Sasha (64 page)

“I wish I'd learned svaalverd,” Lynette muttered, looking at the ground. “Then I could have come.”

“Maybe one day the Nasi-Keth will spread from Petrodor,” Sasha suggested. Lynette blinked at her. “Then you could have an uman like me, if you wish. There's no limit on age.”

“One day,” Lynette agreed, wistfully.

Sasha smiled at her. “But not today.”

Two days north from Cryliss, the Shudyn Divide marked the beginning of the Aralya Range that separated much of the populated north from the rest of Lenayin. The Shudyn Divide was a ragged, uneven, rocky mountain face with many ridgeline ascents that looked both promising and treacherous in turn. The column now numbered nearly four and a half thousand, as a large group of Taneryn militia and most of the Taneryn Red Swords company had arrived the previous evening, with promises of more to come. If the column had been strungout before, it would now become much more so, toiling up the mountain rise.

By midmorning, the ride had indeed become a hard slog, riders dismounting in places to walk their struggling animals up a particularly steep or loose stretch. The road became little more than a narrow, rocky horsetrail, flanked increasingly by sheer drops that revealed a magnificent yet alarming view. Many times during the climb, Sasha turned in her saddle to look back down and marvel at the endless line of men and horses, nose-to-tail in her wake. By midday the column head had cleared the worst of the sheer cliffs and, while the trail remained steep, they were enfolded once more by pine trees. But then, within the space of a thousand strides, the weather changed.

At first it rained, then it blew hard and strong, bending the trees and snapping no few within range. Soft earth turned to slippery mud and riders tried to hold their mounts to grass or loose gravel; Sasha heard many curses and calls of warning or alarm from further down the slope. Then the mist closed in, enfolding the column until it was difficult to see more than five or six horses in any direction. They stopped for a lunchtime rest, men feeding hay or oats they had brought with them from Cryliss to horses who had little grazing room upon the narrow, precarious trailside. Water at least remained no problem, as the trail crossed small runoff streams frequently.

Shortly after lunch, the trail became level and wound its way along one side of a rift known as Galryd's Pass, for Galryd the Bloody had used it frequently, legend told, to wreak havoc upon Valhanan and beyond. It was reputed to be spectacular, but Sasha saw little through the mist, and was forced to imagine the great, looming peaks presently towering to either side. Far better than a view, it made for some of the easiest riding since Baen-Tar, and the horses moved with a relief that spoke of their assurance that their riders were not entirely crazy, to have chosen such a route. But then, all too soon, came the descent.

“I'd thought when we were climbing,” Sofy quipped, “that I'd like downhills much more than uphills. Now I see I like neither.” Amidst slippery rocks and poor visibility, most riders spent more time dismounted than astride.

Daryd had to urge exhausted little Rysha to walk, lest Essey slip and topple her onto the rocks. He stepped carefully from loose, slippery rock to rock, Essey's reins in one hand, his sister's hand in the other. Seeing him, Sasha felt the most intense admiration. Daryd had not complained once, and his first thoughts were always for Rysha. And Rysha, the cautious, less adventurous one, had perhaps been even braver.

Halfway down the mountainside, the slope eased enough to allow riders back in the saddle and the column emerged below the grey, misting ceiling. The sight was breathtaking, with vast, tree-covered mountainsides plunging from the clouds. Branches dripped and small rivulets of water carved lines across the trail. There were thick tangles of broadleaf amongst the pine that Sasha did not know the names of, and vines that crept up the bark of pines and sprouted little blue flowers. Strange birds sung in the treetops, their cries echoing across the foothills. She was in Hadryn, where she had only been twice before, when several two-thousand-plus Cherrovan incursions had outflanked the Hadryn cavalry and threatened Valhanan. Before her, glistening through a break in the trees, was the curling bend of the River Yumynis, flowing from the heart of the Udalyn Valley.

Men stood in the stirrups to gain a better view, marvelling at a scene most had only heard described in tales. Some pointed, others muttered oaths, and some made the spirit sign. Daryd exclaimed something loudly to Rysha, who cried out in delight. Captain Tyrun fell back to ride at Sasha's side as the path became barely wide enough for two.

