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Then said Wise Icar, “We must go from these plains to the hills in the north. There shall we be able to hold a lend safe from the Bowmen in the Iron Coats, and be far from the war which they pursue against the Little Ones and the Other People.”
Then the people gathered, and they numbered near five hundred, men and women, and many children as well, of the Hunter people as well as the farmers whose forefathers had fled the Old Island on the Night of Fire.
All these had united in an attempt to survive the war which was raging in the land. Far into the hills they marched, and established there the first of their villages.
On the night of the second clay from their arrival, they beheld in the sky the flare of the dread magic called the Little Sun, as it was released on the far side of the Mountains. Icar alone knew it for what it was.
“Here we stay,” he declared, “and hold these hills in peace, if it may be so, or by war if we must, but war shall not be of our seeking.”
-The Hill People’s history Randell Eagle-claw
Noon of the second day from the battle with the troll found Rorick crouched in the shelter of a bush at the crest of a hill overlooking a village of considerable size. From his limited and second-hand knowledge of the Hills, he guessed this ought to be Carill Don, the Chief Village of the Icarians, reputed to have remained faithful to their traditional friendship with the folk of the Plains.
He had been watching for some time, and had yet to see any persons in the village who looked to be other than Icarians. It might be, however, that Asbalnians in the Hills who preferred to remain inconspicuous might take on native dress. Carill Don was the most likely place for the Prince to be, though who could say for sure? With Icarians selling themselves to the barbarians.
It might even be that the fall of Avantir, Asbaln’s last fortress, would have brought the Icarians to acceptance of Hygerian sovereignty, and walking into this village might be walking into the hands of his enemies.
Grinning slightly, he said:
“Delay but weakens warrior hands,
Binds the heart in iron bands;
Are they friends or are they foe?
Wishing will not make it so.”
Standing, he tucked his hands into his belt and walked down toward the village. There were sudden noises of mild alarm, and he was met by a group of armed men.
They showed no hostility, only watchful caution, and he said, “I seek Prince Conel of Asbaln. Can anyone here direct me to him?”
There were mutterings among them, in their own language, which was that of the Derrakos of the Swamp, though with several Asbalnian words, usually pronounced in a fashion to render them nigh unrecognizable. One moved off, and went quickly among the huts; several others put arrows to bows and went back up the slope towards where Rorick had been hidden; the rest stayed watching him and waiting, occasionally to be joined by others.
Their clothing was mostly skins, though with some wool and linen traded from the lowlands. The men wore kilts and, occasionally, jackets, the women wore knee-length dresses. Their hair was worn Long, in braids, often decked with coloured feathers. The men bore a motley of weapons, spears, swords, and axes, though all carried bows and arrows.
Then a middle-aged man with greying hair pushed through the surrounding circle. “I am Orn, Chief of this village. What we can do for you?”
“I am Rorick of Avantir, guardian of the Sword, and I seek Prince Conel of Asbaln.”
“There is word Avantir is fallen.”
“Avantir is fallen, but I have brought the Sword hither to Conel. And have important news as well.”
“Would you indeed know the Prince if you saw him?”
“Unless the years since Dryx have altered him more than I think likely. And he will know me too. I think he will wish to hear the news I have for him.”
“And what news is that, besides that the last of Asbaln’s fortresses is fallen, and that his land lies helpless at the mercy of the Hygerians?”
“With respect, Chief, the news must be told to Prince Conel first. You will forgive my caution, but the King does have enemies.”
“The ‘King,’ as you call him, a trifle prematurely, has no enemies in this village. But he will tell you this himself.”
A young man, tall and blonde as Rorick, but more slender, stepped through the press. On his jacket was the Red Dragon of the Kings of Asbaln, but needed no such device to aid his recognition. “Milord Prince! Is it well with you?”
“As well as might be, hiding here while enemies roam my land unhindered. And the news that Avantir was fallen appears to mean that they shall continue to do so. While Avantir stood, there was hope; now there is none.” Suddenly his expression on changed. “I apologize, Guardian. The loss of Avantir will have meant no less to you than to me.”
“If an apology was needed, then I accept. But I think that all is not yet lost.”
“No, I see you have brought the Sword away. Yes, I remember being a very small boy when my father asked it be brought to the City of Coerl to allow Gunval Eagle-Sword to attempt to draw it. And I had seen Gunval in action; he was a man to be reckoned with, a warrior of prowess, though he was never one to bully, as happens too often with men who know the ways of weapons better than their fellows. And yet, he could not take the blade from its scabbard for all his strength.” He mused on that. “Did you know Gunval is said to have died trying to bring my father’s body away from the battlefield?”
“Milord, I bring you more than the Sword. You recognize it, so you can bear witness to this.” Rorick drew it from its scabbard and heard the gasp from the assembled Icarians as it glowed in his hand.
Conel smiled at the sight. “Ah, then the hero has come at last. This news shall be worth at least an additional hundred men.”
“How many men have you here, Milord?”
