The Icemark Chronicles: The Cry of the Icemark (10 page)

Thirrin turned in her saddle and hastily waved her escort of troopers back to a greater distance. She didn’t need any rumors springing from this. “But you don’t believe that, surely?”

“Yes,” he answered with such open simplicity that Thirrin was both shocked and convinced. It tallied with her own fears exactly, but hearing someone else talk of coming war with such certainty was deeply disturbing.

“When?”

“I don’t know … precisely.”

“Within a year?”

“Yes. And probably before the season changes.”

They rode on in silence while Thirrin thought things over. Maggiore Totus would scoff at such superstition, but then again he’d scoff at the idea of the Holly King and Oak King, and she now knew without a doubt that they existed.

She and Oskan were riding well ahead of the escort by this time and, as neither of them had torches, they could see the simple black-and-white beauty of moonlight percolating through the trees glowing mysteriously all around them.

“What should we do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’m no politician or soldier. Just be ready, I suppose.”

She nodded. They were as ready as they could be. The only thing they couldn’t prepare for was the direction of an invasion.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea who will attack us?” she asked, half prepared to rely on any mystical powers or intuition he might have inherited from his mother.

“Oh yes, that’s easy. The Polypontian Empire, of course.”

“Of course,” she answered with quiet irony. “But why are you so certain?”

“Logical, really. Who else?”

“The Corsairs and Zephyrs. They’ve been quiet for too long.”

Oskan sat in thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. The Polypontus for sure.”

Exactly why she believed him was unclear even to herself, but believe him she did. The only problem was to convince the King and get him to call out the fyrd in the southern provinces and send the Royal Army to help, even if it was only a precaution. She’d have to take it up with him at the Yule Feast the next day: After a few festive ales he was always more open to discussion.

As they rode, the mournful wail of a distant wolf echoed through the forest, making the horses whicker nervously.
“There may be no snow, but it’s still cold enough to drive the packs down from the mountains,” she said.

“True,” Oskan answered. “But that wasn’t a wolf, or not completely so, anyway.”

“Another wolfman, here in the Icemark?”

“Wolfwoman, actually.”

“You can tell that? Then can you understand their language? What’s she saying?”

The howling broke out again, descending slowly through the octaves to a deep and strange moan.

“I can understand a little, not everything. She’s warning of something and calling a …” He stopped and in the subtle brilliance of the moonlight his face looked deadly pale. “She’s calling a muster of the Wolffolk! That hasn’t happened in generations! Something big must be going on. Perhaps we should look to the north for war after all!”

Thirrin stood in her stirrups and waved up the escort ready to gallop for Frostmarris. But Oskan grabbed her arm.

“Wait. There’s more.” He listened as the distant howling continued, weaving a melancholy web of sound over the night sky. “No, I was right. The trouble
is
coming from the south, and she thinks they’ll be too late to fulfill their … Well, she uses the word
oath
and then says ‘to the Princess.’”

Thirrin gasped, then barked orders at the troopers. “Ditch the torches. We ride for the city!”

“She’s probably right, of course,” Oskan continued as though chatting comfortably by a fire about the price of bread. “The wolfwoman’s obviously just part of a relay sending this message back to The-Land-of-the-Ghosts, and by the time it gets there, whatever’s about to happen will already have done so, if you see what I mean. I wonder what oath she’s talking about. And who’s this
Princess?”

Thirrin cuffed him impatiently around the head. “Shut up and ride!”

With that her horse leaped off through the forest. Oskan urged his mount on and then immediately wished he hadn’t as the animal charged after Thirrin and her escort. He clung to the horse’s neck, desperately trying to avoid the branches and twigs that whipped overhead as they sped along the narrow forest track. The rich scents of leaf litter kicked up by the galloping hooves of twelve horses reminded him of the Yuletide cakes he hoped to be eating. But he soon forgot all about food as he concentrated on staying mounted on the wildly galloping animal.

In what seemed an incredibly short time they burst out of the trees and fanned out over the farmland that flowed up to the walls of the city like a windswept fertile sea. If anything, it was even colder here without the shelter of the forest, and Oskan tried to draw his cloak around him to keep out the bitter iciness. But it was no good; he’d no sooner risked life and limb to grab an edge when the wind ripped it out of his hand again. He clamped his jaw shut on his chattering teeth and stared ahead to Thirrin and the cavalry escort. He wondered if he looked as wild as they did, all flailing hooves and billowing cloaks, and concluded that he must.

Frostmarris was drawing nearer, looming over the plain like a disciplined mountain range, all right angles and straight edges instead of jagged peaks. But in the moonlight its granite walls glowed slightly, as though it were made of nothing more solid than moonlit cloud, just waiting for a gust of wind to blow it away across the plain. In the clarity of the night air Oskan could see the glint of spears as the guards made their slow circuit of the walls, and he was struck with a sense of the city’s vulnerability. A besieging army could starve it, break its
walls, kill its people. Was that what the wolfwoman’s message was about? But why should the Wolffolk be bothered about Frostmarris? Before he could give any more thought to these questions, he lost his grip and almost slid sideways from the saddle. With a wildly thumping heart he managed to struggle back upright, and he decided to give all his attention to riding and ask questions later.

O
skan had been dreading having to sleep in the Great Hall along with all the other less important guests who would fill the castle for Yule. He was used to the privacy of his cave, and the thought of sharing his space with any number of total strangers was daunting. But he needn’t have worried; he had been given his own room. Admittedly it was small, with just enough space for the narrow bed, a chest for the few things he’d brought with him, and a stool to lay his clothes on, but it was a private room and a huge privilege. He knew for certain that there were some quite wealthy merchants curled up around the central hearth of the Great Hall, vying for space with the wolfhounds and trying to guard their property from their fellow guests. He almost felt guilty that an orphaned peasant boy like himself should be given his own room — almost, but not quite.

