In the far north of Fyorlund, on its bleak border with Narsindal, stood the great tower fortress of Narsindal-vak. Built on top of a high peak with its roots set deep into the ancient mountain rock, the single circular tower tapered high into a sky invariably leaden with low cloud.
The base was unprotected by any wall, but was a solid and massive extension of the tower’s flaring taper. It blended into the rock in a manner that a travelled observer would have likened to the construction of Anderras Darion.
Narsindalvak dominated the surrounding land for many miles and its sheer size imposed a respect and awe on even the most hardened of its occupants. But for all its soaring majesty the towering fortress attracted little affection, for inside its great sprawling roots lay the extensive barracks that had housed the generations of High Guards who until relatively recent times had maintained The Watch, the Fyordyn’s ancient and traditional duty to guard their borders against the Second Coming of Sumeral.
In token of this duty, rings of windows peered out of every level of the tower like countless staring eyes, and at the top its sweeping sides flared out again to form the huge high-domed Watch Hall, the weary guard post for those same generations of High Guards.
Situated at the end of a long, weary and claustro-phobic valley journey, Narsindalvak offered nothing to entice a visitor but a continually howling wind and an unending view of the monotonous greyness of the plains of Narsindal, misty and miserable at their best; dank, sinister and dangerous at their worst.
For the High Guards, the dreary hours in the Watch Hall, staring through the polished stones that brought distant objects so near, were punctuated only by the long patrols along the southern borders and into the interior of Narsindal.
The former were to discourage Mandrocs from es-tablishing camps in the mountains from which they could raid the northern estates of Fyorlund for food and livestock. Very rarely however, were Mandrocs seen, although occasionally a patrol might come across the remains of a recent camp.
Figures bedded deep in Fyordyn lore, the Mandrocs were supposed to be the remains of hosts that had followed Sumeral, now confined forever to Narsindal because, unlike other of His followers, they were corrupted beyond redemption. Kindlier souls saw them as nomadic savages; vicious, admittedly, when pro-voked, but who would not be, scraping for survival in the midst of such harshness. None loved them however, and few inquired into their ways.
The patrols to the interior were ostensibly to exam-ine Lake Kedrieth where, legend had it, Sumeral-the Enemy of Life-had built his stronghold, Derras Ustramel, and had been there destroyed by the Guardi-ans at the Last Battle. However, while conditions around Narsindalvak and the southern borders generally, were unpleasant, in the interior they were appalling, and no one in living memory had ever actually seen Lake Kedrieth because of the ever present mists and the shifting, treacherous marshes that formed its shores.
Scarcely a year went by however, without one or two High Guards disappearing while on patrol in the interior, and this had helped make the gradual reduc-tion and final abandonment of The Watch easier. There was a faint uneasiness amongst the Fyordyn about the loss of this ancient tradition, but it found no focus, no clear voice and, apart from some of the older High Guards’ officers who saw the Narsindalvak tours as important training for their men, few came to its defence. Fewer still claimed to be sorry to see this ancient anachronism quietly discarded.
Now, to the Lords and most of the Fyordyn, Narsin-dalvak stood empty, deserted, and nearly forgotten. However, in this they were deceived, for as the High Guards had abandoned the great tower, another force had replaced them. The Mathidrin, the black liveried Guards formed and nurtured by the Lord Dan-Tor and now pervading Rgoric’s Palace. They did not keep The Watch.
Captain Urssain handed his exhausted horse to a guard and, stretching his aching limbs, stared up at the dizzying perspective of the tower, clearly visible today against a sky whose thin clouds were lit by a watery sun. Briefly he gazed around at the view. The dreary landscape faded, as ever, into the misty distance and, free now from the pounding clatter of his journey, he became aware of the moaning wind that eternally serenaded Narsindalvak.
Good to be reminded of what I’m missing, he thought ironically. Palace life suits me fine.
He marched quickly up the wide ramp to the re-cessed door now being held open for him, acknowledging the attendant Guard with a curt salute. Despite his considerable fatigue, he knew that his approach would have been noted days ago and that any delay now would find little favour. Within a few minutes he was standing looking down at his Commander, making every effort to keep the nervousness from his voice and manner.
Commander Aelang stared at the papers in front of him for what must have been the fourth time then, swearing, stood up. He was a little shorter than Urssain but more heavily built and with a menacing physical presence. Short-cropped red hair and a heavy-jowled jawline framed a sallow face that housed red-rimmed, pale grey eyes, a broad nose, and an incongruously voluptuous mouth.
He began pacing the floor. Urssain watched him carefully. Commander Aelang was not a man to be trusted. He was not only a devious, ruthless, and ambitious schemer, he was capable of considerable personal viciousness when the mood so took him, and his mood now looked decidedly uncertain.
Abruptly he turned, and snatching up the papers from his desk, waved them in Urssain’s face.
‘I’m supposed to act on these?’ he said savagely. Then, reading, ‘ "Commander Aelang. You will take the new deep penetration patrol and arrest the traitor Jaldaric of the House of Eldric-Rgoric, Protector of etc etc." Just like that?’ As he spoke he revealed the discoloured teeth and prominent canines that had earned him the title ‘Mandrocsson’ amongst the Mathidrin troopers.
‘They’re the King’s direct orders, Commander,’ Urssain replied reluctantly. ‘I don’t see any alternative.’
Aelang dropped down into his chair again, and motioned Urssain to do the same. ‘Relax, Urs. Sit down, you look exhausted.’
Gratefully, Urssain lowered himself into a nearby chair, quietly resolving that under no circumstances would he relax.