“Fewer and fewer. Five hundred came away from Dryx field. Two hundred of those left when Barons Ocar and Nedron went to see if they could raise a rebellion across the Mountains. We heard later when five of them came back that the two barons had died on the way when they met more Hygerians than they had expected. Then as time went on, and less of the land remained free, we lost more men. A few others came in, and we have around two hundred now, though we lost some when they offered peace to all the old barons who would come forward. Lucar and Indabar convinced Briga to go with them, leaving me with a few freeholders to serve as commanders. I must admit to having felt a small degree of pleasure when we learned that it had been a trap to rid the Hygerians of all the Asbalnian nobility. So far as I am aware, you are the last of the barons yet living.
“But you were asking about our strength. As I said, the fall of Avantir took the heart out of many; I have here two hundred men ready to fight, but that is too few.”
“It is enough to start with. And if we are able to recruit a few Icarians, I believe we can bring to us a larger force.”
“Aye? Then you know the secret magic of the Elder Heroes, that you will summon to your banner the trees of the forest as did Chael, son of Terich?”
“Not quite so easily as that, Milord; we shall have to depend on the might of mortal Men. Will any of the Icarians join us?”
“Aye, many of them, for some suspect the Hygerians will come into the Hills, now that the lowlands are conquered, and others seek to wipe out the shame they feel for those of their countrymen who forsook the ancient bond between our races. In the time it would take for me to raise my voice and ask, we could have fifty, and within seven weeks we could have five hundred.”
“It is well. Think on this, then. We cannot defeat a large force of Hygerians with much less than equal numbers. However, if we send out fast parties to raid, to destroy scouts and foraging parties, we can cut them down little by little without their being able to bring the weight of their numbers to bear.
“And, if we are able to field a small force of bowmen, all mounted, we will have a snail group able to hit and run before a garrison can organize to fight back. We can challenge their control of the lowlands nearby, and recruit more men on the strength of that, until we are able to meet them in open battle.”
“And where will these horses come from?”
“We will get what we can from our lowland herdsmen at the first and take them from the Hygerians later.”
“Ah, so you have thought of everything, then?”
“I have tried, Milord Prince.”
A swift smile lighted the prince’s features. “Formalities are for others. To you, I am Conel, and shall call you Rorick, and let the enemies of Asbaln beware. Would that my father had had counsellors of your sort. When had you planned to take the first horses?”
“Tonight, if it is possible.
“Aye, I think we might raise a small party for tonight. And I think it would be best if we do it secretly. For the longer it is before the Dark Ones suspect our plans, the better it will be.”
They found twenty Icarians who could ride horses, and that evening they went down into the lowlands. They acquired twenty horses, and remained in hiding until the next evening, camped in a grove of trees, eating cold rations. A patrol of twenty Hygerians rode by, and Rorick and his party watched in silence. When the dark-clad men were out of sight, Rorick turned to Conel. “We will not hide thus for long. Indeed, we will not be able to. You remember what that farmer said, the one from whom we got the last four horses? ‘I will do for you what I may, but if it should be that the Hygerians show themselves to be masters of the land, then I shall have to submit to their rule. I am not a man to let myself be killed for an ideal which is not attainable.’”
Conel nodded. “Too true. ‘In victory your friends are an army, in defeat only the dead support you.’ We may gather horses in this manner for a week, perhaps two, then they shall begin asking if we intend to actually fight, or only lurk in the Hills.”
From almost the moment they returned to Carill Don, the Icarians were practicing at horseback archery. As a beginning, they learned to shoot from a standing horse, eventually working from a walking mount. Even for expert bowmen, it was not a simple feat. Perseverance brought eventual skill.
About midmorning, a hunter came running in to report a small band of armed and armoured Asbalnians making their way toward the town. The report said that the men bore the upraised Sword on their shields, a fact which brought the Guardian of the Sword out expectantly.
There were ten of them, and their leader was a short, somewhat stout, grizzled man, whose quick movements belied the thickness of his girth. As they approached, the expressions on their faces went from disbelief to amazement to joy, then they stopped, drew well-used swords from their scabbards, raised them, and clashed them across their shields. Then they were crowded around Rorick and all talking at once, asking the same question in varying form.
It was their leader finally brought them to order, and Rorick then answered the question. “Yes, I fell from Avantir’s wall at the end of the fight, but fell into the water. I made my way through the Swamp to the Hills, and discovered on the way that it is for me to bear the Sword. Now, Beran, son of Ralf, tell me your tale.”
“When you fell from the wall, I led a band who were willing to try to fight their way out. Twenty-three of us attacked the gate, seventeen of us passed it, and we ten were able to reach the forest. Of course, the barbarians were more concerned to take the castle than to chase down small bands of fugitives, so they did not pursue far. We decided we would seek the Prince in the Hills to give him what aid we could. To the Powers, be thanks for your safety, Milord Guardian.”
“And for yours, Beran the Swift. Now come; we have the beginnings of an army here, and will need your experience.”
The two hundred lowlanders in the Hills at the time were the dedicated core of the greater number who had been there until despair and disillusionment drove them forth. The coming of the Sword was sufficient to prevent any further desertions, and indeed, a trickle of young men arrived seeking their Lord, Prince Conel.
And Rorick explained his new ideas to the men who would train the army, eventually convincing most of them of the efficacy of his methods.