Arms-Commander (52 page)

The east road was the longer route to Lornth, but shorter to Duevek, given the westward course of the River Yarth south of Carpa. It was also much drier and dustier, and reddish road dust rose and sifted through everything by mid afternoon on fiveday. Saryn had been practicing the skill of making small sliding order-chaos-shields on and off for two days. She thought she had a better technique that took less effort, but how long she could keep that up was another question once they got into battle.

“If it's this dusty farther south,” Saryn said to Spalkyn, riding to her right, “Henstrenn will see us from kays away.”

“Duevek sits on a bend in the river, with hills to the north. It's not as dry there, but the hills would shield us from view until the last five kays or so. By then, it shouldn't matter. One way or another, he'll know. He still has those mages, and some mages can tell from a distance when people are coming. He must suspect we'll attack, anyway, and he will have posted scouts on the roads.”

Did Saryn's ability to sense people from a distance make her a mage? Hryessa had as much as said that, but Saryn certainly couldn't throw fire-bolts.

From what she recalled, Duevek sat on a hill overlooking the main southern road from the Westhorns into Lornth, but she'd only seen the keep from the road below and from a distance. “What is the holding like?”

“I only saw it once, as a very young man,” returned Spalkyn. “It's on top of a low hill or rise, and it overlooks the town and the River Yarth. The Yarth is narrower there, but still not an easy crossing. The villa is all one story and extensive, but it is set within rather large and solid walls. So are all the outbuildings. The walls must be a good eight cubits high and two or three thick.”

Cannon would definitely help here, but with white wizards on the other side, they'd likely use chaos to blow the powder.
She frowned.
Is that why they never pursued gunpowder or the like? Or was the reason simply lost in all the centuries since the old Rats colonized Cyador?
“What about the gates?”

“The usual for a fortified keep. Heavy planks, backed with timber, and ironbound. The pivots and hinges are all protected by the walls.”

“So they swing inward?”

“Unless you have a moat and a drawbridge, what choice is there?” Spalkyn's question was clearly rhetorical.

Saryn wasn't about to get into portcullises and sliding slot gates and the like. She just nodded, idly wondering if she could use her order-chaos in some way against the gates.
You can't use it for everything. You're not strong enough or talented enough for that.
Again, it would be pick and choose…and hope that her choices were the right ones. “What if he just retreats inside the walls?”

“It's not as defensible as Masengyl, but I doubt Henstrenn will want a siege. He wants a victory, and sitting behind walls doesn't make him a leader. That would just erode his support.”

Given the brashness seemingly revered by the southern lord-holders, Saryn could see that.

“Also, he can't get his harvest in. So…if he stays inside the walls, we just start to burn fields until he comes out. If he doesn't come out, he loses it all, and that will weaken him both in the wallet and in terms of support with both his own people and the other lords.”

Saryn hadn't thought of going that far, but she could see the possibilities. Still…Henstrenn was the type to sacrifice anything and anyone to his ambitions.

“I'm glad you had those wagons. We can carry more rations,” said Spalkyn. “The spare mounts you captured from Jaffrayt and Kelthyn also help.”

With Spalkyn's words about the wagons, Saryn couldn't help but think about Hryessa's comments about Dealdron. While she had meant to talk to him on threeday, what with one thing and another, somehow she hadn't gotten around to it.
Was that because you really didn't want to?

Finally, while Maeldyn and Spalkyn were checking with their armsmen, Saryn rode back to the rear of the column, where, amid the road dust, Dealdron was driving the first of the five supply wagons. There she eased the gelding alongside the wagon.

“How are the drafts holding up?”

“So far, so good, Commander.”

“And the wagons?”

“There's one axle on the third wagon that's a trace unsteady, but it's holding so far. We have spares and extra wheels.”

“You've thought that out.”

“Wouldn't be much help if I hadn't,” he replied with a grin, looking to the team.

“You've been a great help wherever you've been,” Saryn said with a light laugh. “Even when you could barely walk with that heavy support and splint.”

“You made it clear I should be.” Dealdron's tone was on the edge of banter, and there was no sense of resentment.

“You don't sound too upset.”

The younger man shrugged. “You made me think about things differently.”

