Ciara's Song Page 7

  He opened the door. Hanion burst in already speaking. “Lord, there’s men at arms at the gates. They tried to enter but we had the gates shut in time. They say they are from Lord Geavon but we recognize none of them and they are heavily armed. They demand entrance.”

  Tarnoor followed Hanion to the gates. There he looked down at those below. Men at arms? No, more like a small army. He counted more than a hundred men along with a dozen wains. They had set a half circle about the gates just over an arrow’s flight back. This was no message from Geavon. He leaned far out to search for any known face. An arrow sliced the collar of his cloak as he shied sideways.

  He swore again. He seemed to have done a lot of that since Yvian’s death, he thought. Then he descended to the gates.

  “Unfriend, come forward and tell me what you wish.”

  From the other side a voice called, “Open the gates and yield to Clan Grothar.”

  “If I choose not to?”

  “Then we remain here. Nothing goes in or out save it be one to offer surrender.”

  “Stay then and be damned to you,” Tarnoor bawled back. He marched up the wall steps again to look between the crenellations. Aiskeep was under siege. The war had arrived in the South at last.

  5

  C iara and Trovagh were bored. Outside the enemy had been camped at Aiskeep gates for a month. Nothing more happened. The soldiers sat there, firing an arrow now and then at anyone they saw on the Keep walls. Sometimes one of the Keep men at arms shot back. It had been quite exciting that first week where there was a lot of that going on. But the men outside had moved back a few more yards. They stopped bothering to shoot. Now they just sat. They didn’t even bother to reply to the colorful insults Aiskeep men hurled at them. After a long consideration of his maps, Tarnoor had identified the probable reason for the siege.

  “Look, here’s where their land runs. This land belongs to Septan, who’s just wed into the clan. His land reaches almost to Aiskeep. Clan Grothar has a very old dispute with our clan.” He snorted. “The idiots have decided to take advantage of the general unrest to see if they can add to their boundaries.”

  “Why is that so stupid, Uncle Nethyn?” Ciara was puzzled.

  “Because, my dear, as any effective soldier knows, before you begin a fight, you should know what shape your enemy is in.”

  Both children stared, then understood. “Oh,” said Trovagh. “All the stores we’ve been getting in.”

  “The walls are all fixed, too,” Ciara added.

  “Exactly. We’ve spent the last couple of years expecting this. The walls are just about the strongest they’ve ever been. We have enough supplies in the lower storerooms to last a year or more even without our own harvest, and we have a water supply. The armory is filled with arrow bundles, bar steel, and anything else we may need. So this pack of fools pick now to start something.” He snorted again. “I never did think Ager had any sense. He heads the clan because he has seven idiot sons who all back him. That’s why. Not that even they’ll continue if he does much of this.”

  The sons—or Ager—must have come to a similar conclusion. The siege remained in camp ineffectively another couple of months. Then one morning they were gone again leaving only an awful mess and an incredible stench behind them. Tarnoor promptly sent out scouts, Hanion leading them. They returned to say that Clan Grothar had far worse troubles of their own.

  Hanion was grinning. “They have their own siege now, my lord. It seems the boy who wed into them isn’t so happy with his bargain. His own clan seems to have taken up his quarrel. Do we head for Teral while our gates are clear?”

  “We do indeed.”

  Tarnoor split his forces. Some thirty armed men escorted the lumbering wains toward the small market town, while another thirty men remained to guard Aiskeep. Most of those remaining were the older or young and inexperienced. Some were simply garthsmen who wished to help their lord. Between the two groups messengers rode. That way, Tarnoor mused, if anything happened at either end he should know within hours. Nothing did. The wains returned heavily loaded, the last of the Keep’s fall harvest was gathered into the storerooms, and winter was on its way.

  Ciara and Trovagh had sneaked away. When the girl first arrived she had begged to learn the sword with her friend. Hanion agreed if his master had no objections. Tarnoor had merely laughed.