He stretched comfortably under the warm covers and savored the peace and quiet. Only an hour before, he’d been in the King’s private chamber with Thirrin, and Redrought’s huge voice had filled everything to capacity, including Oskan’s head.

As soon as they’d arrived in the castle courtyard, the Princess had leaped from her horse and waited impatiently while Oskan had climbed carefully down from the saddle. Then she’d led him through the massive double doors that stood before them into the Great Hall. Neither Thirrin nor her escort of soldiers seemed to care in the least that they walked over several guests who’d settled down for Yuletide Eve around the central fire. Oskan had whispered hurried apologies to several outraged figures who had sat up spluttering into the red glow of the fire-lit hall. Things hadn’t been helped, either, when most of the wolfhounds, seeing Thirrin and the soldiers, had decided it was morning and time for their run, so they had started to bark excitedly and jump around over the rest of the sleeping guests. By the time they’d reached the massive oak throne on the dais and dodged behind it to enter the King’s chambers, the Great Hall was in an uproar with dogs baying, sentries shouting challenges, and woken guests demanding to know what was going on.

Thirrin had thumped once on the low door to her father’s private apartments and burst in. A sentry just inside the room had leveled his spear and shouted a startled demand to know their business, and a small collection of white hair and wrinkles in a red nightshirt had hopped out of a low cot with a squeak. “Who is it, Bergeld? See them off! Call out the guard!”

“It’s the Princess, sir,” the sentry had replied, lowering shield and spear.

“The Princess? At this hour?” Grimswald the chamberlain had then rubbed his eyes and gazed at the party of Thirrin, Oskan, and the soldiers. “Not only the Princess, it seems. You can dismiss your men, Ma’am.”

Thirrin raised her hand, and her escort saluted and marched away. Oskan, in the comfort of his bed, remembered how
much larger the room had suddenly seemed after the ten heavily armed soldiers had gone. Grimswald had then cleared his throat with deliberate dignity and asked precisely what they wanted.

“I have urgent news for
my
father,” Thirrin had replied, with a slight but powerful emphasis on the word my.

“Well, since you’ve woken him up, you might as well tell him what you very well want!” a huge voice had boomed into the room and was soon followed by an enormous white nightshirt that made its way irritably through a door from an inner chamber. Oskan’s jaw had literally dropped open before the massive figure of the King. His billowing nightshirt and swirling red hair and beard made him look like a snow-covered volcano in mid-eruption, and the rumbling that could be heard deep in the barrel chest suggested that further fireworks were likely.

“Father, we heard a wolfwoman in the forest….”

“Is that all? Well, hunt her tomorrow! Is that the only reason you woke me?” The King had been outraged, and his face had gone almost as red as his flaming hair.

“No,” Thirrin had said hurriedly. “Oskan understands their language, and it seems she was part of a relay of messages back to The-Land-of-the-Ghosts.”

By this time the King had marched over to the chair he used during the day and was pummeling the cushions to his liking. He stopped and looked up, his eyes narrowing with interest.

“What did she say?” he’d asked.

“She was calling a gathering! A gathering of the Wolffolk …”

“Odin!” Redrought had boomed in amazement. “What else?”

Thirrin had paused, unconsciously raising the tension. “She
said that she didn’t think they’d be in time to fulfill their oath to the Princess.”

The King had leaped to his feet and turned to Oskan. “Do you know which direction this message came from?”

For a moment Oskan had quailed under Redrought’s fierce gaze, but then he’d answered. “She was calling to others in a relay to the north, so it must have come from the south.”

“The Polypontus, then,” the King said, and then astonished Oskan by smiling. “It looks like we’re going to meet General Scipio Bellorum at last, eh, Thirrin?”

“Yes, Dad. At last.” And she’d smiled, too.

In the warmth of his bed afterward, it all seemed unreal to Oskan. With an amazing speed, the King had sent out messages to all points of the compass calling out the fyrd and ordering the regiments of royal housecarls to march south immediately. Redrought, though, seemed to be planning to follow the day after Yule with the cavalry. Obviously he didn’t think the invasion was imminent and was coolly determined to enjoy the Yuletide Feast before going anywhere.

“Do you think the Lady Theowin will know what’s going on?” Thirrin had then asked.

“Certain to,” Redrought had answered. “Her scouts keep a close eye on the border every day of the year. She and her housecarls will keep any invading force busy until we get there. But judging by what your new allies the Wolffolk were saying, the invasion hasn’t happened yet; they were just worried they wouldn’t be ready in time to help.”

Thirrin had glowed with pleasure. Her insistence on an alliance with at least some of the creatures from The-Land-of
the-Ghosts was already paying off. But then Redrought had begun to doubt the reports of the emergency.

“You are
fluent
in wolf speech, aren’t you?” he’d boomed at Oskan.

“Oh yes, sir,” Oskan had answered confidently. “My mother taught me before I could even read or write.”

“You can read!” Redrought had bellowed in surprise. Picking up his precious
Book of the Ancestors
that still lay next to his chair, he opened it at random and told Oskan to read where his finger pointed. Oskan had done so, and when Redrought had looked inquiringly at Grimswald and the old chamberlain had nodded, he’d grunted in satisfaction and smiled.

“You have a learned adviser, Daughter! Use him well.” Both Oskan and Thirrin had blushed at that, and the King laughed hugely.

“Now, Grimswald, bring my cloak and boots! We’re going to the lookout tower to see if Thirrin’s allies are saying anything else about General Scipio Bellorum.”