* * *
The next morning General Samir looked out. The Aredorian camp was full of shouting, and men were pulling down tents as horses whinnied.
“Shall we let them go, General?” his captain asked.
“No, prepare the cavalry to charge,” Samir said.
“But, sir, they are leaving!” the captain protested.
Samir smiled. “You know what your trouble is, Jubair? You would show mercy.”
Askel, the Durnian commander, came to join them, breakfast in hand. “Maybe you should listen, Samir,” he said.
“Silence, you fool! What do you know of wars?” Samir shouted. He would have his triumph.
Askel shrugged. “Have your charge then. But I do not think it wise.”
“I don’t care what you think! You are here under my command to do as I see fit,” Samir said.
Askel shrugged. He did not remember the terms of treaty that way, but he had no love for the Calorins or Aredorians. He would see Samir humbled and there would be no cost to his own men.
The Calorin cavalry prepared their lines, and Samir joined them. They charged, reveling in the glory of hundreds of hoof beats. The camp gave the appearance of panic that gave way to ordered movement. Too ordered, Samir realized. He saw a cloaked figure standing fearlessly, the hawk perched on his wrist. Rage filled Samir, and he kicked his horse on. His men had no choice but to follow.
Corin gave the order, and his bowmen stood forward. But Samir would not give up, even as the Aredorians retreated and his men found the spears planted among the tents. Corin and his men mounted their horses, and he gave one last order. Fire arrows were released and found the oil soaked tents. The Aredorians galloped away, leaving the Calorins surrounded by flames.
Chapter 8
They rode into Kingscastle a day later after another ambush on a Durnian advance guard. Zephyr’s proud head drooped as a groom led him away.
Martin came down the steps to meet Corin. “King Darrin has called a council,” he said. “It’s about to begin.”
Karif fluttered down to Corin’s shoulder as they went inside.
“What’s the final report on the warband?” Corin asked. Since leaving the forest he had taken charge of the army and turned over command of the Hawk Flight. But his first concern was always for his warband.
“We’ve lost twenty men in total, and most of the lads are wounded in some way. Twelve of them won’t be able to fight and…” Martin paused for a moment. “Llewellyn took a spear to his leg on the last day.”
“Where is he?” Corin asked.
“Infirmary. Liam took care of him. I don’t know if Liam’s left there since we got back.”
“Have you slept?” Corin asked.
Martin nodded. “I just woke up so don’t worry about me. When was the last time you rested?”
Corin shrugged. “There hasn’t been much time.”
“Someone could have taken command for a few hours.”
“Like who?” Corin asked.
“Bedwyr is fully capable and if you weren’t so stubborn and would take care of yourself—”
“If you weren’t so concerned and annoying—” Corin interrupted.
“Someone has to take care of you, Cor.”
“I’m fine,” Corin replied, but his hand gripped the banister as they mounted the stairs. Martin refrained from replying only because they had arrived at the council room doors.
Corin sat at the table after giving his report. He only half- listened to the talk as he strove to stay awake. Finally he took out his knife and tossed it, catching and flipping it again—a trick learned from Nicar to stay awake during the late night watches. Those who noticed looked slightly nervous as they debated sending a messenger to the Clans.
“They came in the last war. Surely they will not want to come again!” one lord protested.
“This war affects them too. If we fall, then the Calorins will turn to Braeton,” Darrin said. “The Clans will want to stop them.”
“And what will we have to give in order to repay them?” another lord demanded.
“Which would you rather have? Your coffers or your life?” Maldwyn asked. “I, for one, would pay anything to keep our country free.”
“But we seemed to have fought the Calorins well,” a young lord who had fought with the army said hesitantly.
“Aye, you held them for weeks. Do we need help from those Braetons?” Lord Mabon asked.
Thump! Corin’s knife embedded itself in the table.
“We have hundreds, they have thousands!” Corin shouted as his thin patience shattered. “We held them for weeks, but do you even know at what cost? We need more men!”
