“Wonderful,” said Erik, too tired to wonder how the Captain had come to be riding next to him.
“When we spar with the clansmen,” said Calis, with a faint smile, “try to be a little more subdued with them. Pataki’s a nephew of Regin, the Lion Clan chieftain. If you’d broken his head, it would have strained things a bit.”
“I’ll try to remember, Captain,” said Erik without humor.
Calis set heels to his horse and moved toward the head of the line. Roo said, “Was he joking?”
“Who cares?” said Billy Goodwin. “It’s too hot, and I’m too tired to worry about it.”
Biggo, who rode next to Billy, said, “That’s strange.”
“What?” asked Roo.
“The sun’s so red, but it’s another hour or more to sunset.”
Looking toward the west, they nodded. “What could be causing it?” asked Luis, from his place behind Biggo.
“Smoke,” answered a clansman who was riding past. “Word came last night that Khaipur was falling. That must be it burning.”
Roo said, “But that’s hundreds of miles from here! At least, that’s what the Captain said!”
Sho Pi spoke softly. “Very big fire” was all he said.
The training wore on, and Erik and the others no longer had to think about what to do; they just did it. Even the routine of building fortifications every night became commonplace; Erik ceased being astonished at how much work the seventy-five men could accomplish.
Once the routine was established, Calis and de Loungville would disrupt it, seeking to keep the men constantly alert. As the days wore on, Erik thought it unnecessary.
Riders came and went as messages were carried from various agents Calis had established over the years. Rather than take years to establish its control over the surrounding countryside, the host of the Emerald Queen was driving on the city of Lanada.
Riding in the second company, Erik heard Calis speaking to Hatonis and one of the riders who had just brought that news. “It was seven years between the fall of Sulth and the assault on Hamsa.”
Hatonis said, “But the invaders had to fight through the Forest of Irabek.”
“Three years between Hamsa and Kilbar, then a year between Kilbar and Khaipur.”
Calis nodded. “As they control more of the continent, they seem more intent on accelerating their advance.”
De Loungville speculated, “Maybe the army’s getting too big to control and its generals have to keep it busy with conquest.”
Calis shrugged. “We need to change our line of march.” To the rider he said, “Rest with us tonight and tomorrow return north. Carry word to the Jeshandi we will not be coming their way. We are going to leave the Serpent River and turn straight west. Pass the word to those who seek us that we are going to attempt to intercept the invaders between Khaipur and Lanada. Look for us at the Mercenaries’ Rendezvous.”
Erik and the others turned to look across the Serpent River, where in the distance they saw a vast valley of forests and meadows, and beyond that a small range of mountains. They would have to cross the river, ride through that and, once across the mountains, down into the river lands of the Vedra.
De Loungville said, “Do we turn around for the crossing point at Brek’s?”
Calis said, “No, it would lose us too much time. Send scouts ahead and find us a place to cross.”
De Loungville ordered riders forward, and two days later they reported a broadening of the river where the current was slow enough that rafting might be possible. Calis reached that point and agreed it was worth the try. He ordered the men to cut what little growth there was along the river to make a set of small rafts. A dozen men, including Erik and Biggo, made the treacherous crossing, poling their way from one side to the other, carrying lines that would be used to get the others across. On the far bank, the dozen men cut enough trees of a size to lash together logs into four rafts, each large enough to hold four horses. The horses for the most part cooperated, though one raft was lost on the second-to-the-last trip as a line parted and the logs broke apart. The horses and men jumped into the water as the raft disintegrated, and all the men were pulled out downstream, but only one horse made it to the shore.
There were sufficient remounts so that the losing of three horses was not a serious deprivation, but the thought of the animals drowning bothered Erik. He found that disturbing, for the specter of battle and men dying held no pain for him, but the idea of a horse, terrified as it was being swept downriver, made him very sad.