Blades of the Banished - Robert Ryan Page 0,55

Lanrik guessed these men were handpicked for the task, and he had to reassess the idea that Ebona did not intend to properly guard the ford.

Their commander urged his mount forward, but only a few paces. He stayed within the protection of his men, all armed with short cavalry bows, arrows fitted to their strings.

“Who are you, and why do you seek entry into Esgallien?”

Aranloth answered. “We’re friends of Esgallien, and we come with grave tidings and help.”

The commander studied him closely. “Esgallien has few friends in these troubled times. And none of them dwells south of the river. Our orders are to shoot and kill any who attempt to cross. Wherefore should we spare your lives?”

Aranloth laughed. It seemed a strange reaction to the situation.

“You have answered your own question,” he said. “Your orders are to kill, yet that you have not done. It’s not your way, nor the way of most who dwell in Esgallien.”

The commander hesitated, but not for long. “That may be so, yet it is death to disobey orders – so speak quickly or ours may yet be carried out.”

“You name her not, but I know whence those orders come. And though you have not said as much, you already know me. Who else would I be, an old man, white-robed and carrying a staff? Long have I come to this land, and until recently, I have always received a good welcome.” The lòhren spread his arms in a wide gesture. “With me are the Lindrath, Lanrik and Erlissa, as well as many Raithlin. These you know also.”

The commander did not hesitate this time. “I asked for a reason to spare your lives. Instead, you give me a list, as it seems, of everyone in the kingdom with a price on their head. It’s a strange way of seeking safety.”

Aranloth shrugged. “And yet still you have not shot. Shall I tell you why?”

The commander made no answer, and Aranloth continued. “For many of us you have respect. You knew us before I spoke. You do not believe us traitors, irrespective of your orders, for you know us all as friends. Thus do you forestall your orders, even though it is death to do so.”

The commander drew a long breath. “That may all be a near guess. Yet, as you say, it’s still death for us to let you pass.”

“And yet you will.”

“Why are you so sure, old man?”

“I know people. Sometimes, I know them better than they know themselves. And I know this also. You were sent here for a reason. You know the Royal Guards are in favor. You know being posted here is the lowest job in the army, away from the city, away from family and friends. And you know also that there are too few of you to survive should a real enemy strike at Esgallien Ford.”

“What of it?”

“Simply this. You say your lives are forfeit if you let us pass. I say this instead. Your lives are already forfeit, at least to the Witch-queen. She has abandoned you to death. She will know by now that an enemy comes behind us. The might of the south is raised and war marches toward you. Ebona has no intention of stopping them at the ford, and you, the least liked of her servants, are the most expendable. That is why you are here.”

Aranloth paused to let his words sink in. The commander made no move, showing nothing of his emotions. Nevertheless, many men behind him became restless.

“Behold!” Aranloth cried in a suddenly loud voice. “I shall lay bare her treachery.”

He lifted high his staff. A silver light shimmered in the air all about them. It showed a net of webs, thin as a spider’s castings, though each strand gleamed a wicked red. One pierced the heart of each soldier, and they all led back along a single line that shot toward Esgallien.

“What is it?” The commander asked. And though his face was pale, no tremor of fear was in his voice.

“Think!” Aranloth said. “Think of the old legends of Ebona. Think of that long ago battle that was fought near these very fords, where Conhain fell. Once upon a time all the citizens of Esgallien could tell that story. Is it so swiftly forgotten under the rule of a dark queen?”

The commander gazed back at him steadily. “She would feed of our death.”

“Yes.”

“Can you free us?”

“No. Not yet. Make no mistake, the same net of witchery is cast over every person in