will ride alongside you. Tomorrow, while I’m sure he will try to be his usual inconspicuous self, he will be very close at hand. If there is any problem, you can trust him implicitly. He’s a good man.”
Chapter 6
It was the white room again. No visual clues as to where he was but always the voices murmuring in the background. He strained his ears to listen.
“What do we tell him about the mission?”
“The absolute minimum. He’ll have to know the objective of course but not the significance of the target.”
“How will he recognise…?”
“He’ll have to have that as part of the mission objective.”
“What about his other… abilities?”
“Tricky. We’ll suppress what we can of his technical knowledge and training but we have to leave him something in order to do his job. We’ll just graft a new skill set on top that’s appropriate to the environment.”
“Will it work?”
“Absolutely. He won’t know he’s not native… at first.”
“At first?”
“Depends how long he’s down there. Over an extended period, there’s a risk that some of the suppressed memories may leak back to the surface. If he suffers any breakthrough, it’s the telepathy area where it’s most likely to occur.”
The white dreams had come back again and David woke in a sweat before dawn. Carefully extracting himself from between Mo and Leyla, he quickly dressed and pulled a cloak around his shoulders against the chill of the pre-dawn air. Stepping outside to clear his head, he did the rounds of the sentries, stopping to exchange a few words with each as he passed.
As he approached the final post, he met Feynor doing the rounds from the opposite direction. “You should be resting, my friend.”
“As should you, milord. Busy day today.”
“Will it be action today, milord?” the sentry put in.
David smiled. “Don’t be too eager. I won’t know until we get there and I can see how the land lies. We need to take them by surprise and, if we can’t ambush them during the day, then it’ll have to be a night attack.”
They all fell silent at that. A night attack always carried increased risk of casualties in the confusion; of friend striking friend instead of the enemy. They had discussed the options for a couple of hours the previous evening until David had dismissed them to get some rest. There was nothing more to be done until he could see the land and choose where to fight.
At the urging of his officers, he had appointed another lieutenant, Jorgen, to take charge of the spearmen and those others who did not fit easily into one of the more specialist categories. The move had been welcomed by the men as Jorgen was a popular figure in the camp, full of good humour and as strong as an ox.
“I’m going to exercise,” he announced. “And then we’d better start rousing the camp. Cold breakfast today but make sure they all pack some travel rations. It’s going to be a long day.”
***
In the same pale pre-dawn light, two heads peered out from behind a bush at a sentry standing not twenty paces away.
“Why doesn’t he move?” Baltur whispered. “He’s been moving round all night, patrolling the camp and now he suddenly stops dead, right in front of us.”
“Keep your voice down,” Jeren replied. “Some of these old soldiers develop a sixth sense for danger. They don’t know what it is but they know it’s there. Old Marvin told me that once and he fought in Duke Charles’ army for twenty years. There’s no help for it. We’ll have to go round him.”
From a position about fifty paces further back, Jerome watched the interchange with interest. He had declined to leave when the other scouts relieved him in the middle of the night, preferring to rest up and ride out in the morning. That is, until one of the others woke him to say that the boys were on the move. He left the scouts on watch over the camp and silently followed the boys approach.
The boys backed away from the bush
Chapter 6
It was the white room again. No visual clues as to where he was but always the voices murmuring in the background. He strained his ears to listen.
“What do we tell him about the mission?”
“The absolute minimum. He’ll have to know the objective of course but not the significance of the target.”
“How will he recognise…?”
“He’ll have to have that as part of the mission objective.”
“What about his other… abilities?”
“Tricky. We’ll suppress what we can of his technical knowledge and training but we have to leave him something in order to do his job. We’ll just graft a new skill set on top that’s appropriate to the environment.”
“Will it work?”
“Absolutely. He won’t know he’s not native… at first.”
“At first?”
“Depends how long he’s down there. Over an extended period, there’s a risk that some of the suppressed memories may leak back to the surface. If he suffers any breakthrough, it’s the telepathy area where it’s most likely to occur.”
The white dreams had come back again and David woke in a sweat before dawn. Carefully extracting himself from between Mo and Leyla, he quickly dressed and pulled a cloak around his shoulders against the chill of the pre-dawn air. Stepping outside to clear his head, he did the rounds of the sentries, stopping to exchange a few words with each as he passed.
As he approached the final post, he met Feynor doing the rounds from the opposite direction. “You should be resting, my friend.”
“As should you, milord. Busy day today.”
“Will it be action today, milord?” the sentry put in.
David smiled. “Don’t be too eager. I won’t know until we get there and I can see how the land lies. We need to take them by surprise and, if we can’t ambush them during the day, then it’ll have to be a night attack.”
They all fell silent at that. A night attack always carried increased risk of casualties in the confusion; of friend striking friend instead of the enemy. They had discussed the options for a couple of hours the previous evening until David had dismissed them to get some rest. There was nothing more to be done until he could see the land and choose where to fight.
At the urging of his officers, he had appointed another lieutenant, Jorgen, to take charge of the spearmen and those others who did not fit easily into one of the more specialist categories. The move had been welcomed by the men as Jorgen was a popular figure in the camp, full of good humour and as strong as an ox.
“I’m going to exercise,” he announced. “And then we’d better start rousing the camp. Cold breakfast today but make sure they all pack some travel rations. It’s going to be a long day.”
***
In the same pale pre-dawn light, two heads peered out from behind a bush at a sentry standing not twenty paces away.
“Why doesn’t he move?” Baltur whispered. “He’s been moving round all night, patrolling the camp and now he suddenly stops dead, right in front of us.”
“Keep your voice down,” Jeren replied. “Some of these old soldiers develop a sixth sense for danger. They don’t know what it is but they know it’s there. Old Marvin told me that once and he fought in Duke Charles’ army for twenty years. There’s no help for it. We’ll have to go round him.”
From a position about fifty paces further back, Jerome watched the interchange with interest. He had declined to leave when the other scouts relieved him in the middle of the night, preferring to rest up and ride out in the morning. That is, until one of the others woke him to say that the boys were on the move. He left the scouts on watch over the camp and silently followed the boys approach.
The boys backed away from the bush
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