The Dog and the Wolf by Poul Anderson

Author:Poul Anderson [ANDERSON, POUL and KAREN]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Science fiction
ISBN: 978-1-4976-9436-1
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2011-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

3

Six or seven miles thence, a watcher on a hilltop spied the signal. Wind tattered it, but surely yonder fire burned for a single reason. Shouting, he sped down the path that twisted among trees, to his village.

It was half a dozen huts on a tiny inlet where a stream ran into the sea. Its boats were gone. Men were out fishing. They would not return till sundown, if then. War or no, they had a living to haul out of the water.

Yet several craft like theirs lay drawn ashore. On the cove a larger smack rode at anchor, eyes painted forward on the black hull. Farther out was a merchantman, magnificent and awesome to simple folk.

The boy yelled and pounded on doors. Men came forth. Others stirred from boats or beach where they had idled away their days. Weathered countenances worked. Oaths rattled. “At last, at last. … Is it true, now? … Lir, I promise You the best of my every catch for a year. …”

“Avast!” bawled Maeloch. “We’ll go see!”

A number pounded after him up the hill. “Aye,” he panted, “no mistaking that. The King’s fighting. Quick and go to him!”

When they got back, Evirion Baltisi had had himself rowed in from his ship. He had spent the weary time of waiting there, often wishing he had stayed longer in Thule and come home too late for this. Better a bunk aboard than a smoky hut so crammed with visitors that a man couldn’t leave at night for a piss without stepping on them. Now eagerness blazed in him.

Maeloch was more matter-of-fact. They conferred briefly while the crews gathered whatever weapons they owned, launched their boats, hastened out. Women and children watched from the village. Most stood mute. Some waved, farewell, farewell, luck fare with you.

Evirion’s boat took Maeloch to Osprey. Her crew numbered more than the fishermen of old. She carried as many fighters as had been willing to ride with the skipper. Hence rations had grown short, tempers vicious, while yonder summons tarried. He’d begun to wonder if the damned Scoti would ever arrive. Staying here like this would hardly have been possible if it weren’t in territory which had been Ysan. To these uncouth and impoverished folk also, the city was their life. These days they hoped for protection by Audiarna; but they remembered.

The vessels stood out to sea and started west. They scarcely made a fleet, nine boats with five or six men apiece, Osprey with a score, and Brennilis. The ship was good-sized, her crew trained in arms, and a number of landsmen had joined them. As they traveled, two more boats slanted in to take part—fishers from the village who happened to see. It was their war too. Still, the force seemed a puny thing to throw at Niall of the Nine Hostages.

“A single slingstone ’ull do for bringing any wolf down,” Maeloch growled into his beard.

He stood in the bows, watchful. Waves chopped leaden, streaked and crested with white. The smack rolled, plunged, groaned to their thud and splash against her.

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