As he replied, Saryn realized something else. Dealdron's speech was better than it had been when he had first come to Westwind. “You've gone out of your way to arrange matters for me,” she said carefully, although she did not sense any of the other teamsters in the wagon, even out of sight. “I appreciate it. I truly do.”

Dealdron smiled easily, and she could sense a certain amusement behind the expression before he replied. “You'd like to know why? Is that why you're here?”

“I'm curious,” she admitted, wondering why she felt so guarded, but perhaps that was because she'd always had difficulty reading more than his surface feelings.

“You do your best to protect everyone else. You protected me from the Marshal. I didn't see anyone else protecting you when you were ready to drop from the saddle. I don't have very good arms skills, but I can make sure of…other things.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Dealdron looked at her and smiled warmly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You deserve it. I should have said more earlier.” After a moment, she said, “I need to head back.”

As she rode back to the front of the column, she could feel his eyes on her back, again, and a certain sense of worry and concern emanating from him. She couldn't help but feel touched, but she also worried that, in some way, he was putting her on a pedestal, and that he really didn't understand how much death and destruction she'd created.

Why should that bother you?

That was another question she didn't really want to answer.

Why? Because you might care for him? Because you really don't want to come off that pedestal?

And those were questions she also didn't want to answer.

Sevenday morning brought Saryn and the forces of the other three lord-holders to a position just beyond the hills north of Duevek. Maeldyn's and Spalkyn's armsmen were in the lead, with Saryn and the others riding behind the scouts and in front of the northern lords' lead squad. The green-blue sky was clear of clouds, but a faint silvery haze cut the light from the white sun just enough that the day was slightly cooler than those that had preceded it. As Spalkyn had predicted, Henstrenn had followed their progress in some fashion because a squad of armsmen was reined up on the section of road a half a kay beyond the last of the hills, waiting under a parley banner.

Saryn could sense no other armsmen nearby, nor did the outriders and scouts see any others. After making a scan with her order-senses, she sent her own first squad forward under Shalya to see what the Duevekan force wanted. Maeldyn, Spalkyn, and Zeldyan waited on their mounts with Saryn while first squad rode out, then returned.

“Sers,” said Shalya, reining up before the group, “the squad leader was here to deliver messages to Lord Maeldyn, Lord Spalkyn, and the commander.” She eased her mount forward and handed a sealed envelope to Maeldyn, then one to Spalkyn, and the last to Saryn. “He said he was instructed to wait for a response, but no longer than a glass.”

“If you would leave us to consider,” Saryn said.

“Yes, ser.” The squad leader rode a good fifty yards farther up the road to where first squad waited.

“I see that there is no missive for me,” observed Zeldyan. “That alone is a message.”

“Shall we see what stratagems Henstrenn has in mind?” asked Maeldyn sardonically. “Besides the obvious one of divide and conquer?” He held up the envelope, then slit it open with a belt knife.

Saryn didn't bother with a knife, but broke the seal on hers with her fingers, then extracted the single sheet of parchment, opened it, and began to read.

The signature was that of Henstrenn, and under it was a seal—that of the Overlord of Lornth.

Does he really believe he can do that?
Saryn shook her head. Regardless of whether she was successful against Henstrenn, there was no way that Lornth had the resources to hound and harry Westwind, precarious as Westwind's position might be, for year after year.
Is it designed to get me so angry that I'll do something incredibly stupid?

She finally glanced up and looked to the other two lord-holders. Maeldyn smiled ruefully. They waited for Spalkyn to finish reading his missive.

The heavyset Lord of Palteara lowered the parchment, then fingered his square-cut brown beard, finally shaking his head. “The presumptive Overlord of Lornth has offered me his daughter as a consort for my son and a pardon for my actions against him as lawful Overlord of Lornth. What did he offer you, Maeldyn?”

“Lord Keistyn's younger son as consort for my daughter. Of course, he's but eight, but he didn't mention that. Oh…and a pardon that won't mean much because, sooner or later, I'll be poisoned or suffer some sort of accident.”

“And you, Commander?” asked Maeldyn.

“The wrath of all Lornth no matter what I do, but neutrality with regard to Westwind if I depart the lands of Lornth immediately.”

“Not exactly the most enticing of offers,” mused Spalkyn. “None of them.”