Aelang rested his head on his hand. Recent events had moved so rapidly that he had had little opportunity to think matters through. It occurred to him that this was all some devious test by Lord Dan-Tor. Or perhaps even the King. But nothing seemed to ring true. What was going on? What did the King know about the deep penetration patrol? Was he, Aelang, Commander of Narsindalvak, being used as a pawn in some power struggle between the King and the Lords? Aelang curled his lip. He was no man’s pawn, he was a player, albeit a minor one for the time being.
He looked up and caught Urssain’s eye. ‘Didn’t you try to dissuade him?’ he said.
Urssain returned the gaze steadily and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, without hesitation. ‘He never asked my advice and I wasn’t going to volunteer it. I was content to remember yours. Keep your mouth shut, your head down, and your ears open.’
Aelang waited.
Urssain continued. ‘ "Lock the Lords up on my sig-nal," he said. So I did.’ He shrugged. ‘It was so sudden I didn’t even have anywhere to hold them. I’ve had to put them in some old servants’ quarters for the time being. Then when I got back to the King, he was muttering something about the wolf and his cubs, and he just handed me those and told me to bring them to you personally, straight away.’ He indicated the orders. ‘Personally, mark you, no messengers. I was going to ask him why, but… ’ He shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward. ‘I didn’t think it would serve anyone’s ends to get myself arrested for questioning his orders, however stupid. And that’s what would have happened.’ He lowered his voice. ‘To be honest, I think he’s raving. I was glad to be away.’
He sat back to watch the effect of his report.
Aelang’s face however, was impassive, and there was a long silence before he spoke, ‘What about the other Lords’ families?’ he asked eventually.
Urssain shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘He said nothing about them to me.’
Aelang nodded and idly fingered the papers lying on the desk. Urssain was his man. He had taken consider-able pains to have him placed in charge of the Palace Guards when the Garrison was suddenly moved to Vakloss at the King’s behest. He too was a devious and ambitious man, but he knew where his best interests lay. And his assessment of Rgoric was remarkably un-equivocal. Aelang wondered if its very simplicity might not indeed cut through all the convoluted possibilities and uncertainties that were vexing him.
The Geadrol suspended, troopers were transferred to Vakloss almost overnight, and then called the King’s High Guards, of all things. Lords arrested, and now this! Could it be some unexpected move by the King against Lord Dan-Tor? That would be contrary to everything he had ever learned about the King. Could it be Dan-Tor using the King to precipitate some crisis? That was possible. Everything had the feel of Dan-Tor. But too much was happening too quickly, and too crudely. No. It was all too fast, too soon. Dan-Tor would surely never have sanctioned such crude action against the Lords. Certainly he would never have sanctioned the use of this particular patrol for a simple arrest. Perhaps after all, this was some aberration on the King’s part. Perhaps Dan-Tor had misjudged the King when he went off on one of his jaunts and the King had slipped his leash and was running wild, implementing schemes long planned for a later time. It seemed to be increasingly probable.
Aelang let the papers fall slowly back onto the desk. And yet to disobey this, a direct and personal order from the King. There would be plenty of people happy to profit from his making such a mistake; plenty to take his place, one of them sitting opposite him now. And, for all his judgment of the matter, he could well find himself the recipient of the Lord Dan-Tor’s anger if he disobeyed a direct order from the King. He swore again softly. Urssain was right; there really was no alternative.
If this is some folly of the King’s, then I’ll be judged by the way in which I put this order into practice, he concluded. Besides, practicalities always made opportu-nities of their own.
‘Where is this Jaldaric?’ he asked brusquely.
Urssain looked at him awkwardly. ‘He’s in charge of the patrol that’s escorting the Lord Dan-Tor. According to the King they’re heading south through Orthlund on some mission or other.’
Aelang’s cruel face almost smiled at the increasing folly of it all. This was getting worse and worse. He had put the right man in Vakloss. The King must indeed be raving.
‘When’s he due back?’ he asked, knowing the an-swer.
Urssain gave it with a shrug. ‘You know the Lord Dan-Tor better than I do,’ he said.
Aelang stood up and moved over to a map hanging on the wall. He stared at it for some time in the pallid sunlight that was washing into the room.
‘So we have to move the patrol right across the country and down into Orthlund of all places. Keeping it out of sight all the way. Then we have to take it through Orthlund, still keeping it out of sight. Looking for the Lord Dan-Tor, who could be anywhere, but who doubtless will be moving quietly along the very roads where we won’t dare to travel.’ He looked significantly at Urssain, but the Captain neither spoke nor moved.
Keeping your head down still, Urs, Aelang thought. Well, I’ve got a better use for you now.
‘This is going to be… delicate, Urs,’ he said pen-sively. ‘You’ll have to come with me.’
Urssain’s eyes narrowed briefly as old instincts came into play. Rgoric’s order meant trouble for Aelang and he did not want to be too close if it happened. On the other hand, Aelang was also a consummate survivor. He cut through his own debate by reminding himself that there was no way in which he could reasonably oppose his Commander, so he contented himself with a token resistance.
‘Yes, Commander,’ he said. ‘But what about the Palace? There’s a lot happening there, the King being the way he is. And Vakloss. There’s already some serious rumblings from the people about the King having his own High Guard. That’s bothering them more than the Geadrol being suspended.’
Aelang turned his pale eyes onto the captain and bared his teeth in a grim smile. ‘Captain.’ He empha-sized the word to remind Urssain who had won him his promotion. ‘With all this… activity, going on, it’s in our best interests to find the Lord Dan-Tor as soon as possible, isn’t it?’ The comment summarized all their problems succinctly. ‘And I need someone by me that I can rely on to handle that patrol. We’ll send a rider with a sealed message to try to find the Lord Dan-Tor and persuade him to head back, while we obey this order and follow-as slowly as we dare-with the patrol.’