“Maybe it's come to take you off to join him?”
“Maybe.”
“No.” The sergeant gave him what amounted to a reassuring show of teeth. “Your da was a good man and a brave soldier, but he'd have rather faced that lot down there single-handed than get up on the back of a horse, ghost or otherwise. And he sure wouldn't have sent one for you. No, that there's something else altogether.”
“What?”
“Well, that remains to be seen.” He turned. “Keep your eyes on the enemy,” he ordered tersely. “They're a lot more dangerous than . . . whatever that is out there. You understand?”
“Yes, Sarge.”
His jaw tight, the sergeant headed for the south ramparts.
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By the next morning everyone wanted to hear about “Andy's latest mountain cat.” Finally he'd taken a swing at Mac Rellden and they'd backed off a little. Leaving him in the tender care of Norma and Ernie, Phen took their bowls to the chow line.
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“So, what's this slop s'posed to be?”
Norma's brother Harn glared at his bowl. The garrison cook shot him a resentful look back.
“It's beans, mister, and you should be glad to get'em. Stores are running low. Pretty soon you'll be looking at yer boots and wondering how to I can cook'em up.”
Phen laughed. “That would break the siege double quick. We all die from the fumes.”
Harn glared at him as everyone about them laughed.
“Hey, heads up, the Commander.”
There was a hushed silence over the chow line as Commander Dravin strode across the parade ground. Those seated made to stand, but he waved them down again.
A tall man in his late twenties, Dravin had been the late Commander Beckwin's lieutenant for four years before an infected tooth had taken the old man to his reward. He was not an imposing officer, but rather one who carried an air of practical confidence that inspired the same confidence in others. Today his eyes were shadowed with fine worry lines, but he smiled easily as Phen and Harn saluted.
“How's the food?”
“The same, sir,” Phen replied. “Have some?”
“No thank you, Mister Royn, I've already eaten. The last of the turnips I'm afraid, privilege of rank. But ask me again tomorrow.”
“No sign of relief column yet, sir?” Harn asked bluntly.
“None as yet, Corporal, but Bess Taws got through. King Valdemar will be here any day now. And then there'll be roast lamb and fresh bread instead of beans and turnips,” he said loudly his voice pitched to take in the gathered soldiers. They grinned back at him, raising their spoons in salute. “Have you seen Ander Harrow?” he asked in a quieter tone.
Phen nodded. “Yes, sir. Andy!”
When the youth came forward, the commander indicated the north wall with a turn of his head. “Walk with me.”
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“It's a Companion.”
“Sir?”
“A Companion, Mister Harrow. One of the Saviors of Valdemar who came in answer to the prayers of the King himself.”
Andy squinted up at his commander. “I've heard stories of 'em, sir, but don't they always travel with Heralds?”
“They do.”
“I didn't see no Herald, sir.”
“No.”
“Do you think . . . they killed its Herald?”
“No. If its Herald had been killed, it wouldn't be pacing the garrison. It would have returned to the Companion's Field if it hadn't died as well. No, I believe it's here to choose a Herald, Mister Harrow. It just can't get close enough to do it.” The Commander stared into space for a moment. “Did you get any kind of feeling when you first saw it?” he asked finally.
“Sir?”
“A feeling, like it was calling to you or trying to draw you away from the garrison?”
Andy glanced up at him in alarm. “No, sir.”
“No sense of familiarity or purpose?”
“No, sir.”
“Hm.” His gray eyes cleared. “Never mind. I'm sure we'll find out who it's come for soon enough. Thank you, Mister Harrow.”
“Sir.”
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“Well, if it's come to choose a Herald out of this garrison its got bloody poor timing,” Norma pronounced a few minutes later.
“And bloody poor taste if it wants Andy here,” Phen added with a laugh.
“No one said it wanted me,” Andy snapped back with unusual vehemence. “It could want anyone.”
“They usually Choose the young,” Harn answered thoughtfully, digging a grubby bit of wood from behind his ear. After a moment's scrutiny, he began to pick his back teeth with it. “And you're the youngest we've got,” he finished.
“There's Garet. He's even seen it. And Tara's only two years older'n him.”
âNone of them have your sparkling personality, though.”
“Shut up, Phen.”
“Hey, really. It'll look into your eyes, then carry you away from all of this to Haven with its soft beds and clean sheets and you'll forget all about us.”
“I said, shut up!”
Ernie shot him a curious glance but Norma just shook her head. “Don't you wanna be a Herald, boy?”
Andy jerked to his feet. “Want's got nuthin' to do with it,” he almost shouted. “It's not me, all right!”
Norma made to answer, but Ernie laid his hand on her arm.
“Sure, lad. It's all right.”
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He sought him out an hour later. Andy was sitting with his back against the west barracks, stropping his dagger hard enough to raise sparks. Hitching up his pants, the older man squatted down beside him.
“So, what's what?”
“Nuthin'.”
“Bollocks.”
“Really, nuthin'. I just don't want everyone on my back when it turns out it wants someone else.”
“Why would it want someone else?”
“Because there's dozens it could want: Garet, Tara, Mac, maybe even you.” His tone was challenging, but Ernie just snorted.
“Doubt that, somehow.”
“Still. For all we know it might even want one of them.” He jerked his head past the wall.
“None of them's from Valdemar.”
“So?”
“So, it matters. No boy, it's one of us. An' if it's you, it's you, and you go.”
“Why?”
“Because that's what your folks'd want. Neither one of them ever shrank from their duty, and you'll not either. We'll miss you and you'll miss us, but you'll go.”
Andy glared at him resentfully but didn't debate the unusually long speech. He just dove the dagger into its sheath and stood up.
“Doesn't matter anyway, does it? I can't get to it and it can't get to me.”
Ernie gave him a neutral look.