“They weren't meant to be,” replied Maeldyn. “They're meant as justifications after we refuse them and are defeated and slaughtered so that he can say he offered us full redemption of some sort.”

“Then we had best make sure that we do not lose.” Spalkyn laughed.

“His messenger is waiting,” Maeldyn pointed out. “I think we should make him wait longer while we compose particularly irritating replies. Since we have no real choice, it cannot hurt to make him angrier. He doesn't think as well as he believes he does when he is upset.”

“That may be,” replied Spalkyn, “but I don't happen to carry parchment and pen on long rides to battle.”

“I do have a pen and ink,” said Maeldyn, “and I believe it will be acceptable to reply on the reverse of what he used.”

While Maeldyn was writing his response, Saryn rode forward to where first squad waited and reined up beside Shalya.

“Ser?”

“Send out a few scouts, away from the road. I don't want anyone sneaking up on us while we reply to Lord Henstrenn.”

“Yes, ser.”

As Saryn rode back toward Maeldyn and the others, she again tried to sense whether anyone was hiding nearby…or even approaching. So far as she could tell, no one was nearby, not besides their force and the parley squad.

Once she reined up, she reread Henstrenn's insulting note once more and mentally worked on a response until Maeldyn passed her the pen. Writing in the saddle with what amounted to a quill and an inkwell wasn't exactly easy, but she managed to write out her reply without any terrible errors or ink blots, then read it over one last time.

She signed what she had written, then held it for a time to dry. As she folded the sheet and slipped it back into the envelope, she frowned. Something wasn't right. She was sensing a fuzziness somewhere to her left…an almost-chaotic swirling, although she could see nothing.

That wasn't right. It was as though her eyes slid away from that patch of bushes that were barely waist high. She thrust the envelope inside her tunic.

“Maeldyn! Spalkyn! Use your armsmen to make the parley squad surrender or cut them down! Using a parley squad to conceal an attack voids any truce!” Saryn turned the gelding and rode back toward Shalya. “First squad! On me! Tight formation!”

Then she rode toward what she thought was the chaos–concealment shield, gathering and weaving order and chaos flows together, even while she drew one of the blades from the knee sheath, rather than from the easier-to-reach battle harness. Behind her, first squad formed a tight wedge. That was a gamble, because a tight formation would suffer greater losses if Saryn's shields failed, but she couldn't protect a wider formation.

She was almost a hundred yards away from the bushes when a fire-bolt arched toward her. Her first attempt at throwing a small sliding shield at the fiery chaos was successful only in that it redirected the chaos just enough that the mass of fire slammed into the sand and dirt less than ten yards in front of her, and she barely avoided riding into it.

Frig!

A second firebolt followed the first, but Saryn managed to deflect it without using much effort, as she did with the third. By then she was close enough to fling the short sword at the chaos-shaded form that she could sense, but still not see. As she released the blade, she added just a touch of order to the point, then smoothed its path and increased its force, using order and chaos.

Less than ten yards from where she sensed the indistinct chaos-mage, flame flared around the blade, and both blade and flame dropped to the ground.

Saryn launched a second blade.

The same thing happened again, but almost at the spot where Saryn felt the white wizard was. When the chaos flared away, so did the concealment shield, revealing a squad of mounted armsmen in brilliant red tunics with gold trim, their sabres ready, and starting to charge toward first squad.

Saryn threw the third blade, at less than thirty yards, directly at the wizard, attired in red as well, and then drew the fourth blade, trying to fashion a narrow and yet thin order-chaos-knife before she released it at the squad of armsmen.

The white wizard flung up a chaos-barrier of some sort, but the black-iron short sword slammed through it and into the wizard, and a pillar of flame exploded in all directions, just as the order-bounded chaos-knife sliced through the center of the red-clad squad of men and mounts.

Saryn guided the gelding right after the chaos-knife because she didn't want to get close to any possible survivors, not without weapons. First squad followed her lead, and the three armsmen in red who had been outside the range of the order-chaos-blade were so stunned that they went down under the short swords of the guards at the outer edge of the wedge.

Saryn could barely see through the dust as she reined up well past the fallen armsmen, but she immediately used her senses to check the area. She could feel no one, and she had only the slightest headache…and no lightknives stabbed into her eyes.

