Arutha and Guy both pointed, and the elf said, “Renegades. A half dozen. The louts are taking their ease about a campfire. You’d think it was a picnic”
“Any signs of others?” asked Guy.
“Nothing. I saw some movement farther to the west, but I think we’ve moved behind Murmandamus’s lines. If those lazing about the fire are any indication, things are pretty calm hereabouts.”
Guy gestured with his thumb across his throat. Arutha nodded. Amos pulled a belt knife and motioned for the boys to circle the camp. In a crouch they all moved along, until Jimmy signalled and he and Locklear climbed up above the trail. The two squires moved quickly and silently, while Arutha, Amos, Galain, and Guy waited. They heard a startled shout and dashed forward.
The two squires had jumped a guard at the far end of the small camp, and the five other men had their backs turned. Three died without knowing someone was coming behind them, and the other two quickly followed. Guy glanced about. “Take their cloaks. If we’re questioned, we’ll likely be found out, but if we keep to the ridges, perhaps their sentries will think us only another band out looking for stragglers.”
The boys put cloaks of blue over their Armengarian brown leather. Arutha kept his own cloak of blue, while Amos donned one of green. Guy retained his black one. To a man the Armengarians wore brown, so the colours might disguise the fugitives for a while. Arutha tossed a grey cloak to Galain and said, “Here, try to look like a Dark Brother.”
Dryly the elf said, “Arutha, you do not know what a test of friendship that remark is. I must have Martin explain such things to you.”
Arutha said, “Gladly, if it’s back home over wine in the company of our families.”
The bodies were rolled down into a gully. Jimmy leaped atop the ridge above the camp and climbed up another ridge above that, standing so that he might get some sense of where they were. “Damn!” he swore as he jumped back down.
Arutha said, “What?”
“A patrol, about a half-mile back along the trail. It’s not in any hurry, but it’s coming this way. Thirty or more riders.”
Guy said, “We leave now,” and they mounted the renegades’ horses.
As they moved out, Arutha said, “Galain, I’ve not had a moment to ask of the others who travelled with Martin.” He left the question unasked.
Galain said, “Martin was the only one to reach Stone Mountain.” He shrugged. “We know Laurie’s boyhood friend is dead,” he said of Roald, not using the dead man’s name in elven fashion. “Of Laurie and Baru Serpentslayer, we know nothing.” Arutha could only nod. He felt regret at the death of Roald. The mercenary had proved a loyal companion. But he was more disturbed at Laurie’s unknown fate; he thought of Carline. He hoped for her sake Laurie was well. He put aside that worry for more immediate concerns and motioned for Galain to lead the way.
They moved eastward, taking the higher trail whenever possible. Galain rode in the van, and they did resemble a company of renegades led by a moredhel.
At a point where two trails met, they could again see the city. It squatted against the mountain, smoking rubble. The crater where the keep had stood still spewed forth black smoke. The rocks of the cliff face seemed to glow red in the early morning gloom. “Is there nothing left of the keep?” Guy asked in quiet wonder.
Amos looked down, his face a stony mask. “It was there,” he answered, pointing to a spot at the base of the cliff. Now only the raging inferno could be seen as the pool of naphtha burned unabated in the deep pit blown out of the rocks. Nothing which resembled the keep, the inner wall, moat, or the first dozen blocks of the city could be seen. Those buildings nearest the citadel still discernible were little more than piles of rubble. Only the outer wall remained intact, except where the barbican had been exploded. Everything was gutted, charred black, or glowing red. Amos said, “It’s all gone. Armengar is gone.” No building remained intact, and the entire mountainside was shrouded by a blue black haze of smoke. Even outside the walls, the litter of bodies was appalling.
It was clear that Murmandamus had taken a terrible beating in sacking the city, but still his host dominated the plain outside the walls. Banners flew and companies moved, as the moredhel warlord ordered his army to march. Amos spat. “Look, he still has a larger army in reserve than he threw at us,”
Arutha said with fatigue in his voice, “You cost him close to fifteen thousand dead -”
Guy interrupted. “And he can still march more than thirty-five thousand against Tyr-Sog . . .” Elements were moving, and the scouts and outriders were already galloping toward their assigned places along the line of march. Guy studied it for a moment, then said, “Damn me! He’s not moving south! He’s moving his army eastward!”
Arutha looked at Amos, then at Guy. “But that makes no sense. He can hold the dwarves to the west, pushing them back until he’s in Yabon.”
Jimmy said, “To the east . . .”