The Chaoswar Saga: A Kingdom Besieged, A Crown Imperilled, Magician’s End. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ you, and obviously I have done a poor job of hiding that, may I say …’ His voice rose to a near shout, ‘… you’ve picked an impossible moment to profess your love!’ He laughed. ‘But you never were one for choosing the proper moment, were you?’ He kissed her before she could answer and then added, ‘Very well, I’ll speak to Father when this is over.’

      He glanced down at the town as the clamour of voices and the sounds of fear and panic rose. ‘But now I have to go calm the people whose care has been given over to me. We both have rank and privilege, so it is time we both showed we deserve them.’

      Gently he turned her around, and with a slight pressure on her arm indicated it was time to go down the stairs into a much darker and grimmer time than either had ever experienced.

      The ships hove to at the mouth of the harbour at sundown. Martin watched as the last of the townspeople crowded into the yard below. When the last was through, he signalled for the gates to be closed. Sergeant Ruther, standing beside him with his arms crossed, said, ‘Now we dig in.’ Martin glanced at him and the sergeant added, ‘Sir.’

      Martin shook his head. ‘It’s all right, Sergeant. I’m new to this.’

      ‘We’re all new at this, sir. My father was a baby the last time this castle was attacked.’

      ‘Still, we’ve had our fair share of tussles.’

      ‘Yes, sir, but meaning no disrespect, a bunch of bandits or a raiding party of trolls is one thing. We’re about to make the acquaintance of some Keshian Dog Soldiers. Not the same thing.’

      ‘Dog Soldiers? What should we expect?’

      ‘Can’t rightly say. Not one man in Crydee has faced them and all I know is what I was told when I was a young soldier.’

      ‘Which was?’ asked Martin, genuinely curious.

      ‘Old Sergeant Mason, who was here when I was a recruit, he told me he spent time down in Landreth serving with a company of Borderers, under Lord Sutherland’s command. It was a quick rise to glory, he said, else he’d never have earned promotion. Anyway, he said that most of the time they crossed swords with rogue mercenary companies or outlaws, but there was this one time they ran afoul of a company of Keshians.

      ‘The way he told it made me think it was the toughest fight of his life, and he’d seen a few. What he said was “they just keep coming”. They have no respect for life, not yours, not their own.

      ‘Kesh is a funny place, from what I’ve been told. Trueblood women running around nearly naked and no one minds, the rest being not much better than cattle to them Truebloods. But they’re hunters, you see, and don’t think much of warriors.’

      ‘I don’t follow,’ admitted Martin.

      ‘See, the thing is, you can only rise so high not being a Trueblood, and as they don’t give much glory to fighting men anyway, it makes for a vicious army. They don’t do it for glory, you see. They’re called Dog Soldiers for two reasons, according to Sergeant Mason: first is they’re kept penned up like mad dogs and only unleashed on Kesh’s enemies. Otherwise they don’t mix with other people: they’ve got their own fortresses, their own families, grow their own crops and make their own weapons. They’re loyal to their masters, like dogs. The other is that they bring dogs along on long marches so they can eat them. Though I have my doubts about that bit.’

      Martin said nothing, then repeated, ‘They just keep coming.’

      ‘That’s what Mason said. They won’t give quarter and they don’t ask for any. They just keep coming until you kill enough of them they get tired and run off. Or die to the last, I guess.’ He paused. ‘It’s about honour, not glory. They’re a brotherhood, a clan, something like that, and they die for one another.’

      Martin felt the pit of his stomach grow cold and found his knuckles turning white as he heard the gates to the castle slam shut. He willed himself to relax, then saw something that made him smile.

      Despite promising to stay with their mothers, Lady Bethany was down in the courtyard, organizing the townspeople and assigning areas of the large bailey to families, sending all livestock around to the rear of the castle.

      ‘She’s something, that one,’ Ruther said with a smile.

      Martin returned the smile. ‘That she is.’

      ‘Well, sir, if you’re not needing me there are things to do.’

      ‘You are dismissed, Sergeant,’ said Martin.

      Alone on the top of the castle’s outer gatehouse, looking down at organization slowly emerging from chaos, Martin took a deep breath. He reminded himself that he was a year older than Prince Arutha had been at the start of his legendary career. Then he muttered, ‘Of course he had Swordmaster Fannon and great-grandfather with him, and my Swordmaster is in Rillanon with my brother, and my younger brother is riding with Father.’

      He felt terribly alone, yet despite wishing Bethany away and safe, he was thankful to his bones that she was here.

      And he would do whatever was needed to keep her safe.

      The night dragged on. By midnight those remaining outside the central keep huddled under makeshift shelters of wood and blankets, gathered around campfires, or under the few military tents Sergeant Ruther found abandoned in one corner of the castle’s armoury.

      Many of the townspeople had been crowded into the keep itself: storage had been shifted around and the extra space thus made was filled to overflowing. Families with small children had been given priority and had the safest rooms deep within the keep; women with older daughters had been packed into the outer rooms and towers.

      Every man capable of bearing arms between the age of fourteen and seventy, was issued a weapon. Sergeant Ruther took it upon himself, in the Swordmaster’s absence, to determine which detail each man was given, which was fine with Martin.

      The young commander of the garrison had spent most of the night watching for signs of the Keshians coming ashore. It was now clear that they were not attempting a night landing, and would wait for dawn.

      ‘You should get some sleep.’ The voice was his mother’s.

      Martin turned and said, ‘What about you, Mother?’

      She smiled. ‘There’s still much to do. Usually we prepare food for the town only twice a year, at Banapis and Midwinter. Now we must cook what we can every day.’

      ‘We’ll manage. Father will return soon.’

      ‘Not soon enough.’ She sighed. ‘What are your plans?’

      ‘Simple enough. We see what they bring in the morning and then we determine the best way to hold them until Father returns with the garrison.’

      ‘What about …?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘I … I’ve never been through a war.’

      ‘None of us have,’ said Martin, patting her hand. ‘It’s going to be fine, Mother. We have provisions, and enough trained soldiers alongside the townsmen that we can repulse up to ten times the number of defenders. If they have less СКАЧАТЬ