The Forest of Peldain

The builders had clearly not reckoned on attack from this quarter. Octrago was speaking, and soon explained why this was so. “The fortress is excellently placed. It is perched atop a precipice and commands the path along the foot of this mountain range. Approached from the north, it is impregnable, and neither may anyone pass below it against the wishes of its guardians. Since there is only one pass over the Clear Peaks, and to reach it one must take that road, there is normally no way the fastness can be attacked from the rear. As military men, you will quickly appreciate the advantage that now lies in our hands, especially if we achieve surprise.”

“So that is why you made us suffer in these heights,” Vorduthe commented grimly.

“You will not regret it.”

“Then I was right!” Korbar burst out, raising his voice despite himself. “The other route was the right one!”

“No, you were not right,” Octrago responded icily. “You opposed me purely out of enmity. You had no knowledge whatsoever of which was the correct route to follow.”

“But you did lie to us. If it had not been for this plan of yours which you kept secret from us, we could have taken the easy path, which I presume would lead us below the fortress.”

“As to that I cannot say. The forest does extend round the Clear Peaks, as I told you. Whether it yet cuts off the pathway is unknown. No one has gone that way for a long time. How the guardians in the fortress would react is also uncertain. Were we spotted traveling toward the pass we would be stopped by means of rocks and poison fumes poured over the precipice. To be seen proceeding out of the Clear Peaks would no doubt occasion some concern, and puzzlement.”

“Why do you constantly deceive us?” Vorduthe accused. “Why did you not simply tell us why you wished to come this way?”

The putative Peldainian monarch shifted position on the cold rock before answering. “Have I deceived you? I tell you as much as it is good for you to know. Perhaps I should apologize for not being more open—I can only say that I act only as a king of Peldain is accustomed to behave. You are expecting me to alter the royal customs to which I was raised.”

He paused momentarily before continuing. “But to say I have deceived you is to put too much on it. Matters have turned out broadly as I promised. We are in Peldain, an accomplishment men of your nation previously thought impossible.”

A sour look crossed Korbar’s face. He seemed too disgusted to point out that the forest had destroyed a small army. Vorduthe shook his head and could almost have smiled. It was impossible to pin down this enigmatic man.

Just the same, he wondered if he would have been as patient had he not been constantly conscious of Octrago’s supposed royal blood.

“Well, you had better supply reasons now,” he said. “Who holds this fort, and why should we attack it on your behalf?”

“Because it is the key to Peldain.” Octrago’s voice became dreamy. “In that fortress is a much loved man without whom no king of Peldain can hope to rule for long, without whom the land itself may perish. My enemies hold him there. Our first task is to free him.”

“And just who is this man?”

“He is the High Priest of the Lake.”

“Then this is to do with religion?”

“If you like.”

“Tell us of this religion,” Korbar demanded suspiciously. “What is this ‘lake’?”

“It is a lake in the center of the habitable region. It is known as the Eye of Peldain.” Octrago smiled mysteriously. “For now, just take it that if we have the High Priest, Peldain becomes controllable. If not.…” He shrugged.

“We too worship gods, but they do not decide who is king,” Vorduthe ventured. “What gods do you worship, that are of such account?”

“Our god is mighty and must be placated at all cost. Well, are you with me? If you need further incentive, let me add that there is but one way down the rest of the mountain and that is through the stairwell whose head is within the fortress and which passes down the inside of the cliff.”

A familiar note of sly humor entered Octrago’s voice as he made this last remark and Vorduthe knew he did not intend it to be taken seriously. Yet for all the Peldainian monarch’s elusive way of speaking, he felt that matters were at last beginning to be made clear.

“Yes, we are with you,” he said. “How many men are within the fortress, and how are they armed?”

“Probably somewhere between fifty and a hundred,” Octrago said. “Most of the weaponry is aimed at crushing forces below the fort and so need not concern us. Personal arms worn by the soldiery will be broadly similar to your own: lances, bows and above all swords. Of course, we have no lance-men left, and Peldainian swordsmanship differs from your own.”

“Ours can prove itself,” Korbar growled.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“The men are tired, very tired,” Vorduthe said. “And they will be fighting on empty stomachs.”

“We shall rest, and attack after dark. As for food and drink, we have to fight for it.”

“And when we have taken the stronghold, what then?” Korbar demanded.