“Ymoth,” he said, pointing through the trees toward a dark patch amidst the foothills. Sasha peered, straining her eyes. The Yumynis curled about before them, to the east it opened into Lake Tullamayne, which glinted dully beneath the overcast sky, flanked by mountains. That way was the Taneryn border, where more mountains rose. Beyond those mountains, Halleryn. So little distance had the Hadryn had to come.

About the western bank of the river's bend, the land rose in foothills that stretched from the base of the Shudyn Divide all the way to the valley mouth beyond, where they reared up once more to form steep, imposing sides. Another sharp range rose to form the valley's eastern flank, spreading from that narrow point as they progressed northwards, high ridges of treeless rock, linked in places by a dipping, sweeping spine that looked sharp enough to cut leather, swathed in cloud. Down below, nestled in the foothills upon the outer, western bend of the river, lay the town of Ymoth. Sasha caught a brief sight of green pasture along the riverbank, and a bridge. So beautiful, from this height. She had little faith it would remain so, once they were closer.

“What do you guess we are facing?” Sasha asked.

“It depends on how quickly their messengers moved,” Tyrun said grimly. “Far slower than ours, certainly—among the villages, messengers and horses can be swapped, and ridden through night and day in all directions. Any northern messenger has had to avoid the villages, has received no change of horse and has had little sleep. It's possible we are less than a day behind such a message.”

“And then the question is ‘What will Usyn do?’” Sasha replied.

Tyrun nodded, a ginger hand on the reins as they turned a downward corner, avoiding slippery rocks. “We could assume he learned this morning. In that case, had he moved immediately, his forces could be gathered at Ymoth now…if hidden in those woods, we could not see them from here.”

Sasha made a face. “That's a big force to move so fast. They'll have been encamped before the Udalyn Wall for a siege. Camps can tend to become permanent, and forces who do not believe themselves threatened are not prepared to move quickly…and they're not known as ‘heavy horse’ for nothing. The wall is at the valley's far end, and the valley is no short hike. Also, I'd not have thought it in the Hadryn's nature to hide in the woods. Heavy cavalry likes open space—I'd think he'd meet us on those fields beside the river. If he's here, we'll see him.”

Tyrun gave her a wary glance. “M'Lady is an optimist.” In a tone that suggested a learned distrust of such things, especially from youngsters.

Sasha shrugged. “Then I'll give you true optimism. I think Usyn is a crazed fool bent on avenging his father's death. I think he'll resist any request from his commanders to pack up and move away. At the least, that could gain us some time. When he does move to meet us, he'll also leave behind a portion of his force to keep the Udalyn contained behind their wall. He'll think to deal with us, then return to his siege. But he will not be at full strength when we meet him.”

“Perhaps the Udalyn have already fallen, M'Lady,” Tyrun said darkly. “Perhaps the valley wall is breached. The north has siege weapons…Hadryn in particular, one suspects, having dreamed of this campaign for some time. If that is so, we shall face the entire Hadryn force all at once.”

“The valley wall stands firm,” Sasha replied. “I'm sure of it.” Tyrun just looked at her, even more warily than before. “It must,” she corrected herself, with a resigned smile. “Otherwise, we'll have come all this way for nothing.”

“Must move fast!” called Captain Akryd of the Taneryn Red Swords from behind, having ridden past Sofy and Jaryd. “If we waste time scouting, that bastard Usyn will arrive in force! Certainly we can't camp overnight. It's now or never.”

Tyrun made a face, wrinkling up his moustache. Then he nodded. “We go immediately, no waiting.” And spared Sasha a faintly amused look. “Otherwise, we'll have come all this way for nothing.”

