told, was the first step to conquering him. Or bringing him to the peace table.
They were all around him now. Guarding his own back was hopeless. And it would not be long till someone thought of using a bow.
A scream ripped from among the Ventimiglian mounts. A dozen horses stampeded. As many cursing soldiers pursued them. Gathrid remained facing three wary foes. They would not venture within Daubendiek's reach.
Where was Rogala?
The animals that had not spooked began rearing and screaming. Rogala burst from the herd astride one, reins in his mouth. He clutched a weapon in one hand, led a second mount with the other. He ploughed into Gathrid's opponents.
The youth attacked while they dodged the dwarf. Only one man escaped.
Rogala told him to mount up.
"No saddle."
"I'm sorry, Your Lordship. I had Hell's own time just getting the bridles on."
That was as near a reference to his own height that Gathrid had heard from the man.
"Come on, boy. They won't wait all night."
Gathrid jumped, got his belly over the horse's back. Several Ventimiglians came charging out of the darkness. Some had recovered mounts. Rogala whooped and took off. Gathrid clung for his life, almost losing the Sword.
The Ventimiglians cursed and howled. A javelin plunged past Gathrid's nose. It electrified him. He dragged himself astride the animal.
Wars and adventures, seen from the inside, were no fun at all.
Chapter Five
Round Katich The region round Gudermuth's capital had been torched and scourged. Even the birds, animals and insects were dead or flown. Rubble and ashes were the lone monuments to ages of handiwork by Nature and Man.
Katich's old gray walls and towers, smoke-stained, rose in unbroken defiance amidst the encircling Venti-miglian host. Royal banners trailed proudly in the smoky wind. And that explained the desolation. The Mindak was a bitter enemy.
Rogala was impressed. "No half-measures for your Mindak. There isn't a cockroach alive out there."
"The Brotherhood must have sent help. Otherwise the city would have fallen. I guess they're buying time for the Alliance." He was puzzled, though. With Nieroda and the Toal to back him, Ahlert should have smashed any Brotherhood deputation long since. And where were the allies? Something should have been seen of them by now.
Siegework was in progress. The Ventimiglians were pushing trenches toward the walls. No doubt they were mining, too. The operation showed more patience than was customary with the easterners.
"Don't look like much magic from here," Rogala said.
"Maybe they're all out hunting for us." Shuddering, Gathrid looked around. He saw nothing but wasteland and a few Ventimiglians on the east road, shepherding their army's supply trains.
"This Ahlert isn't much of a general," Rogala observed. "When your army is going to be rooted, you don't waste the countryside around it."
"He probably didn't plan to stay long. He's not used to resistance."
"This was done for spite, boy. Pure spite."
Rogala had been garrulous since they had stolen the horses, though he only talked about geography and politics. He still ignored Gathrid's questions.
Perforce, Gathrid had done a lot of thinking about himself, his future, Daubendiek, Rogala and this war. The Sword could be invaluable to the Alliance.
He did not want to be the man wielding it.
Rogala was adamant in refusing to answer questions about Tureck Aarant and the Brothers' War. He did, grudgingly, admit mat Aarant had been one of several previous Swordbearers. "Suchara chooses," he said. "We mortals can but obey. There are greater plans, higher destinies. Some of us have to sacrifice our homes, happiness, lives and even our souls to them." He looked first sad, then rebellious. Then he shrugged. "When the Powers lay their hands on us, we can but obey and hope."
"You've seen it," Gathrid said of Katich. "Now what?"
"There's a war on. We're on the side of the people inside there. We'll try to help them."
"Two men?" Gathrid had
They were all around him now. Guarding his own back was hopeless. And it would not be long till someone thought of using a bow.
A scream ripped from among the Ventimiglian mounts. A dozen horses stampeded. As many cursing soldiers pursued them. Gathrid remained facing three wary foes. They would not venture within Daubendiek's reach.
Where was Rogala?
The animals that had not spooked began rearing and screaming. Rogala burst from the herd astride one, reins in his mouth. He clutched a weapon in one hand, led a second mount with the other. He ploughed into Gathrid's opponents.
The youth attacked while they dodged the dwarf. Only one man escaped.
Rogala told him to mount up.
"No saddle."
"I'm sorry, Your Lordship. I had Hell's own time just getting the bridles on."
That was as near a reference to his own height that Gathrid had heard from the man.
"Come on, boy. They won't wait all night."
Gathrid jumped, got his belly over the horse's back. Several Ventimiglians came charging out of the darkness. Some had recovered mounts. Rogala whooped and took off. Gathrid clung for his life, almost losing the Sword.
The Ventimiglians cursed and howled. A javelin plunged past Gathrid's nose. It electrified him. He dragged himself astride the animal.
Wars and adventures, seen from the inside, were no fun at all.
Chapter Five
Round Katich The region round Gudermuth's capital had been torched and scourged. Even the birds, animals and insects were dead or flown. Rubble and ashes were the lone monuments to ages of handiwork by Nature and Man.
Katich's old gray walls and towers, smoke-stained, rose in unbroken defiance amidst the encircling Venti-miglian host. Royal banners trailed proudly in the smoky wind. And that explained the desolation. The Mindak was a bitter enemy.
Rogala was impressed. "No half-measures for your Mindak. There isn't a cockroach alive out there."
"The Brotherhood must have sent help. Otherwise the city would have fallen. I guess they're buying time for the Alliance." He was puzzled, though. With Nieroda and the Toal to back him, Ahlert should have smashed any Brotherhood deputation long since. And where were the allies? Something should have been seen of them by now.
Siegework was in progress. The Ventimiglians were pushing trenches toward the walls. No doubt they were mining, too. The operation showed more patience than was customary with the easterners.
"Don't look like much magic from here," Rogala said.
"Maybe they're all out hunting for us." Shuddering, Gathrid looked around. He saw nothing but wasteland and a few Ventimiglians on the east road, shepherding their army's supply trains.
"This Ahlert isn't much of a general," Rogala observed. "When your army is going to be rooted, you don't waste the countryside around it."
"He probably didn't plan to stay long. He's not used to resistance."
"This was done for spite, boy. Pure spite."
Rogala had been garrulous since they had stolen the horses, though he only talked about geography and politics. He still ignored Gathrid's questions.
Perforce, Gathrid had done a lot of thinking about himself, his future, Daubendiek, Rogala and this war. The Sword could be invaluable to the Alliance.
He did not want to be the man wielding it.
Rogala was adamant in refusing to answer questions about Tureck Aarant and the Brothers' War. He did, grudgingly, admit mat Aarant had been one of several previous Swordbearers. "Suchara chooses," he said. "We mortals can but obey. There are greater plans, higher destinies. Some of us have to sacrifice our homes, happiness, lives and even our souls to them." He looked first sad, then rebellious. Then he shrugged. "When the Powers lay their hands on us, we can but obey and hope."
"You've seen it," Gathrid said of Katich. "Now what?"
"There's a war on. We're on the side of the people inside there. We'll try to help them."
"Two men?" Gathrid had
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