. You see?" he added, with a trace of the sad smile creeping back onto his face."You put me in an impossible position."

Orman nodded. He did realize the fact, which was why he had raised the matter with Malcolm.

"I understand that. But I want you to know, things will be different in the future. You'll be under the protection of Castle Macindaw."

Malcolm thought about that for a few seconds. "I appreciate the offer," he said. "But you won't mind if I remain in the forest? I've grown rather accustomed to things here. And I couldn't leave my people."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Orman told him. "I just want you to know that you won't need to hide here anymore. I'll give you all the protection you need. And any other practical help you could ask for."

The two men shook hands solemnly. Malcolm opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated.

"What is it?" Orman prompted.

"Well," the healer said reluctantly, "I hate to ask, but these Skandians are eating me out of house and home – and our two young men are going through my supplies of coffee beans like a plague of locusts."

Orman grinned.Tll take care of it," he said.Tll have Xander buy some supplies from Tumbledown Creek village. He can dip into my purse to pay for it. Mind you," he added, and the grin widened considerably, "it'll probably break his heart to do it."