As soon as everyone was ready, Kel signaled them to move out along the riverside trail. Merric rode beside her. For a mile or so he was quiet. Suddenly he asked, “The Chamber of the Ordeal?”
Kel nodded.
“You said you talked to it before we left Corus. You—you went inside?”
Kel nodded a second time.
“You went into the Chamber a second time.”
Looking at her friend, Kel sighed. “I had to.”
“And you’re allowed to talk about it? Your Ordeal?”
“Not the Ordeal,” Kel said patiently. “It said I could talk about the second time, the task it set me, if I could find anyone who would believe me. Do you believe me?”
“I have no idea,” replied Merric, his face troubled.
“Then we don’t need to keep talking now,” Kel pointed out. “That would be a good thing, seeing’s how we’re in enemy territory. Don’t you think so?”
Merric took the hint and returned to his place in the column.
Two miles of brisk riding brought them to the wide, mangled grassy verge where six large flat-bottomed boats had been pulled onto the land and covered over with branches. Kel’s instinct was to put holes in them in case the enemy meant to use them for the assault on Mastiff. At the same time, she knew they could be used to take the refugees home.
The three-quarter moon settled her mind: it was edging toward the treetops. They had to ride now. They were in the open and needed to find cover before moonset.
Raising her hand, she signaled her people to follow and turned Peachblossom. They rode down the broad, messy path left by raiders, wagons, and horses. It led northeast, toward the rise of the bluffs, deeper into Scanra. High overhead, moonlight glittered on Stormwing feathers and claws as a lone scout flew overhead.
June 8, 460
Scanra,
between the Vassa
and Smiskir Rivers
fifteen
ENEMY TERRITORY
They followed the refugees’ trail across the Vassa road to the foot of the bluffs, where an unpleasant surprise awaited them. Beside the trail the raiders’ mounts had left, five dead people hung from trees. Into the ground before them someone had thrust a plank of oak with a sign cut into it: “Rebellious Slaves.”
Kel knew them, of course, even with their faces swollen and dark from being hanged. Two were a husband and wife from Riversedge, both smiths. One was a convict soldier from Gil’s squad, one a Tirrsmont man who was forever losing his temper. The fifth was Einur, the cook.
They cut the bodies down and covered them with leafy branches. There was no time to dig graves. Kel tried to speak the prayers for them and failed. She had liked Einur. He’d been one of her first supporters at Haven, someone she knew would always be honest with her. It was Neal who finally prayed.
They rode on along the foot of the bluffs until Kel called a halt at a place where the trees at the base of the rising stone offered plenty of cover for them and the horses. Once the animals were tended, they worked out guard watches and settled for what remained of the night. Kel thought that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Heartsick over the dead and worried about the time and distance they had lost, she hadn’t known how exhausted she was. The moment she pulled her blanket over herself, she was asleep.
Tobe woke her around dawn. Kel blinked at him and thought of a new concern. “Did I talk in my sleep?”
“No, lady,” he assured her.
“It could be that now you’re on your way, you’ll stop dreaming about it,” Dom pointed out from nearby. He was cutting slices of cheese and cold sausage: no one wanted to risk a fire in enemy territory. The rest of the men were up and about, eating their cold breakfast as they fed and saddled the horses. One of the convict soldiers skinned rabbits as the dogs and cats waited patiently so they could eat, too.
They’re getting spoiled, Kel thought as she cleaned her teeth as best she could. Next thing you know, they’ll start thinking we’re their pets. She combed her hair, then got out the maps. If she had judged their crossing and the direction of the refugees’ trail properly, she and her friends were tucked into a broad angle formed by the Vassa road and the Smiskir road, which followed the river of the same name, a tributary of the Vassa. Now that Stenmun was in home territory, he would be relieved of the need to move secretly and quietly. Judging by what she saw of his trail from her camp, he was headed straight for the Smiskir road. She folded her maps, accepted cold sausage and cheese from one of the men, and mounted the already-saddled Hoshi. Tobe immediately hauled himself into Peachblossom’s saddle.