  “Let the little maid learn,” he’d said kindly. “It will help to take her mind from her grief.” He’d then dug into the storeroom to find a light sword that might be used. In the four years since, the children had gained knowledge of both sword and bow. Ciara had proved to have a very real talent for the latter. She could not pull one of the heavier ones, but with a light bow she could place her arrows with a neat precision.

  Trovagh was a swordsman. He would never be of more than middle height, but that height was already springy with lithe muscle. His reflexes were excellent, his sight keen, and he’d learned of Hanion all the tricks that shrewd old campaigner could teach. He still developed dangerous colds during the winters, but Ciara was there to help with those. At fourteen he bade fair to equal his father in common sense and leadership.

  Beside him Ciara stood, their old comradeship as strong as ever. She could beat him in a sprint although his endurance was the greater. If he was the better swordsman she could outshoot him. They knew each other’s minds, each often finishing a sentence for the other.

  Tarnoor and Elanor, studying them, were happy with what they had wrought. The children knew Aiskeep from the highest tower to the lowest storeroom. They knew every inch of the lands and the mountains that backed them. Both rode like centaurs. Not that there weren’t flaws. Only the previous week, Elanor had found a large and indignant toad in her bed. She’d climbed into the bedding, thrust her feet down to the wrapped stone, and instead of the expected warmth, encountered something cold, damp, and alive. She’d screeched, shot out of bed, lost her balance, and landed sitting on her rump in the middle of the bedroom in a way both bruising to dignity and posterior.

  She knew why the toad was there, of course. She’d made Ciara stay inside that morning instead of allowing the child to ride. Elanor had received a very thoughtful look. But one day the girl would be Keep Lady. She must learn everything possible now. Elanor rubbed her rump and smiled unpleasantly. Two could play at that game. She said nothing in the morning—but Ciara sitting down to her porridge found it to be heavily salted.

  “I trust you’ll eat all your breakfast,” Elanor told her with a heavy significance. “If you do I’ll find myself silent.” Ciara ate glumly. Trovagh pulled the bowl between them and ate his half. Elanor understood. He’d helped with the toad and would share the punishment. She cleared away the emptied bowl and true to her word, said nothing of toads to Tarnoor.

  Neither child had ever been beaten. After losing her family the way she had, an angry word left Ciara heartbroken, convinced of rejection. Once, in earlier days, Tarnoor had rounded angrily on her for a piece of dangerous mischief. He had found himself holding a child who wept more and more frantically. Her sobs shifted to gasps for breath, then she fainted. She became conscious only to return to the gasping and then loss of consciousness once more. She’d been put to bed and been miserably silent for a day until Tarnoor had convinced her she was not utterly unloved.

  But during their next exploit, Tarnoor would savagely desire to beat both of them bloody. All had been quiet for weeks. Even a recent letter from Geavon had reported fighting to have temporarily died down in Kars. Winter was closing in, and the children decided a last ride into the mountains would be fun before the snows deepened.

  “Take your bow, we may see something.”

  Ciara nodded. “You better take your sword, too. Uncle Nethyn says not to take chances even on our own land.”

  Trovagh laughed, “All right,” he teased. “But what do you think is out there, outlaws or wolves?”

  It was true neither were that likely. So early in winter the wolf packs had not yet b
egun to form. It would not be until several months later that they could become dangerously hungry. As for outlaws, most of those were to be found far more to the north where clan fights had often dispossessed garth families of their homes and land. Aiskeep was not only the Keep, but also the land beyond. The great stone Keep itself held dominance over the entrance to a long steep-sided fertile valley that cut well into the mountains behind, winding almost twenty miles as it gradually rose toward the steeper heights. Because of this position the Keep controlled the valley. The original Tarnoor had seen the advantages at a glance as Karsten expanded south several hundred years earlier. He’d spent everything he had in raising the Keep and walling it in thick solid walls.

