Steel And Flame (Book 1) (40 page)

*        *        *        *        *

Two days later they neared the rendezvous point.  No
other major skirmishes had taken place between the Fourth Unit and the rover
bands, though exchanges had occurred.

Twice they had seen rovers.  Both times Fielo’s men
fled into nearby woods to escape.  Once in the night rovers had launched three
arrow volleys into the camp followed by a swift retreat.

Four men had received minor wounds.  One other had
taken an arrow deep in his shoulder that reduced the function in his left arm. 
Floroes, a large man favoring a battle axe and war hammer combination, acted as
the unit’s amateur field chirurgeon in the absence of qualified ones.  Though
his skills palled beside the chirurgeons deployed by the Kings on larger
contracts, his talents could serve well enough for such non-life threatening
wounds.  After thoroughly cleaning and dressing the injury, he judged the loss
of function to be temporary.

When the Fourth crested a rise they saw Dornory’s
encampment sitting in a shallow valley near a brook that must have run fuller
in a normal season.  Tents were arranged in rows, yet far enough from each
other to keep a flung torch or fire arrow from sending them all up at once. 
The horses used by Dornory’s troops were picketed near the camp, guarded by no
less than fifty men.  Just as many others ringed the camp edges on guard duty. 
Several men rode in their direction.  Apparently scouts and lookouts were
posted farther away from the camp.

Fraser stepped forward to talk with Dornory’s
captain.  Soon the captain led them into the temporary town where they were
directed to a corner that had been left clear.  It seemed they were the first
unit to arrive.

When the captain left, Fraser confirmed, “We’re the
first, but Captain Garvin says his scouts report a unit not far off.  Don’t
make trouble or draw attention while we wait.”

Marik wondered at the admonishment, until he saw
Captain Garvin intercept a finely dressed young man headed their way, angry and
obviously spoiling for a fight.  Garvin’s directing him away from their unit
told them whom he’d had it in mind to spar with.

Hayden also witnessed the exchange in the distance. 
“Ah, that would be Baron Dornory’s eldest get.  I wonder what’s stuck in his
craw?”

“I have the feeling we’ll be finding out soon,” Marik
responded.

“True enough.  I’ve rarely seen any noble act
satisfied with the services they purchase from us.  Well, just remember that. 
The sooner you get used to it, the happier you’ll be.  Fortunately for us,
they’ll take up their issues with Lieutenant Earnell and the sergeants.”

“I guess.”  Marik looked around the camp.  “We’re
supposed to get re-supplied.  That means the food wagon too, I hope?”

Hayden grinned.  “Now you’re thinking like a
mercenary!  Let’s go grab something fresh.  They might have a spot of ale lying
around if we’re lucky.”

“In a supply line?”

“It happens.  Let’s go and see while we’re waiting,
shall we?”

*        *        *        *        *

Later in the day, the First Unit arrived with
Lieutenant Earnell at the head.  They did not seem exhausted but they
definitely had an air about them of a group kept busy.  Most simply heaped
their packs near the Fourth before leaving in search of food.

Sergeant Dove was spared reporting to Garvin when the
higher ranking Earnell left to search out the man.  Not far from the Ninth
Squad’s corner, he was intercepted simultaneously by Garvin and the still angry
son of Baron Dornory, Balfourth.

Before Balfourth could get three words out on whatever
subject had his hair ruffled, Garvin steered their little group into a nearby
supply tent.  It removed them from view, if not from earshot.  Everyone nearby
heard the angry shouts that composed half the conversation, including Marik and
Dietrik who had nothing else to keep them busy.

“We’re paying good coin for you to follow orders!  We
told you to keep those blasted leeches of Fielo’s off our soldiers!  They were
practically sharing our cloaks!  You tell me what in the hells you were doing
out there!”

“If you have a problem with our service, we shall
depart this minute.”  Earnell’s response held calm in the face of Balfourth’s
apoplectic shouting.

