The Serpentwar Saga: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      The valley swept from the fork in the river to the west, ending in a series of rising meadows, until at last they would have to crest the ridge of mountains. On the tenth day of the march, a scout returned to tell Calis of a party of hunters he had encountered ahead.

      Erik, Roo, and four other men were sent ahead with Foster to negotiate with the hunters. Erik was grateful for anything that broke the monotony of the march. Every day had been toil without respite. As much as he enjoyed horses and working with them, Erik had never been a great rider. He found twelve hours in the saddle, interrupted only by walking beside the horses to rest them, making and breaking camp, mock combats, and a steady diet of dried rations more drudgery than even his worst days at the forge.

      The countryside was sloping hills, all moving quickly up into peaks and crests. The mountains of this region topped out at a lower elevation than the biggest Erik was used to at home, but there were far more of them here. The three major peaks of Darkmoor were surrounded by many hills, but otherwise few true mountains. Mostly they were high plateaus and sloping hillsides. But here, while modest in altitude, the mountains were plentiful and steep, with quickly rising buttes and prominences, dead-end valleys and box canyons, hard granite cut by streams and rivers. Trees grew in abundance and none of the surrounding peaks rose high enough above the timberline to give them a clear point of reference as they traveled through the dense woods. Erik suspected this range of mountains might prove a hazard as well as an inconvenience.

      The hunters were waiting at the agreed-upon location. Erik reined in as Foster dismounted, removed his sword belt, and approached with his hands open. Erik studied the hunters.

      They were hill people, dressed in fur-covered vests and long woolen trousers. Erik suspected there were herds of sheep or goats secreted away in the local meadows. Each man carried an efficient-looking bow, not quite as impressive as the Kingdom longbow, but clearly powerful enough to kill a man or bear as well as a deer.

      The leader was a grey-bearded man who stepped forward to speak with Foster, while the other three stood motionless. Erik glanced around and saw no sign of any horses; these men hunted on foot. Given the terrain, Erik judged that more sensible than trying to convince a horse to act like a donkey or goat. If the hunters’ village was any higher up the slopes, horses would be less than an inconvenience; they’d be a danger.

      Two of the other men bore a strong resemblance to the leader, while the third appeared like him in manner only. Erik guessed they were a family, with the odd man perhaps being married to a daughter.

      Foster nodded, reached into his tunic, and pulled out a heavy purse. He counted out some gold pieces and returned to where Roo held his mount. ‘You men wait here.’ With a motion of his head he made it clear that they were to keep the hunters from running off with the gold he just gave them. ‘I’ll bring up the rest of the company. These fellows have a way over the mountains that’s safe for the horses.’

      Erik glanced at the steep rise of the landscape before him and nodded. ‘I hope so.’

      While they waited, the hunters talked among themselves. The one who didn’t resemble the other three listened as the leader spoke, then without comment he turned and began to trot toward the tree line.

      One of the soldiers, a man named Greely, shouted, ‘Where does he think he’s going?’ The hunter stopped. Greely’s command of the local language, learned on ship and while traveling, was better than Erik’s, but his accent obviously struck the hillmen as odd enough that they looked puzzled by the question.

      The leader looked at him. ‘Do you think treachery?’

      Seeing that all four hunters were ready to unsling bows and start firing if the wrong answer was forthcoming, Erik glanced at Roo; suddenly Roo said, ‘He’s sending his son-in-law home to tell his wife and daughter that he and his sons won’t be home for supper tonight. Am I right?’

      The lead hunter nodded, once, and waited. Greely said, ‘Well … I guess that’s all right.’

      The leader made a curt gesture and the fourth hunter began trotting off again. Then the leader of the hunters said, ‘And tomorrow, too. It’s a harsh two days over the ridge, with no easy time going down the day after, but once on the trail you’ll have that well enough without my help.’ He leaned upon his bow once more.

      About fifteen minutes of silence followed, then the sound of horses approaching from the rear heralded Calis and his company’s approach. Calis rode at the head of the company and when he pulled up he spoke rapidly to the hunter. The exchange was so quick and heavily accented that Erik couldn’t follow most of it.

      But in the end Calis seemed satisfied and turned to the others, who were still riding up behind. ‘This is Kirzon and his sons. They know a trail over the ridge and down into the Vedra River valley. It’s narrow and difficult.’

      For two hours they followed the hunters along a narrow trail, winding up into the hills. The way was dangerous enough that they took it at a slow pace, since any mistake could cause an injury to horse and rider. After reaching a small meadow, the hunter turned to confer with Calis. Calis nodded, then said, ‘We’ll camp now and leave at first light.’

      Suddenly de Loungville and Foster were shouting orders and Erik and Roo were snapping to without thought. Getting the horses in picket, unsaddled and placed so they could crop the long grass, proved more time-consuming than if they had simply been staked out in a line and had fodder carried to them.

      By the time Erik and the others in charge of the horses were finished, the rest of the company had already dug most of the moat, throwing up dirt on four sides in a breastwork. Erik grabbed a shovel and jumped down next to the others. Quickly the defense was made ready. The drop gate was assembled, interlocking planks of wood carried on a baggage animal that, when run out, served as a broad bridge over the trench. Then Erik climbed out as others were doing, on the short side of the trench, walked to the gate and crossed over, and began tamping the earth of the breastwork. Roo came over with a set of iron-tipped wooden stakes, which he inserted at a set distance along the top of the breastwork. Then they hurried to join with the rest of the men and erect their six-man tent, fashioned with interwoven pieces of fabric, one section carried by each man. They placed their bedrolls inside and returned to the commissary area, where soup was being boiled.

      On the march they ate dried bread and fruits, with vegetable soups whenever possible. At first Erik and some others grumbled over the lack of meat in the diet, but he now found he agreed with the older soldiers that heavy food weighed them down in the field. He knew that while the thought of a steaming roast or a joint of mutton, or his mother’s meat pies, could make his mouth water, he hadn’t felt stronger in his life.

      Wooden bowls were handed СКАЧАТЬ