gave him a sinister appearance in the dancing shadows of the firelight. ‘I judge you’ve killed or incapacitated three-quarters of the soldiers, Erik. How many men did you bring?’
Erik said, ‘Sixty.’
‘But I have three hundred!’ said the Baron, clearly disturbed. ‘With an auxiliary of Hadati warriors.’
Erik glanced about and said, ‘I don’t see any Hadati?’
From out of the dark came an accented voice. ‘As it should be.’
A group of men dressed in kilts and plaids entered the camp. They wore their hair tied up high atop their heads in a knot, with a long fall of it spilling down their backs. ‘We heard your men approaching,’ said the leader, looking at Erik, who wore an unmarked black tunic, and guessing at his rank, ‘Captain?’
‘Sergeant,’ corrected Erik.
‘Sergeant,’ amended the spokesman, a tall warrior who wore only a simple sleeveless tunic above his kilt. His plaid would provide warmth in the mountains if unrolled and worn around his shoulders. Below night-black hair, his features were even, nothing out of the ordinary, save for dark eyes that reminded Erik of a bird of prey’s. In the campfire light, his sun-darkened skin was almost red. Erik didn’t need to see the man draw the long blade he wore on his back to know him for a seasoned fighter.
‘You heard us?’ asked Erik.
‘Yes. Your men are good, Sergeant, but we Hadati live in the mountains – often sleeping on the ground near our herds – and we know when we’re hearing a group of men approach.’
‘What’s your name?’ asked Erik.
‘Akee, son of Bandur.’
Erik nodded. ‘We need to talk.’
The Baron said, ‘I protest, Captain!’
Greylock said, ‘What, my lord?’
‘I protest this unannounced action. We were told to play the role of invaders and expect resistance by local militia and special units from Krondor at the town of Eggly. Nothing was said of a night attack. Had we known, we would have prepared for such!’ he repeated.
Erik glanced at Owen, who signaled that Erik should form up his company and depart while the Prince’s Knight-Captain soothed the ruffled feelings of the Baron of Tyr-Sog. Erik motioned Akee to his side and said, ‘Have your men gather their kits and find my corporal. He’s a nasty-looking thug named Alfred. Tell him you’ll be coming with us to Krondor in the morning.’
‘Will the Baron approve?’ asked Akee.
‘Probably not,’ answered Erik, turning away. ‘But he doesn’t have much to say about it. I’m the Prince of Krondor’s man.’
The Hadati hillman shrugged and motioned to his companions. ‘Let those men free.’
‘Free?’ asked Erik.
Akee smiled. ‘We captured a few of those you sent to the south, Sergeant. I believe your ugly thug may be among them.’
Erik let fatigue and the pressure of the night’s exercise get the better of his usually calm nature. Swearing softly, he said, ‘If he is, he’ll regret it.’
Akee shrugged, turning to his companions and saying, ‘Let’s go see.’
Erik addressed another of his company, a soldier named Shane. ‘Get the men formed up at the south end of the camp.’
Shane nodded and started shouting orders.
Erik followed the Hadati to a point outside the perimeter of the Baron’s camp and found a pair of Hadati sitting next to Corporal Alfred and a half-dozen of Erik’s best men.
‘What happened?’ Erik asked.
Alfred sighed as he stood. ‘They’re good, Sergeant.’ He pointed to a ridge above them. ‘They must have moved the second they heard us coming, ’cause we were up there on that ridge, and I would have wagered everything I own it wasn’t possible they could have come up out of that camp, crossed the ridge, lay low, then come up behind us as we headed down.’ He shook his head. ‘We were being tapped on the shoulder before we heard them.’
Erik turned to Akee. ‘You’ll have to tell me how you did that.’
Akee shrugged, saying nothing.
To Alfred, Erik said, ‘These hillmen are coming with us. Take them down to the camp and let’s get back to Krondor.’
Alfred smiled, forgetting the tongue-lashing he was likely to receive from Erik when they were back at the garrison. ‘A hot meal,’ he said.
Erik was forced to agree it would be welcome. They had been out on maneuvers for a week, eating cold rations in the dark, and his men were tired and hungry. ‘Get moving’ was all he said.
Standing in the dark, Erik considered what was at stake in the impending war, and wondered if a hundred such exercises would prepare the men of the Kingdom for what was to come.
Tossing aside such concern, he conceded that probably nothing would prepare them fully, but what other choice did he have? He considered that Calis, Prince Patrick, Knight-Marshal William, and other commanders were operating throughout these mountains, conducting such exercises this week; at the end of the week a council would be held to tally what needed to be done.
Erik said to himself, ‘Everything, everything needs to be done,’ and he realized his black mood was due more to fatigue and hunger than to Alfred’s failing to avoid the Hadati ambush. Then he smiled. If the hillmen from northern Yabon had gotten up over that ridge that fast, it was a good thing they were going to be on the Kingdom’s side, and even better, thought Erik, under his command.
He turned toward the camp and decided he’d better join Greylock in mollifying the distressed Baron of Tyr-Sog.
The soldiers stood to attention as the courtyard resounded with the echo of their boot heels striking cobbles as one, and each man stood motionless while the Prince of Krondor made his appearance on the dais.
Roo looked at his friend Erik and said, ‘Nicely done.’
Erik shook his head, indicating that Roo should keep silent. Roo grinned but stayed quiet while Prince Patrick, ruler of Krondor, accepted a salute from the assembled garrison of the palace. Next to Erik stood Calis, Captain of the Prince’s special guards known as the Crimson Eagles.
Erik shifted his weight slightly, uncomfortable with the attention being drawn to him and the others. The survivors of the most recent expedition to the distant land of Novindus were being presented with awards for bravery, and Erik wasn’t sure what that entailed, but he knew he would prefer being back about his usual duties.
He had returned from the exercises in the mountains expecting a quick council, but Calis had informed Erik and the others that with Prince Erland’s return from a visit to his brother King Borric, a ceremony was scheduled and awards would be conferred, but beyond that, Erik knew little. He glanced sideways and saw his Captain, Calis, also looking impatient to see the fuss over with. Renaldo, one of the other survivors, turned to look at Micha. Both