“Doesn’t it hurt you to ride him for so long?” Kel asked, seeing the boy’s feet didn’t come near the stirrups.
“He don’t mind if I fidget, long as I don’t fall off,” said Tobe, patting the gelding’s neck. “If it gets too bad, I ride sidesaddle.”
“You could ride a packhorse,” Esmond pointed out. “They’re smaller.”
Tobe shook his head. “Thank you, sir, but me’n’ Peachblossom do fine.”
“Suit yourself,” Esmond replied with a shrug, then mounted his own horse.
Kel sent animal scouts out in a wide circle around her group and placed humans on either side to look for things the animals might deem unimportant. She then led her column of men single file over the ground already covered by the refugees to ensure that enemy patrols would confuse their tracks for those of the refugees. On they rode through forests that looked the same as those they had ridden through the day before, hearing the same kinds of birds, seeing the same kinds of trees. Kel realized that she’d expected things to look different once they were in another country. She shook her head. The land didn’t change because humans divided it with an invisible line. Birds weren’t stopped from going where they must for food, and the Scanran side of the Vassa ran as hard, fast, and cold as the Tortallan side.
She also knew she should not let the similarities in countryside soothe her. The rocks and trees might look the same, but she and her men were in enemy territory, far more so than when they’d been on the smugglers’ land. She was especially wary, as if the trees might have eyes. Every twig snap, every rustle in the bushes, was a hunter in search of supper, a farmer’s child looking for mushrooms, or an enemy scout.
A glimpse of bright color grabbed her attention. With a thin smile, Kel leaned down from the saddle and plucked a bit of red yarn from the end of a twig. “That doll will be as bald as an egg by the time we find Meech,” she murmured to Neal.
He grinned. “They’re tough, those young ones,” he remarked, his voice also quiet. “It amazes me, how tough they are.”
Kel sobered immediately, remembering Blayce’s workroom and a white shape that called “Mama?” Their young people would have to be tough, to get away from the mage and his dog, Stenmun.
They reached the Smiskir road by the time the sun was clear of the eastern mountains. Kel had worried that her quarry’s tracks might be lost among others on the road, but it seemed five hundred people and their guards were enough to make an impression even on a major highway. Jacut, the human scout on their group’s left flank, found a game trail that paralleled the road: they could ride there with trees and brush to hide them from passersby.
The sun was halfway up the sky when sparrows came back to warn them of the approach of twenty-five enemy soldiers. Owen, the scout on Kel’s right, on the far side of the road and well ahead, came right behind the birds. He risked a dash across the open road to reach Kel.
“We’ve got company,” he said, eyes blazing with excitement as he reined in beside her. “They’re hard men, fighters. Five carry shields. Weapons are long-axes, spears, and swords. I think they’re bound for Mastiff, right, Happy?” The stallion, scenting battle, snorted and pawed at the earth.
“Don’t let him do that. Brush it away. People will be able to tell we were here,” Kel said absently. Owen tugged Happy away from the spot and dismounted to sweep the mark away with a branch.
Kel looked at h
er men. All together, they outnumbered the enemy, barely. A fight seemed unwise; she might lose some of her people. They could hide from the oncoming scouts—there had been another road a hundred yards back that would keep them away from the warriors.
If they avoided the enemy, where did that leave them? This war party and their supplies might turn the course of battle in the attack on Mastiff. She’d bet her shield the Scanrans were headed there. She owed it to Wyldon to reduce the Scanran numbers if she could. Moreover, if she and her men found her refugees and freed them, they would have to ride back this way, with this Scanran war party between them and the Vassa.
If they fought the Scanrans, they’d have to kill all of them. They couldn’t risk one man getting away to cry the alarm. They dared not take prisoners who might escape. But surely it would be murder, if a man lay on the ground and begged for his life.
Her lips trembled. She had not set out to kill every man in a group simply because they were in her way. What did that make her?
She realized she was rolling something between her fingers: the red yarn she’d taken from the bush not so long ago. That settled her mind, though what she was about to do would haunt her all her life. So much thinking and feeling in so few breaths of time, she thought, knowing that it had only been that long since Owen had brought his news.