“You damn well won’t!  I’ll have every guard in the
kingdom after you!”

“For what charge?”

“Breach of contract for starters!” he shrieked.  Marik
imagined spit flying from the man’s mouth.

“What part of the contract states I have to listen to
you?”

“I’ve already paid you thugs a sizable advance!  You
have to do what I tell you to!”

“Our contract is with the baron, not you, and it
states we will work in cooperation with your forces.  Ask your father what that
word means, or I can tell you right now it means two or more peers working
together to achieve a common goal.  A further definition for you;
peer
means equal.  As the
peer
commanding officer, I don’t have to put up
with your misconceptions of authority if I don’t chose to.”

“I hired you!  If I have to, I’ll walk out there and
take firm command of you vagabonds
myself!
”

“Try to give my men orders and I will consider the
contract void here and now.  Besides sprat, you’re not in charge of this
campaign, whatever your daddy told you.”

Outraged splutters and shouts emitted from Balfourth. 
Soothing words from Garvin managed to keep him from blowing apart.  Other words
followed too low to hear, followed by Earnell’s terse reply that no one strolls
into enemy territory unchallenged, which set Balfourth off again.

Baron Dornory came into view, walking down the dusty
aisle between tents, turning his head from side to side.  He heard the row when
he came closer and angled for the tent without changing speed.  After he
entered, the argument began over from the start.

Apparently the pampered son felt incensed that rovers
had attacked his procession, which his father had been leading in the first
place, not once but twice during their ride up the Vineyard.  His complaints
about the Kings’ apathetic, as he named it, approach to their responsibilities
were long and loud.  Marik wanted to smash him over the head with a cook pot. 
Perhaps one of the heavier cauldrons carried by the supply wagons.

“What an idiot,” he observed to Dietrik in sheer awe. 
“He talks like he’s in charge of the entire campaign!”

“Delusions of grandeur are not an uncommon trait among
the nobles, or so I’ve seen to date.”

“Dornory was heading that march!  At least he knows
enough about fighting to know what kind of crap his brat’s spouting.”

“Does he?  I don’t seem to be hearing Dornory
contradicting his son any.”

Surprised, Marik stopped to listen for a few moments
before he realized Dietrik was correct.  Despite the flood of nonsense this
spoiled, overgrown child spewed, Dornory never interrupted him to explain the
facts of fighting in the real word, or to apologize to Lieutenant Earnell, or
to say anything at all in fact.  The silence from the older man seemed, from
outside the tent, akin to an experienced father listening to his youngest child
recite the oldest nursery rhymes, nodding in absent thought so the youngster
will feel he has achieved a great feat.

In the end, Dornory’s voice softly emerged from the
canvas, saying, “Yes, it seems I need to discuss many things with their
commanding officer,” as though Earnell were somewhere other than right next to
them.  “Why don’t you and Garvin finish the inspections you were performing?”

Soft mutterings from the son, then he and Garvin
emerged from the supply tent and returned in the direction they had come from. 
Quiet words passed between the baron and the lieutenant.  Shortly, they too
emerged, departing for other regions.  Earnell looked more irritated than Marik
had ever seen him.

“Well, it seems to have sorted itself out in the end,”
Dietrik chirped happily.

“Do you really think so?  I wonder.”

“The baron seems to have rescued the lieutenant
without making a scene with his son, so I don’t think we’ll have any worries.”

“Unless he’s as stupid as his son and actually intends
to ‘discuss’ things with Earnell in quiet.  He knew everyone could hear them
from inside that tent.”

“If he does, Earnell will likely haul out of here with
us in tow.  It sounds like the Kings leave themselves plenty of wiggle room in
the wording on their contracts.”

Marik frowned.  “I don’t agree.”

“How so?”

“Earnell could say that to Balfourth because he’s
stupid enough to believe it, but the Kings have the reputation as the best.  If
the Kings’ men ran away every time their contractor annoyed them, the rep
wouldn’t last long.”

