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Look to your arms, ye men of the West;
Put your hand to the sword and the bow and the shield;
Come to your rightful King and Lord,
Come from the wood and the herd and the field.
Men of the Mountains, Men of the Sea,
Your land needs your service, your Ring calls you forth;
Many indeed are the foes that face you;
Take shield, take sword, and face to the North!
-Anonymous poem of Asbaln
They set about other activities as well, trying to find out how the fort at Virden was built, and what its garrison was, and in farther areas seeking to discover what strength the Hygerians could muster against them. An interesting fact emerged; King Razak could not seem to convince his nobles of the danger from the Hills. They would send a few men to him under a commander, but would not come themselves, considering the war to be over.
Small bands of Asbalnians took it upon themselves to harass the Hygerians, some out of loyalty to the King, others simply for the loot they might get from it. The Hygerians, when they could find the perpetrators of such deeds, dealt harshly with them. Sometimes when they could not find the perpetrators, they would deal harshly with the nearest village or farm, as a warning. In any case, it prevented them from putting their full force against Conel and Rorick, lest the entire land rise up behind them when their heavy hand was removed.
But in a short time, five hundred more infantry were marching toward the Hills, supported by three hundred cavalry. The battle to come would not be an easy one. Skirmishes between patrols from the Hills and patrols from Virdan became more and more frequent. Every horse that could possibly be acquired was gained, and colleagues of the Harvatai horse-trader came prepared to sell. Whenever their prices could be met, they were, for the Harvatai horses were usually excellent beasts.
One day, a messenger riding for Virdan was intercepted, and his message brought in. It was written in the Hygerian runes, and the fact that it was written suggested its importance, for this meant that it was not being trusted to the memory of the bearer. The chief magician in the Asbalnian camp, an old man known only as the Old One, was known to have some small skill in the matter of languages, so it was brought to him.
He opened the parchment and looked at it, then at the group of men before him. “It is written in Hygerian runes, but not in the Hygerian language.”
“What does that mean?” asked Randell.
“I know the Hygerian language. I know their writing. The symbols are Hygerian, the language is not...wait!” A smile broke over his features. “It is the Hygerian language, but with the letters changed about: Allow me to take some time with it and I shall tell you what it says.”
“Do so, and you shall have our gratitude. It is most clearly something intended to harm us, and if we can be forewarned, so much the better.” Rorick bowed, and they left the magician to his work.
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THE PRESENCE OF CAVALRY with the Hygerian force advancing on them limited the effectiveness of their typical harassing tactics. Though the Hygerians did not have any mounted bowmen, their cavalry were mobile enough to keep the Horsemen at sufficient distance that the infantry did not suffer heavily. They managed some raids on the enemy while they were camped, very swift attacks which generally served mostly to prove that they were still willing and able to fight.
But arrows were cheaper than men, and from ravines, bushes, rocks and trees, Icarian arrows flew. The watchful Hygerian cavalry, riding to avenge such ambushes, usually found only the places once occupied by the bowmen, and occasionally heard the mocking laughter of the retreating Horsemen.
On the night before they marched forth to battle, Rorick addressed the infantry.
“Tomorrow, you go to your first battle, for which you have waited with such patience.” There was laughter here, for it was common knowledge that the men had been in bad temper for some days, awaiting this battle. “We have shown you how to fight in ways strange and unusual to you. Let us hope that they will be as strange to the Hygerians. You will be outnumbered here, though not so seriously as you will likely be in future battles, and the Hygerian is a fierce fighter, fearing nothing under the sun. Remember that your people on the plains depend on us to win this battle, and that if we win the battle, it will be a beginning.
“Too long now have we known the rule of a people who do not rightly know what a city is, nor a road, not a proper farm. Too long have they taken from us what they would, and left nothing but bitterness. But now shall the bitterness be many times repaid. Victory to Asbaln with Conel!”
The war-host roared out its response. By now, after many weeks of practicing theorized tactics against imaginary enemies, the burning flame of pride and anger which had driven them to the Hills to fight for Conel was beginning to wane. But the prospect of battle in the morning brought it out in a blaze.
Even the few older men among them, with good cause to know what a battle meant, were caught up by the high spirits. They gave three loud cheers for the Prince, three more for the Guardian, then went back to their quarters to prepare for the morning. As they walked back from the gathering-place just outside the village, Helana came out to meet Rorick.
“So you go to battle again tomorrow?” She tried to keep the worry from her voice and eyes.
“Aye, it is the first battle for the infantry. Few of them have any experience, but they are all good lads.” Seeing her concern showing through, he said, “I have worried more about battles than this. And why should we even speak of the subject, you and I? There are more pleasant things to discuss.” She smiled briefly.
They strolled across the face of the hill, quietly talking of this and that. He was half-listening to her, watching the light evening breeze ruffle her long brown hair, when something loomed over the crest of the hill. He turned, reaching for the Sword, and saw a troll coming at them. At the same moment, another troll came round the side of the hill toward them.
He shouted at Helana, “Go on, get back to the village!” One man might fight a troll, but two were too many. She turned to run, but caught her foot in a loop of root and fell.
Rorick sidestepped a rush from the first troll, noticing as he did so that this troll was smaller than the first one he had fought. He chopped into the beast’s leg and turned to meet the second one. The second troll was no larger than his comrade, but still larger than Rorick. He sprang, arms spread.
Rorick went down on one knee, thrusting up end forward with the Sword. In that same instant, the glow of the Sword heightened to a flaring brilliance, then disappeared. The beast impaled itself on the blade, and Rorick rolled aside as the troll fell where he had been. With a jerk, he brought the Sword free.
In the instant of time he had before he must turn to his other opponent, it seemed to him that the dead troll’s face had relaxed into an expression of long-sought peace. The first troll’s injured leg was fully healed now, and he came forward in a series of little feinting hops, apparently trying to make Rorick swing with the Sword and open himself to the troll’s attack.
Then, without warning, the green monster stepped in fast and swung a huge fist. Rorick ducked under the troll, thrusting upward with the Sword. Again came the flaring brilliance, swiftly fading, and the Sword thrust home. Even as it did, the troll was swinging its other arm. Rorick tried to dodge, but it caught him glancingly on the side of the head, and he fell beside the dead troll.
By now Helana had freed herself from the grasping root, and fearfully approached Rorick. She found him alive, but unconscious. Quickly, she went into the village to get help in bringing him back. When they carried him back, they found that his hand would not relax its grip on the Sword, so that they had to carry both back together. In spite of the fears of some, he soon recovered, and went out to walk among them to stop any rumours that he was injured, dead, or dying.