She hand-signed the men to prepare to fight. “Jump,” she whispered. The dog trotted over to Hoshi. Kel dismounted, beckoning for Tobe to take the mare. She knelt and looked into Jump’s tiny, triangular eyes. “I hope you really do understand what you’re told,” she remarked. “There are enemy scouts riding in the woods on either side of the road. You and the others must take them. Hamstring the horses if you must, but don’t let them escape. Get their riders on the ground. Kill them if you can, or fetch one of us. Understand?”
Jump whuffed quietly, his agreement noise. He turned and trotted into the brush, a cluster of dogs and cats at his back. Kel straightened. The men had gathered around her. She checked the fit of her armor as Tobe waited, holding her glaive and helm. “The animals will tend to the scouts, I hope,” she said, keeping her voice low as she tested each strap and buckle. The other knights did the same. “Dom, you and your boys get behind the men on the road, like yesterday. Esmond, go with them to hold the enemy at the rear. If you don’t mind, let Dom give the orders—he’s been fighting longer than either of us.” Esmond and Dom nodded. Kel went on, “Wait till you hear noise from the front before you start shooting. Don’t let the horses get away”—she gulped, then continued—“and don’t let a man get away. Not one, do you understand? Get the dead off the road as soon as you can. Nari, Quicksilver?”
The sparrows fluttered over to Kel. “Take some of the flock. Get in front of Dom, further down the road. Warn him if anyone else comes.” The sparrows darted away. Dom and his men mounted and rode off after the birds. “Uinse, take your lads to the far side of the road, get into the trees with your bows. Seaver, you’re with them.” The six men didn’t wait; they hurried to cross the road before the enemy came in view. “Owen, Neal, Merric,” said Kel, “you’ve got this side of the road. Neal, do not heal anyone. Do you understand me?” She held his gaze until he lowered his eyes.
“I understand,” he replied huskily.
“I’m sorry,” Kel whispered, resting a hand on his arm. The two knights and the squire mounted up. “Tobe, stay with Neal, do as he tells you,” ordered Kel. “I don’t know if you can call the enemy’s horses to you once their riders are off them, but now would be a good time to see if you can.” Kel looked at Connac. “Your boys and I will hit them from the front. Duck, Arrow?” The two male sparrows sat on Peachblossom’s mane. Both regarded Kel with black button eyes. “Let us know when the enemy’s three horse lengths back from that rock.” She pointed out a rock at the bend in the road: it was just visible through the trees. The birds left. Connac’s men already rode toward the rock as quietly as they could. Kel mounted Peachblossom. Tobe passed her helm up. She settled it on her head, then flipped up the visor to keep the stench of oily iron and sweat-soaked padding from overwhelming her. She accepted her glaive from Tobe, then set out after Connac.
It seemed like forever before Duck and Arrow came shrieking around the curve in the road, but the sun had barely moved. “Charge!” Kel shouted to Peachblossom and to the men with her. Peachblossom leaped forward, hooves digging into the packed dirt of the road. The big gelding hurtled into the mass of men just around the bend.
Chaos erupted as arrows flew from the woods behind and on either side of the Scanrans. Horses reared, throwing off their riders, then trotting into the woods. Kel barely noted their departure. She was too busy fighting. She clung to Peachblossom’s back as the gelding wheeled, striking out with his front hooves. Down he went onto all fours. Kel wrenched her glaive free of a Scanran and grabbed the saddle horn one-handed as Peachblossom kicked out to smash whoever had come up behind him.
It was a short fight. The Scanrans, relaxed and comfortable behind their own border, were not prepared for an attack. Those who cleared their weapons to deal with Kel’s small group in front of them barely lived long enough to realize that more enemies harried them: archers and knights boxed them in while sparrows darted at their faces, pecking and scratching, distracting them enough for a fatal blow or shot.
Stormwings circled overhead as Tobe returned to the road with packhorses and mounts, the Scanrans’ as well as their own.
Kel wiped sweat from her eyes and looked at the boy. “Would they stay here if you asked them?” she inquired, curious. “In case we need them on the way home?”