Dietrik paused a moment before responding.  “I had not
thought of it in quite that light.  You could have a point.”

“Look!  The last unit is coming in.”  The Third, led
by Sergeant Giles, came into view looking the worse for wear, having suffered
the loss of three men during multiple encounters.

“Seems they’ve had a bit of a tumble with someone.”

“Or several someones,” Marik replied.  “Anyway, let’s
go rest.  We might be walking out tomorrow.”

*        *        *        *        *

When the combined forces of Dornory’s soldiers and the
Ninth Squad came within sight of the low canyon mouth opening on the mostly dry
riverbed, it became apparent Fielo would no longer tolerate the trespassers
marching through his lands.

This area was mostly flat, with rises that could have
been hills had they not taken a mile to rise or drop fifty feet.  In the
northern third of Fielo’s barony, the terrain underwent an abrupt change from
grassy, tillable soil to rock that rose dozens of feet in far less than a
stone’s throw.  While the new land did not form a vertical cliff, the stone
rises were a distinct change from the flatter lands around them.

Gray rock stretched across the barony in a nearly
horizontal east-west line, curving slightly south near Fielo’s eastern
borders.  Through the rocky hills ran a canyon network fifty feet deep in
places.  The canyons housed the river whose waters had nourished the arid
fields in both baronies.

They followed the dry river banks.   In places the bed
stretched fifty or sixty yards wide, the shallow depths covered with the worn
gravel and river stones that usually made wonderful fording places.  Other
areas, particularly where the bed narrowed, were solid stone with rises and
plateaus forming waterfalls several feet in height. 
At least, when the
water’s running through it at normal levels, they would be falls and rushes of
water
, Marik thought.  The ten foot wide stream currently running
sluggishly down the bed’s center looked as if it would evaporate before it
reached any fields in Dornory’s lands.  It might be enough to fulfill Fielo’s
needs during the formation of a reservoir, but the northern baron obviously
cared little for how his southern neighbor’s fields would fare.

Several scouts rode back fast to consult with the
baron.  Marik’s guard rose instinctively.  They were riding much faster than
they did when making their normal half-candlemark reports on the enemy’s
activities.

Dornory’s forces had come within view of the stone
hills housing the canyons a short while before, and had yet to encounter
opposition.  Marik saw the scouts point back the way they had ridden.  Dornory
gestured toward the hills.

“Probably they’re waiting for us over there,” he said
to Dietrik beside him.

“I imagine so.  Those chaps wouldn’t want a fight
right at the dam, so they picked the most defensible spot between us and it. 
He must have been husbanding his strength, planning to crush us in one major
blow here after whittling our numbers using his rovers.”

“You think it’ll be the rovers banded together or is
Fielo going to go full out?”

Dietrik considered a moment.  “I would think he should
put everything into this one.  This seems to be the best spot for a fight from
his standpoint.”

“Not to mention,” Kerwin suddenly jumped in from
behind them, “Fielo can’t let us reach the dam.  If we shred half his men here,
he’s only got half left to defend his skin against however many of us
survived.”

“That’s what I was wondering about,” Marik said.  “If
he was going to split his men.”

“If he’s planning a get-together with us over on those
rises, then he’ll be there with all his buddies.”

“And all of their mates as well,” Dietrik responded. 
“It looks like things will get lively soon.”

“With us at the front taking point, if Dornory’s spoiled
brat has anything to say about it.”

“It’s our lot as mercenaries,” Dietrik pointed out for
Marik’s benefit.  “It’s best to get used to it.”

The company traveled for a further candlemark until it
arrived near the base of the first stone rise.  Hills crowded forward to each
side of the river, forming a valley rising abruptly from the flats.  It looked
more like a giant arroyo than a canyon.  Beneath their feet the ground had
turned to a peculiar mix of soft dirt sprouting wild grass and hard rock patches.