“Me'be.”
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The next night everyone wanted to see “Andy's Companion.” They crowded the walls and betting was brisk with two to one odds on Andy, three to one on Garet, five to one on Tara, and ten to one on Mac. Someone even placed a bet on the garrison cook with the hope he'd be taken away. Finally, the sergeant chased them off. Betting continued in the barracks and across the parade ground and discussion was heated on how to bring the Companion and its new Herald together. Most favored a break-out fight with the four hopefuls in the middle, some wanted to sneak out in the middle of the night, and Phen suggested building a catapult and throwing first Andy, then the other three, over the walls, one at a time. Both Tara and Mac took the teasing well, and even Garet unbent long enough to reply, that as long as Andy went first, it was all right with him. Andy, however, refused to be drawn into the joke.
He'd been quiet and withdrawn all day, spending much of his time alone. At supper he answered Norma's questions with grunts and ignored Phen completely. When it came time for his shift, he took the stairs like he was climbing to the gallows. As the moon rose, he watched the illusive creature that might turn his life upside down flit back and forth through the trees, then turned away.
The next morning, Norma and Ernie went to see the commander.
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“It's about that Companion, sir,” Norma began.
“Yes?”
“Well, sir, we was wondering . . .” She glanced at Ernie who widened his eyes expectantly at her.
“The thing is, sir,” she continued, “the sergeant-at-arms, he says they, the Companions, are smart, that they can talk to each other and to their Heralds like.”
“Yes.”
“So we was wondering why, if it is a Companion and all, and if it's so smart, how come it's been pacing around the garrison for four days instead of hightailing itself off to get help. We could sure use the help and that would bring it to its Chosen a lot faster.”
Commander Dravin leaned back thoughtfully. “As I understand it, Corporal, the Companions are extremely . . . single-minded when they search for their Chosen. It would likely be totally abhorrent to it to leave once it had located that Chosen, even to get help.”
“Right, sir, that's what we figured. Also, the sergeant-at-arms, he says that they're magical, that they know things, so maybe, it knows something about us.”
“Meaning?”
“That maybe it knows we're gonna bring its Chosen to it.”
The Commander's eyes narrowed.
“Go on.”
“Well, sir, the thing is, we know it's here for one of us, and most of us figure it's Andy, him or one of the other three under twenty-five. Also . . .” she glanced at Ernie.
“Also?” the Commander prodded.
“Also,” Ernie answered, “though I'd like nuthin' more than to believe my Bessie got through, the truth is she'd have reached Haven long before now, and the King would have got word back to us somehow, if only to keep our spirits up.”
“Don't you think, sir?” Norma prodded.
The commander looked away for just a moment, then back, his expression weary. “Yes.”
“And we're running out of food, sir. This time a month from now, we'll be in a desperate place, and they'll be that much stronger. So,” Norma's eyes brightened. âWe had a thought, see. The garrison's at full strength now, decently fed and itchin' for a fight. You won't ever find us more determined than right now. We've got it into our heads, all of us, to see this Companion and one of our own matched up. So, we take the fight outside, all of us, in one mad rush, and we bring that Companion its Chosen. The enemy'll never know what hit 'em.”
The commander smiled faintly. “You realize they outnumber us at least five to one, Corporal? That most of us would never survive this mad rush?”
“At least we'd go down fightin', sir, and we know, too, that even if we do beat 'em this time, they'll be back with reinforcements. That's why it's so important to get word to King Valdemar. We figured a Companion'd have the best chance of anyone to get through, I mean It's been dancin' about their perimeter for nearly a week now and they ain't noticed it yet.”
“True.”
“And besides,” Ernie added, “a Herald'd be a fine legacy for Trance Tower, don't you think, sir?”
Commander Dravin glanced from one old veteran to the other, then nodded slowly.
“Yes, I do.”
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The Commander sent for Andy, Garet, Tara, and Mac an hour later. He came straight to the point.
“We're going to attack the enemy at dawn tomorrow,” he said bluntly. “With everything we've got. Once outside, the four of you have one objective only, regardless of who might fall around you, to find that Companion. When you do, I don't care which of you is Chosen, you're to make for Haven at once, all of you. Obviously the one riding will quickly outstrip the others, but I want you all heading south at double time, is that clear?”
The four glanced hesitantly at each other.
“But shouldn't the others join the fight after one of us is Chosen, sir?” Andy asked. “You'll need all the swords you can get.”
“Maybe so, but those are my orders, Mister Harrow.”
“But . . . sir, what if it doesn't choose any of us,” Tara asked.
“Then it's up to the Companion to find its Chosen on its own. We can't line up for it, can we?”
“No, sir.”
“Whatever happens, the four of you are to make for Haven, period. Someone has to get through.”
“Yes, sir.”
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That night the five remaining members of Gray Squad stood on the north wall together, watching the future of Trance Tower flit gracefully between the trees. Is movements were blindingly fast, one minute appearing to the east, the next to the west, but somehow it seemed less agitated tonight, as if it knew the decision they'd made.
Word of the morning's attack had spread quickly and all along the walls, the garrison watched the Companion move in reverent silence. Finally Phen stirred faintly.
“Is it my imagination or has it come closer than it was?”
Ernie nodded. “It has.”
“It sure is pretty.”
“Yep.”
“Think we should give Andy here a bath first thing tomorrow? We can't hardly have a grubby little scrub like him representin' Trance Tower like that, now can we?”
“Leave him be, Phen,” Norma admonished. “Tonight's not the time for teasin'.” She turned. “You got the drink, Harn?”
“Yeah.”
“Get it out, then.”
Harn pulled a dark, brown bottle from his pack. He uncorked it in one swift motion, then passed it over. Norma held it up and the smell of brandy wafted out on the breeze to tickle against their nostrils.