  This had paid off. He held the land alone for many years, the only lord able to keep his estate free of wolves and human attack. Over the years, those who enjoyed a frontier rallied to him, but they also preferred strong walls between them and danger. Since then garths had risen outside Aiskeep. They were often independent but the trade was useful. Nowadays most of the land about was settled, but with Yvian’s death, the usual peace had been permanently changed. The constant clan squabbling of the past four years had left many men with no trade but banditry. But right now neither child had any thought of that.

  With a yelp Trovagh sent his horse racing up the valley, Ciara following hard at his heels. On the side of each saddle bounced a filled bag. They planned a trip that would take them to the valley end. It wouldn’t do to go hungry. They rode beyond the valley, then the horses leaned into the mountain trail. Farther up and well to the northeast there was a small sheltered cup of land. There was a cave there, and a rock basin usually filled with good water. They would eat, rest their mounts, and then hunt.

  It was fortunate that they were walking their horses in silence. They approached the cave only to hear voices. Trovagh signaled Ciara to back her mount. Cautiously he joined her further back and dismounted.

  “Who do you think that is, Tro?”

  “I don’t know. But I know a few other things. They’re trespassing, and they aren’t our people. And before you ask, I was closer. That accent isn’t from here. It’s more to the west over by the coast.”

  “Oh. So what do we do, ride back and tell Uncle?”

  “Tell him what. That we heard a foreign accent in the mountains?”

  Ciara grinned at him. “No, we tell him how many there were, what they looked like, and what they were doing here.”

  Trovagh grinned back in relief. Good old Cee. He’d known she’d want to find out about this bunch as much as he did.

  “Right. We leave the horses off the trail over there. If we cross the trail and go up the side there,” his finger indicated, “we should be right over the cave. With luck we can hear everything they say. We can even look through the bushes at them if we’re careful.” He had a brief moment of doubt about this. But Cee was nodding.

  “It’s sunhigh. If they’re still here it probably means they’re staying the night. We can find out about them, then ride back to tell Uncle. He can come back with Hanion in the morning.”

  Trovagh quashed his doubts. This was for Aiskeep, to help protect their people from outlaws. Not that in his heart he believed the voices belonged to wolfsheads. Probably some messengers trying to be unobtrusive at a lord’s orders. For all that he and Ciara were careful. With their mounts safely tucked away in the lawleaf thicket, the two children drifted quietly up the hillside.

  Below them the cave echoed voices. A fire burned in the mouth. Trovagh looked down at that with interest. Hanion had told him often how to build a smokeless fire for enemy country. Down below was a perfect example of this. It certainly indicated a wish on the part of those below to remain unnoticed. A sideways glance at Cee showed him that this had not escaped her. They lay forward comfortably and prepared to listen.

  A rough voice floated up to them as the speaker emerged from the cave. “ ’n I say that we go west again. There ain’t nothing in these mountains.”

  “There’s as much loot as you’ll ever see, you fool.”

  “I seen nothing yet.”

  “So shut yer mouth an’ listen. Down there’s a Keep, see. Only the Keep’s right at the other end of the valley. Take a day for word of us to get there, an’ even then the lord won’t care if too many of his cattle don’t get killed.”

  A younger voice cut in. “Cattle? You said there’s gonna be loot ’n’ women!”

  There was the sound of an oath, a blow, and a smothered yelp. “Shut yer mouth when those older’s talking. People down there is just cattle to ’is lordship. That’s what I mean. We hit a couple of the families down this end. It takes another day for the Keep to hear, and by the time they come—if they bother—we’re long gone with whatever we wants. See?”

  “So when ’er we go down?”

  “Dusk. They’ll all be sitting down to ’er nice meal. All unsuspecting like. With it dusk, no one else’ll see nothing. We kill them all and take what we want. Then maybe another house or two before it’s daylight. If there’s any good-looking females we tie them up until we’re done looting. When we clear out, they come with us. If they can’t keep up, we dump ’em.” He laughed viciously, “Even females don’t chatter with their throats cut.”