It began to dawn on Sasha what that would mean. A full charge into rolling terrain with plenty of ambush opportunities, without knowing what it was they were facing. She took a deep breath. “All right!” she announced, loudly enough to include Captain Akryd behind them. Akryd, she reckoned, would have been selected by Krayliss himself, as great lords typically selected the commanders of provincial companies. She hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid. “If it's not Usyn himself, it'll probably be Banneryd forces, largely those diverted from their path to Halleryn. At least one line company of heavy horse, more likely two, plus an awful lot of infantry militia.”

“I'd bet on close to a thousand horse, maybe two thousand infantry at minimum,” Tyrun agreed. Defender's advantage being roughly four-to-one, as Lenayin commanders traditionally insisted…they'd need nearly twelve thousand. They had less than half that. Damn. Even without the Hadryn, it didn't look good. With them, it would be a massacre.

“How strongly defended do you think the Ymoth wall will be?” Sasha asked Tyrun.

“Maybe some archers!” he replied. “No more than that. They'd be stupid to waste men on the wall, cavalry can't climb walls! They'll defend the flanks to stop us going around to the incomplete side of the wall. If they don't come out to fight, we'll have to go in and get them man to man. Ordinarily we could bypass Ymoth entirely, but if we tried it, we'd have no idea how strong a force remains inside to harass our rear when we head for the valley.”

Sasha shook her head. “No bypassing—we're trying to trap the Hadryn inside the valley, we can't afford to get trapped ourselves. If I were them I'd put infantry on defensible ridgelines with trees for cover all about the exposed side of Ymoth. We can't ride around that uphill side, it's too rugged. We'll need two thrusts, one to hit the near side from the river, and one to flank around the town and hit the other. That second thrust will have to pass along the riverbank and head back upslope…straight into an uphill ambush. We'll stagger it, a forward force to spring the trap then double back, the later one to hit them hard.”

“The girl knows her cavalry charges!” Akryd said with amusement. “What size the reserve?”

“Make it two hundred,” Tyrun replied. “Can't spare any more than that. M'Lady and I'll take the far flank—she can spring the trap, I'll break it. Yuan Akryd, you can lead the near-side assault. Don't stop for anything.”

“I shan't!” said Akryd, most cheerfully. “Sounds like a plan. I'll see you both inside!” And with that, he reined off the trail and stopped, waiting for his officers further back in the column to catch up to receive his orders. Sasha found herself somewhat unsettled.

“Aren't we supposed to plan a little more than that?” she asked dubiously. “Before the battle of Baen-Tar, Kessligh planned for nearly a full day.”

“This is a cavalry charge,” Tyrun replied, with a wry, twisting smile. “When you throw a melon off a cliff, do you plan to see which way it splatters?”

Sasha did not consider herself comforted.

Tyrun dropped back to talk to his officers, and Sasha allowed Jaryd to ride up alongside. “Did you hear that?” she asked. A part of her felt uneasy excluding Jaryd from the initial planning—in name at least, he was the Commander of the Falcon Guard. It was impossible to tell if Jaryd felt neglected. Lately, it had been impossible to tell if Jaryd felt anything.

“Princess Sofy and I shall stay with the reserve,” he said grimly. “I shan't be much use in a charge.”

“When the reserve is committed to the fight, stay with them,” Sasha insisted. “Holding back on your own will only make you a lonely target.”

“Sasha?” Sofy called from behind, anxiously. “Sasha, don't hold him back on my account. I'm okay, really…I think I'm getting quite good at riding.”

“Damn it, Sofy,” Sasha called over her shoulder, “I'm not doing this as a favour! You're far more a princess of Lenayin than I'll ever be, and you're valuable. I'll not risk an important asset of Lenayin if I can help it.”

Sofy stared at her, managing to look both crestfallen and angry at the same time.

As the trail wound though the lower foothills, Sasha found herself alone at the head of the column. She shouted for the vanguard to raise a canter where the trail allowed. They rushed along winding trails, flanked by thick undergrowth, the vanguard lowering their banners to avoid catching them upon low branches. A scout joined them, accelerating to ride at Sasha's side, his little dussieh frothing white with sweat as its little legs pumped to keep pace, the wild-bearded woodsman on its back assuring her that there was open space ahead and no sign of ambush.