“Are there no more men to muster?” Lord Siarls asked quietly. Lord Mabon looked angry at the defection of his old compatriot.
“The mountain keeps stand empty. Those lords not here are at Castle Martel,” Maldwyn said.
“What of the other garrisons?” Lord Siarls asked.
“We’ve emptied as many as we can,” Darrin said.
“And what of the others?” Lord Mabon asked.
“Held by farmers we trained to fight.”
“Then call them,” Lord Mabon said.
“For what?” Corin wrenched his knife from the table. “To get slaughtered? If they die then who will plant the fields or tend the forges and mills? They will be our last defense, and we have already taken their sons. Aredor has nothing left to give. We are too weak to fight this war on our own. We need help.”
One by one the lords nodded. They could not argue the harsh truth.
“How long do we have?” his uncle asked.
“Tonight at the latest,” Corin said.
The council ended soon after. Darrin sent for the best riders. They came and so did one more. Kara hesitantly knocked on the door and was given admittance. She came forward nervously in the presence of the lords, some of whom were surprised to see her. However, she ignored the arrogant looks of the other riders, none of whom served in the warband. She saw Corin’s approving nod and forced the words out.
“Have you chosen yet, sire?” she asked, barely adding the formality in time.
“No, and what argument would you make for yourself?” Darrin asked.
Kara cleared her throat. “This is a year of the Gathering, sir. I know where it will be held. All the Clans will be there, and as a member of Clan Gunlon I will have the right tae speak tae the Lairds. And, sir,” she said, greatly daring, “I know I can make it there, and so do you.”
Darrin smiled slightly.
“But she’s just a girl!” one of the lords protested.
“Aye, but she and her brother saved the war for us before, more than once,” Trey spoke up.
“I trust her. She can make it,” Corin said. Kara smiled. That was the highest praise from him. It also seemed to be enough for some of the men in the room. Only Darrin remained.
“Please, sire. For my brother,” she said.
Darrin finally nodded. Corin had told him of Kieran’s death, and they both understood the desire Kara had to complete the task.
“How long will you need?” he asked.
“I can leave within the hour, sir. I’ll need tae find a fresh horse and…tae say good-bye,” Kara said.
The room emptied until only Darrin and Corin remained with her.
“Do you know what horse you’ll take?” Corin asked.
“No, sir. I’ve nearly run Delyth and Gwennyd intae the ground,” Kara said.
“How long will it take you to get there?” Darrin asked.
“I’m figuring nearly two days.” Kara pointed to the map on the table. “The Gathering is held here, and most everything in between will be patrolled by Calorins.”
“I’d let you take Zephyr, but he needs a few days’ rest before he could make a run like that,” Corin said.
“Ride Frithun,” Darrin offered. “He’s fresh enough, and he can outrun anything with you.”
Kara knew Darrin’s horse was one
of the best in the stables, but asked, “Are you sure, sir?”
“Aye, but hurry before I change my mind,” Darrin said.
“What needs to be done now?” Corin asked after Kara left.
“You need to sit back down and eat. And then you are sleeping for as long as possible,” Darrin said.
“I’m—”
“No, you’re not. When was the last time you ate, or slept for more than two hours at a time?” Darrin interrupted, and Corin couldn’t answer. “You’re exhausted, Cor. Your leg gets worse when you’re tired, and you can hardly walk or stay upright right now.”
Corin could again make no reply.
“Come on. Sit down, and I’ll have something sent up from the kitchens.”
Corin didn’t argue and sat down, leaning wearily on the table.
Mera met Darrin in the hall outside the council room. He didn’t look surprised to see her.
“I heard he was back. How is he?” she asked.
“He needs rest and a hot meal. He’d be all right in a few days if there wasn’t another battle to fight,” Darrin said.
“May I see him?” Mera fought to keep the light blush from her cheeks.