“It’s better over by the river,” replied Tobe. “There’s grazing and water.”
“Do that, will you, please?” Kel asked. As he led the horses away, she called for the sparrows, twisting the stopper from her water flask. Two birds she didn’t recognize immediately came to her. “See if the road is clear ahead.” Off they went.
Kel drank almost all of her water, her mouth and throat caked with road dust. Someone took her flask from her to refill it. She looked around. Neal was fixing a shallow gash on a convict’s forearm as the man gulped the contents of his water flask. Here came Dom, Esmond, and the men of Dom’s squad, some with cuts or scratches, all on their horses. She counted her knights. All were present.
Owen had a long cut across one cheekbone. He demurred when Neal reached for him with a green-glowing hand. “I want a scar to impress the girls,” he informed Neal. “They like a man who looks dangerous, and my face needs all the help it can get.”
“At least let me clean it,” Neal growled. “Unless you think you’ll look really dangerous with your face rotting off.”
Owen submitted. Kel looked around. “I want their weapons, all of them,” she croaked. Someone shoved a full water flask into her hand: Jacut. She thanked him, then gulped another bellyful. I’ll need to stop behind a bush before we ride on, she thought ruefully, but at the moment she didn’t care. She was alive, and so were her people. “Strip them of their weapons and supplies. Put it all under canvas, hide the whole mess behind that rock,” she ordered. “You never know when a cache of supplies will come in handy. Let’s drag the bodies into the woods, so it’ll be a few days before they can be smelled.”
“Spoilsport!” jeered a Stormwing from above as the men got to work to hide the dead.
Kel, who had joined the effort to get the Scanrans out of sight, dropped the legs of the body she was hauling. “Tobe, my bow and arrows,” she called. By the time he reached her with the weapons, the Stormwings had fled.
After she’d helped to strip the dead of their weapons and hide the bodies, she washed her hands. Silently she apologized to the men they had left in a graceless heap. I am sorry to leave you without proper burial rites, she told them. Maybe you leave enemy dead like this, but I hate doing it.
Kel squared her shoulders and walked over to Peachblossom. “We’d best mount up,” she said. Tobe came to her with her helm and glaive. Kel donne
d the helm—she would feel very foolish if she were shot in enemy country because she had left it off— and accepted the glaive. Tobe jumped into Hoshi’s saddle. Kel sent her human scouts out, two forward, two to her rear, and led the way once she could no longer see them in the trees.
They met a second party of ten warriors around noon and dealt with them just as they had the earlier enemy party. When the first Stormwing appeared, Kel shot at it, not particularly trying to hit it. She missed. At the same time, she’d come near enough that the creature swore at her and fled. She didn’t want the presence of Stormwings to alert Scanrans that battle had come to their side of the Vassa.
As they rode on, Kel thanked Mithros and the Goddess for her animals and for Tobe. Without them, she and her men might well have been caught; with them, no enemy soldier or horse got away to warn the local people. She also thanked all the gods for the two farmsteads they found later, both abandoned weeks ago.
“Well, of course,” Dom remarked when the scouts reported that the second cluster of buildings was empty. “Smart people. They decided maybe they could live with Grandmother’s belches and Brother’s sharp tongue if it meant getting clear of the war.”
“Smarter than Maggur,” Owen muttered as they rode on.
“You think he’s stupid?” Neal demanded. “He’s just united a country of men who live to take chunks out of one another. What better way to keep them from rebelling against him than by starting a war with us?”
“And they’re hungry,” the convict Uinse added. “Their lords tell them how rich we are, and they want to be rich, too.” He smiled thinly. “I can understand that.”
“Understanding that is what got you hard labor to start with,” Jacut pointed out.
“Hush,” Kel told them softly. A scout was coming in, one of Connac’s men.
“Lady, have a look,” he said, offering her a blob of horse dung in a gloved hand.
Kel poked it and discovered it was soft yet, only dry on the outside. “We’re close,” she whispered. She glanced at the sky, judging the angle of light coming through the trees. “Where are we?” she muttered, opening a map.
Protector of the Small Quartet Page 91
