Blades of the Banished - Robert Ryan Page 0,72

Court and the enemy on the Hainer Lon, but it would not separate them long. Soon the enemy would clamber over it. Soon they would come in from the sides. Soon the men of Esgallien would be surrounded. Now they must act quickly if they were to live.

Lanrik turned to the Lindrath and the generals.

“The city is lost,” he said. “We can stay here, to fight and die, or we can take the chance Aranloth has given us to escape. Follow me!”

The generals did not argue.

Lanrik drew Conhain’s sword so that the men would know him. The Lindrath blew the talnak horn.

“To Gold Gate!” Lanrik cried. “And to our friends and family beyond them. Esgallien is lost, but they are not, and they will need us. March!”

And the army marched. One last look he had at Conhain Court from the rear of the ranks; one final glimpse of the statues of the kings, and last of all his gaze lingered on Conhain. The court was silent. No one was there. The enemy did not yet dare to ascend the rubble.

The statue of Conhain on his great warhorse was proud and valiant. The king held high the Red Cloth of Victory, which signified victory from defeat, courage from sacrifice, hope from despair. And that was how Lanrik would remember it.

Epilogue

The enemy pursued them. But they fought a retreat up and into the forested hills beyond Gold Gate. There, the Azan riders could not bring the advantage of their mounts to bear.

Down in the city fires burned unhindered, and elugs looted. It was a red sunset. All the sunsets for many days were so, for a great pall of smoke and ash filled the sky: Esgallien’s funeral pyre was vast.

The Raithlin led the host along dim and hidden trails. On the fourth day, they ventured down onto the road again. There was no sign of the enemy. They still looted the city and reveled in their victory, and a great victory it was. Now, the way was opened to the rest of the north, and they would seek to conquer it.

Camarelon might be next. Or Cardoroth. But though the enemy had the victory, it was not complete, for many of Esgallien’s soldiers survived. They would swell the ranks of another king’s armies. And they would fight again. Most of all, the women and children of Esgallien survived.

They caught up with the exiled host near the Hills of Enorìen. There, they looked down at the great camp one evening while snow fell and powdered the ground.

Lanrik, Erlissa and Aranloth stood on a rise by themselves.

“This much is good at least,” Erlissa said.

“What?” Lanrik asked, raising his weary head from deep thought.

She pointed to the host.

“See! There are women and children. Many of their husbands, and their husbands to be, and their fathers, and their brothers come now to join them. They are alive, and that was you. You couldn’t save the city. It wasn’t fated, but you saved them, who otherwise would have perished.”

Lanrik looked at them. His heart lightened.

“You could be their king, Lanrik,” Aranloth said softly. “They would follow you. You could forge a new kingdom as once your grandsire did.”

Lanrik looked at them again. They would follow him, that he knew. He fingered the hilt of Conhain’s sword. A while he stood thus in thought, and no one spoke.

At length, he reached out and held Erlissa’s hand.

“Perhaps I could be a king, but they will find homes in already established realms, and it will be better for them. Besides,” he paused and squeezed Erlissa’s hand, “I have other places to be and other things to do.”

A long while they stood in silence while the army marched down to reunite with their friends and family, but Lanrik gave no further orders. None of the three of them went down.

The sun set. Darkness grew. Fires flared to life in the camp, and song filled the air.

Aranloth stood unnaturally still. When he spoke, his voice came from faraway, for he described a vision not seen by eyes.

“From their midst a great hope shall come. One will be born that otherwise would not have lived, for if Esgallien did not fall, his parents would never have met. He will rise to power, and the south will learn to fear him.”

Aranloth said no more. The vision was gone, and he sighed. Together, the three of them walked back over the rim of the hill and away from the camp. There the Raithlin and their horses