Darrin only nodded and stood aside. Neither she nor Corin had said anything, but she supposed it wasn’t too hard for anyone to see.
Darrin pressed her shoulder before he left. “He couldn’t have chosen better.”
She gave a smile and pushed through the door. Corin barely looked up as she sat beside him.
“You didn’t leave with the others?” he asked.
Most of the women and children in the castle had left with the townspeople, putting a safe distance between them and the approaching enemy.
“I couldn’t. There was too much I could do here.” Seeing him like that almost frightened her, and she slipped her hand into his.
“I’m glad you stayed,” he said simply.
A serving maid entered with a tray of food.
“Can I bring you anything else, sir?” she asked as she placed it in front of him.
Corin glanced at the laden tray. “I’m sure I have enough here. Is there a famine coming that I don’t know about?”
The girl giggled. “And Miss Jenny wanted to send more.”
“Be sure to thank her for me,” Corin said. “How is your brother doing?”
“He’s doing well, thanks to Miss Mera,” she said. “And Catrin wanted to thank you for sending that letter.”
“How is she?” Corin asked.
“As well as can be expected with two little ones and her husband gone. I’ll tell her you asked.” She dropped a curtsey. “I should go, sir. Miss Jenny would never forgive me if I let your food get cold.”
“Do you know all the servants?” Mera asked curiously.
“Almost,” Corin said with a slight smile. “But I’m sure that’s not proper.”
“Since when have you cared about that?” Mera smiled back as she released his hand so he could eat. “Gwilym has been asking about you incessantly since Martin and Trey got here. He drew pictures for all of you after taking over your office.”
“He what? What did Gerralt do?” Corin asked.
“I’m not sure he knew how to react.” Mera laughed lightly. “But Gwilym wouldn’t stop talking so he had to let him stay.”
Corin shook his head with a chuckle.
“Oh, and you might check the desk drawers for a baby squirrel,” Mera added.
“A…what?” Corin set his beaker down before drinking.
Mera related the long, complicated story involving Gwilym and how the squirrel had taken up residence in the office. Corin laughed for what she suspected was the first time in weeks. But the lines of worry came rushing back as he finished eating, and one of the guards told him that Kara was about to leave.
She left him to return to her duties in the infirmary with a promise to see him later if time permitted.
* * *
Corin went down to the courtyard and joined Darrin. Frithun was led from the stable and brought to Kara. He lowered his head and took in her scent as she rubbed his forehead. She tightened the girth and quickly recited the message back to Darrin.
Warriors had begun to gather unobtrusively. They had heard the news; she was the last hope for Aredor. Frithun stood taller than Delyth, and Corin gave Kara a leg up into the saddle. He held the reins as she settled in.
“You’ll be fine,” he reassured her.
“Maybe, but I’m just scared stiff. I don’t know if I can,” she admitted.
“You’ve never let us down, Kara,” Corin reminded her.
“I know. But I keep thinking about Kieran.”
“Don’t,” Corin replied. “Don’t think about anything but the task ahead.”
Kara nodded, taking the reins in a trembling grip. He reached up and steadied her hands.
“When you get there, if you need any help with anything, find Aiden. He’ll know what to do,” Corin said.
Kara took a deep breath.
“Ride safe,” Darrin said. “And, Kara? I do want my horse back.”
She finally smiled. “Aye, sir. We’ll see you in a few days.”
The portcullis was raised, and the gates swung open. She touched her heels to Frithun’s sides, and he stepped gracefully forward. They rode through the empty town as the stallion’s hooves echoed off the paved road. There was a dull boom! as the gates closed. She spurred to a canter, racing away from the feeling of doom that had settled over the castle and town.
Corin went up to the infirmary. Mera and Liam were there and, to his surprise, Andras was as well. The young warrior was helping to assist another one of the healers. Corin greeted the men who were awake. Llewellyn was sitting up, and Corin went over to him.
“I leave you alone for a few days and look what happens,” Corin said.