So far.
She'd have to eat something, though, and drink more than she wanted. That, she was learning from experience, helped greatly.

Were the red-and-gold armsmen Suthyan? She didn't know from where else they could have come.

Shortly, Shalya brought first squad back into formation facing Saryn. “No survivors, ser.”

“Recover everything you can quickly.” Saryn paused. “There might be one of my blades that's in one piece. There aren't any other armsmen close. Not now. I'm going to tell the other lord-holders what happened. As soon as you're done, if you'd report to me?”

“Yes, ser.” Shalya inclined her head.

Saryn took her time riding back, remembering to get out her water bottle and drink, and then eat several of the hard biscuits she'd slipped into a pouch at the top of her saddlebags.

As she neared Zeldyan and the other two lord-holders, she could feel a sense of nausea from the former regent, as well as from Maeldyn.

“Did you capture anyone?” asked Spalkyn.

“No. They were all dead after the first charge. Were the red-coats Suthyan armsmen, or did they belong to some lord-holder I don't know about?”

Spalkyn nodded. “The red and gold are the colors of Suthya. The traders believe in spending others' blood for their gold.”

Saryn reined up facing the three. “Since they supplied the mage and armsmen, I don't think there's much doubt that they're behind Henstrenn.”

“It didn't do them much good,” said Zeldyan.

“Not here,” replied Saryn, “but there are likely several more at Duevek, according to what we learned earlier.”

“How did you manage all that?” asked Maeldyn.

“We just charged them with cold iron,” answered Saryn before asking quickly, “What happened to the parley squad?”

“The moment you started to ride, they galloped off,” Maeldyn said. “I decided against chasing them at that speed.”

Saryn nodded. “That was probably a good idea. They might have had another trap planned along the way.” Henstrenn's ploy just confirmed to Saryn that the lord-holder of Duevek didn't respect either side of a parley flag.

“Another one of Henstrenn's bits of trickery,” declared Spalkyn.

“It would have worked if the commander had not acted,” Zeldyan pointed out.

“I don't believe you mentioned that you were a mage,” Maeldyn said dryly.

“I'm not,” Saryn replied. “I can't throw fire-bolts or things like that. I still had to use a blade to kill him. In fact, I ended up using four. The fire that exploded was his chaos against the iron of the blade.” That was an oversimplification, but Saryn really didn't want all of Lornth to think she was a mage. Not any sooner than necessary.

“Besides, how could any woman master magery?” added Zeldyan, her words coated with irony. “We certainly can't be trusted to master anything, can we?”

Spalkyn glanced from Zeldyan to Saryn, then to Maeldyn. He looked as though he might speak, then gave the smallest of headshakes and instead smiled ruefully at Maeldyn.

“I think we do have yet another answer as to whether Henstrenn could be trusted as overlord, or even to retain his current holding,” said Maeldyn. “I suggest we move forward before the good lord-holder of Duevek can come up with another scheme to delay us.”

Spalkyn nodded, as did Zeldyan. Saryn drank some more water and ate two more biscuits.

As soon as Shalya and first squad returned and reported, and the joint force began to ride toward Duevek once more, Saryn eased the gelding back to the wagons.

“Commander,” called Dealdron from the seat of the first, “I have your blades here. Four of them, if you need that many.”

Saryn eased the mount up beside the wagon with a wry smile. “I'll need all four. How did you know?”

“You use blades. I made sure I had plenty in the wagons for you.”

“What about the other guards?”

“They can do with one, if need be. If you are without blades, all will suffer, and they all know that.”

“You make me sound like a one-person company,” said Saryn as she took the first short sword he proffered, hilt first, and slipped it into the battle harness.

“No, Commander. You are not a one-person company.” Dealdron offered the second blade. “A one-person army, perhaps, but not merely a company.”

Saryn almost dropped the second blade before putting it into the scabbard in the battle harness. “That's absurd.”

“I think not. Why else would the Marshal send you to Lornth?”

“That's obvious enough. She doesn't want an enemy that close to Westwind.”

“That is most true, in both senses. Sooner or later, you would cross the Marshal. The later it happened, the more likely you would win. If it happened soon enough that the Marshal had to defeat you, Westwind would lose as well.”