wagon and handed Antyr the reins, then he watched with quiet approval as Antyr carefully adjusted his sword before he mounted.
Tarrian and Grayle jumped down also and, weaving nimbly through the infantry, disappeared at speed into the fields.
Kany's stern, and very loud, injunction followed them. ‘No rabbits!'
The ‘or else!’ implicit in the tone made even Antyr quail.
It took the two men some time to reach the head of the long, marching column, and when they did, there was little of Estaan's appreciation of the day to be found.
The interior of the large wagon that the Duke was using as his march headquarters contrasted starkly with the surroundings in which Antyr had previously seen him. Its lines were simple and functional and it was undecorated and contained nothing, as far as Antyr could see, that was not absolutely necessary.
Antyr took in the whole ambience of the place instantly as he and Estaan were ushered in by a guard. Yet he belongs here just as he belongs in one of his lavish staterooms, he thought, as he saw the Duke sitting at a small, robust table. He was facing the door.
Looking up, the Duke nodded an acknowledgement, as did Menedrion and Ciarll Feranc who were sitting at the sides of the table.
A slight frown crossed Ibris's face and he gestured to the guard who had admitted Antyr and Estaan.
'Arrange for Antyr's wagon to be brought to join the advance train here. It's too far away,’ he said. ‘Attend to it immediately, please.
'I want to keep you up to date with everything that's happening,’ he said to Antyr, as the officer left. ‘I don't know how you ended up in the baggage train, but…’ He shrugged dismissively and picked up a paper from the table.
'We've had word from Arwain,’ he went on. ‘When he arrived at Whendrak he found two full Bethlarii divisions surrounding the city and more troops arriving. To delay them from moving down the valley, he launched an attack last night which inflicted quite heavy casualties on the enemy, and he's now taking up a defensive position in anticipation of their response.'
A battalion against two divisions! Antyr thought. He could not read the Duke's impassive face, but either Arwain had taken leave of his senses or the situation at Whendrak was truly desperate. A scuffling outside the door interrupted his conjecture.
Antyr's head suddenly filled with characteristic abuse, then there was a loud bark and the door was banged open noisily.
'Sorry. He didn't seem to know who we were,’ Tarrian said to everyone as he dropped down on to all fours. He and Grayle padded noisily across the wooden floor. An indignant and flustered guard appeared in the open doorway.
Impassive at the heroism or folly of his son, Ibris allowed his irritation to show at this trivial incident. ‘He didn't,’ he said crossly. ‘It's just another administrative oversight.'
He waved to the guard. ‘It's all right,’ he said. ‘These animals are quite tame, they're to be allowed to roam where they please.'
'Tame!’ Tarrian's indignation, however, was for the Duke and Antyr only.
Ibris ignored the protest and continued. ‘See that that is clearly understood by everyone. Interfering with them will be a disciplinary offence.'
The guard saluted nervously and left.
Ibris levelled two fingers at the two wolves. ‘That is not carte blanche for you to raid every kitchen tent in the column,’ he said sternly. ‘I shall regard that as looting. Is that clear?'
'Yes,’ came a rather sulky reply after a short pause.
Ibris nodded, and the sternness fell away from him. ‘Keep away from the men,’ he said. ‘There's endless scope for misunderstandings and accidents in these circumstance and I don't want either of you injured.'
Antyr gave Tarrian a sharp, private command to stay silent, and Ibris returned to his message from Arwain.
'As a result of his action we're sending two divisions up at speed, to meet with one from Stor.’ He looked at Antyr, who was wondering what relevance all this activity was to him. ‘They'll be under the command of Menedrion, and I'd like you to go with him. Pandra can stay here and keep an eye on me.'
The relevance explained, Antyr's stomach sank; he had no desire to be rushing towards a battlefield behind Menedrion's banner. He'd done his part when it was needed, he shouldn't be asked to do it again. It was too much.
But other thoughts came through the fear. Despite the seeming quiet of the past few nights, the Duke's eldest son still needed to be protected. And with Arwain, Menedrion and the Bethlarii in close proximity, who could tell how vulnerable this would make them to the Mynedarion and his guide? Antyr felt again the weight of his own ignorance about these unseen assailants.
However, Pandra couldn't do it. Not the journey, nor, in all probability, any defence of the dreamers against a serious assault.
Somewhere he felt choices falling away from him; felt his feet being drawn down a path determined by others.
But to where? Into what darkness?
'Tarrian? Grayle?’ he reached out to them silently.
For a brief instant he was surrounded by sensations and a deep, ancient knowing, that were at once profoundly familiar and utterly alien to him. And they were sharp and intense.
I am wolf, a fading, distant part of his mind thought before it vanished.
All around was fear and reluctance; and a terrible longing to return to a place far away. A place of endless freedom and light, of great beauty, where a great harmony prevailed.
And, too, the place of his birth, the place of the song, of the …
He was himself again.
'We have some measure of your burden as you have of ours, Antyr,’ Tarrian said, his voice subdued, shocked even. ‘We'll stay with you to the end, or until our strength fails us.'
Antyr looked at the Duke. ‘We'll do whatever you wish, sire,’ he said.
Chapter 34
Efnir was a small hamlet of perhaps twenty families situated in the shadow of the mountains that marked the far northern edge of Bethlarii territory. It was an isolated, self-sufficient community, far from the mainstream of Bethlarii life, but its people were of a traditional, old-fashioned disposition, and it was a matter of some pride to them that when the Hanestra called on men for the army, Efnir would always play its full part, and would not stint on its duty.
Thus it stood now empty of men, other than the very young and the very old.
Not that this greatly affected daily life. The departure of the men was not particularly welcomed, but it was not uncommon in any Bethlarii community, ‘The army must be kept in good order', and life was arranged accordingly.
Now, more than ever, any distress at the leaving of the men was thoroughly hidden beneath stern, determined faces, for this time it was no training exercise that the men had gone to, it was war. This time, sons and husbands had been sent off by their proud mothers and wives with an embrace and the time-honoured edict, ‘Return with your shield, or on it.'
'The Serens have assailed our people in Whendrak, in breach of the treaty, and the city is to be returned at last to its true allegiance.'
There had been some slight, extremely polite, questioning … requests for clarification … of the priestly acolyte who had brought the news, but, as was fitting, he had not been pressed, and, as had become the way these days, he had confined many of his answers to, ‘It is the will of Ar-Hyrdyn.'
Despite this divine reassurance, there had been some unease … suspicion? … among the men that all was