“Thank you for realizing that this is your fault,” Llewellyn said. They both smiled.
“How’s the leg?” Corin asked.
“I’m surprised I have one left.”
“Aye, unfortunately he’s going to be here for a few weeks.” Liam joined them.
“I’ll be nice so long as I can walk like you promised,” Llewellyn said. “Or what, Andras?”
“He’ll crawl after you and kill you with a crutch,” Andras supplied.
“I knew I liked that lad,” Llewellyn said.
“Charming.” Liam rolled his eyes.
Corin smiled. “I’m so glad you all understand each other. Oh and, Liam? You look terrible. You are hereby ordered to sleep for the next few hours.” He wouldn’t let Liam protest, calling over a healer. “Take care of him and make sure he doesn’t get up without Lieutenant Martin’s or my permission. Drug him if you have to.”
“Drug me? After everything we’ve been through?” Liam asked.
“I can’t help it. I’m a general now, and the power has gone to my head,” Corin replied.
Liam couldn’t help a smile as the healer made him sit down.
“I’ll say,” Llewellyn muttered.
“And, Andras? Make sure he behaves. You have my permission to tie him down if you have to.” Corin pointed down to Llewellyn.
“Aye, sir.” Andras smiled.
“So much for thinking we were friends,” Llewellyn said.
“Aye, well, I’m about to leave before my brother finds me and provides me with an armed escort and more orders to go rest,” Corin said, and Llewellyn and those around chuckled.
Corin barely made it to his room, scarcely managing to take off his weapons before collapsing into the armchair where he slept.
Hours later, the click of his door opening wormed into his consciousness. He half hoped whoever it was would leave him alone. But he knew there was no chance when he recognized Martin and Andras’s voices.
“Aren’t you going to wake him up, sir?” Andras asked.
“Not if I want to keep my hand,” Martin replied. “We’ll do it the easy way.” He crossed to the bed, took a pillow and threw
it at Corin.
“There are easier ways you know,” Corin grumbled, pulling the pillow from his face.
“Stop trying to kill me every time I try, and I’ll consider it,” Martin said.
“I said ‘sorry.’” Corin opened his eyes.
“Get up, lazy. You’ve slept for a shocking six whole hours. Company’s coming.” Martin went to the wardrobe and pulled out fresh clothes.
Corin kicked off his boots and shrugged out of the mail coat, groaning as he did.
“You know better than to sleep in that,” Martin said.
“I swear it’s like listening to my mother,” Corin complained with a smile.
“Make sure to wash behind your ears.” Martin smiled benevolently.
Corin complimented him in Calorin as he limped to the adjacent room where hot water waited. While he washed and changed, Martin and Andras began to clean and polish his gear.
Corin soon rejoined them, sitting on the edge of the bed and rewrapping wounds with fresh bandages. They had brought food with them, and Corin packed meat and cheese in between slices of bread and began to eat while sharpening his blades.
He caught Andras flick a look his direction, eyes wide, before turning back to polishing the General’s belt. Corin stifled a smile as he ran the whetstone along the curve of his scimitar. He supposed it was a little odd for Andras to see him sitting barefoot on the bed.
Martin had noticed as well, and his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. Corin almost rolled his eyes at the hint of pride the look held. To those that knew him well, Corin had opened up so much since his return from Calorin. He was almost talkative and actually let emotions show. He was also better at not slipping back into Calorin if angry or agitated. But almost no one in the warband had seen him as relaxed as he was now.
Martin laughed quietly. “I think you’ve almost shocked him, Cor.”
Andras looked up a little sheepishly as Corin glanced his way.
“Sorry,” Corin said un-contritely. “I never got the rulebook for fearless leaders. Just don’t tell anybody.”
“I’m sure I have a copy somewhere, sir,” Andras said with something that resembled a smirk. .
Both Corin and Martin burst out laughing.
The Wildcat of Braeton Page 34