  The younger voice chimed in describing what he planned to do with any women taken. Trovagh blushed violently, then felt sick. He hadn’t thought of war being like that. If these men found him and Cee . . . the blood drained abruptly from his face. He was hearing what would happen to her in every word from that filth down in the cave. They’d have no mercy because she was gentle and loving. No mercy that she was only thirteen, and Trovagh had brought her here. He reached out to take her hand in reassurance. He looked at her then and blinked in surprise. Cee looked furious. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so angry. He wriggled back pulling her with him. At a safe distance she rounded on him and he understood.

  “That’s our people they’re talking about. The nearest houses are Jontar’s and Mashin’s and Anrud’s. The bandits are going to kill them all. We have to stop them.”

  Put that way Trovagh agreed. “We won’t have time to get back to the Keep and send help before dark.”

  “No,” Cee said shrewdly. “But we could get Jontar’s daughter to take a message on one of the horses.”

  Trovagh nodded slowly. It was likely to infuriate his father, but he’d see they’d had no choice. It was the duty of a lord to protect his people. But Ciara could ride for help. Not that he had much faith in her seeing that. He was right.

  “I’m a healer,” he was told flatly. “I may be needed.”

  The boy shrugged. He’d done his best short of tying her to a horse and running it off down the valley. Knowing her, she’d persuade it to run the other way anyhow.

  “We need to know how many of them there are. We don’t want to risk us both getting caught, either. You go back to the horses, mount up, and be ready. If I get caught, it’ll be up to you.”

  That made sense to Ciara. She slipped silently down the hillside to where the horses waited patiently. Above the cave Trovagh listened, trying to count voices. There were three he was certain were different. But they couldn’t be planning to attack a whole family with only three men. Many garth families had half a dozen men or more. Jontar’s certainly did. There was Jontar’s father, Jontar, two sons, and three married daughters. There were also an uncle, and a cousin. Some of the women would fight as savagely for their homes and families as any man.

  Taking them by surprise over a meal would even the odds somewhat. But it was still likely there were more than the three men he could hear. He listened, then squirmed farther down the slope. If he could look partway into the cave he might see something to help. He did. Near the fire there was a heap of saddles and horse gear. He could count at least a dozen saddles. The conviction came over him that it was time he and Cee departed. Some of those men the gear belonged to must be around. He’d much rather they didn’t find either of t
hem, Cee in particular. He reached the horses without incident.

  “Well, did you find out anything?”

  “Yes, there’s at least a dozen saddles stacked to one side of the fire. I guess they have the horses along a bit further. Maybe the rest of the men are there with them.”

  “Or maybe they’re hunting.”

  That sounded likely. “Yes, well, we have to get out of here and warn everyone.” He started his mount moving down the trail. They traveled at a fast walk. Trovagh didn’t want to warn the outlaws. In these hills the sound of galloping hooves carried. It was midafternoon when they reached the nearest houses. Trovagh took charge at once.

  “Jontar, we need Ami to take an urgent message to my father.” It was fortunate that the girl was a good rider, Trovagh thought. She’d worked in the Keep stables the last two years. She was familiar with their horses and could ride fast. He gave her the message, making her repeat it twice. By now the whole family was there listening, eyes wide. Ami booted her mount off down the valley racing the light. She would arrive by dark.

  Now if they could just keep the outlaws at bay until his father arrived. It dawned on him then that there were methods other than a passive defense. He gabbled quickly to Cee—thanks to all the Powers that she was with him. She knew his mind without long time-wasting explanations. After that there was a subdued bustle. One of the boys vanished on Cee’s horse to keep watch on the trail. There was a place where he could see far up the hill. But if he kept the lawleaf thickets between him and the approaching riders, he could make it back to the houses without being seen in turn.

  Others of Jontar’s family had fanned out across the valley rousing the nearest garth families. They gathered in a steady trickle as the news spread. Trovagh gazed at them proudly. His first command. Those outlaws had underestimated the spirit of his people. He said so in plain words, the boyish pride showing through. Then he gave orders. They were obeyed. Some of the older men had fought bandits before; the lad’s ideas made sense. They said so in quiet mutters as confidence spread. Cee had vanished to arrange her own side of the work. Women surrounded her listening closely.