Lady of the Star Wind

by Veronica Scott

  “Please, my lords, Khefer needs to seek the healer,” Sallea said, the second or third time she’d brought his condition up, each time more insistently. “I can plainly see in this council how you rely on him, but if he doesn’t receive the proper care, he’ll be a broken spear, unfit for battles yet to come.”

  “Well said.” Rothan rose from his chair, gesturing for Khefer to leave the audience. “We’ve heard enough tonight. Go, see the Lady of the Star Wind and then find your bed.”

  Khefer saluted. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “You’ve done well. I’ll expect you to attend the strategy session in the morning.”

  “We’ll all be there,” Mark said as he helped Sallea support Khefer.

  Once they were making their way through the deserted halls, Khefer said to Sallea, “It was my duty to sit and answer the king’s questions as long as he had a single one remaining.”

  “Stubborn as always,” she replied, her tone calm. “It’s your duty to remain fit for service. What kind of an ally would I be if I failed to remind you—and your king—of this?” She gave Mark a hostile glance, frowning. “No one else in the room appeared ready to make the case.”

  He stifled a smile. “Frankly, I was expecting Sandy to come and extract him from the meeting long before this. She knows how much he needs medical attention.”

  He shepherded the pair through the hallways to the suite of rooms where Sandy had established her clinic. He found her dozing on a couch jammed into the chamber next to Sapair’s bed. One of her new assistants snored on a pallet off to the side. Sapair slept, but Sandy stirred as soon as Mark walked through the door with his companions.

  Signaling for them to be quiet, she led the way into an adjoining room where many torches and oil lamps blazed.

  “Took you long enough to come see me,” she commented as she walked into the light.

  “Rothan and General Intef needed to hear his whole story tonight so we can integrate the information into the planning tomorrow,” Mark answered.

  “Sit over there, Khefer, and let me check out your ribs,” Sandy said.

  “How’s Sapair?” Mark asked as Sandy used the mirror to perform a slow scan on Khefer.

  “Not too good. I gave him some heavy-duty pain meds from my dwindling supply.”

  “Can you help him with his hands?”

  She frowned, rescanning part of Khefer’s abdomen. “Okay, good, your spleen’s not ruptured, just bruised. Lucky.”

  “Spleen?” Khefer stumbled over the unfamiliar term.

  “Entrails,” Mark translated. “Sandy? The guy’s hands?”

  “Well, Sethmre did a good job of setting the major bones in the field. He should have been a doctor, not a cavalryman.” She gave Sallea a tired smile. “The smaller bones are smashed. As it is, Sapair will be able to use his hands to some extent but not with any fine motor skills.”

  “So, no writing?” Mark asked.

  “No. The fingers won’t heal with any great mobility or flexibility.” She fastened the mirror on her belt and patted Khefer’s shoulder. “Mostly bruises for you, Captain, some cuts and slashes. The ribs are broken, but all we can do is strap them. I’ll give you something for the pain and medicine to keep the wounds from getting infected. Let me get the magic.”

  “He has to be conscious and coherent for the big meeting in the morning,” Mark warned as she walked to the table where her medical bag sat. “Don’t give him too much.”

  “He’ll be better for a few hours of peaceful sleep. No worries.”

  “I know, you’re the doctor.” Teasing, he winked.

  “Right, and don’t you forget it!” Her fleeting grin was replaced with a frown. “I think I might do surgery tomorrow on Sapair’s hands, though, clean up some of the internal debris and damage. It will help to a limited extent. I’m not an expert on that kind of delicate surgery, but I believe I can give him some hope.” Sandy walked back with the inject and pumped the drugs into Khefer before the soldier could blink. “We need to get this stubborn soldier to bed before the meds take effect.”

  “I’ll call a guard to help get him to his quarters,” Mark offered.

  “We’ll be fine,” Khefer demurred, sliding off the table. “Sallea can assist me.”

  “Okay, whatever you want. If you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure,” Sallea answered for them both.

  The couple left the room together.

  “Remember how she once said she’d never fall for anyone but a desert warrior?” Mark asked Sandy as she straightened her medical supplies and closed her bag.

  “Yes, before she met Khefer. How will her choice go over with her parents?”

  “I’ve no idea, and I’m not capable of thinking about it tonight. Or this morning, whichever it actually is. Can we head for bed now too? Please?” Mark begged.

  “Let me check on Sapair one more time, and then yes, to all your requests.” Sandy was gone for a moment and then came back, took her bag from Mark, and strolled into the dim hallway, heading for their suite of rooms.

  “You’re unusually quiet,” Mark murmured after the second turn.

  “Hmm? Just reviewing the treatments I gave tonight and the next steps. It’s funny, when I use the mirror to scan a patient, the act seems to augment the healing process. Sapair’s hands look better now than they did when he arrived, although his condition is pretty bad. Farahna is such a barbaric bitch.”

  “Your grandmother the empress does the same sort of things.”

  Sandy sighed. “Yes, I know. What if I can use the mirror to heal?”

  “Not just examine injuries, but fix them? Do you think you can?”

  “Maybe. I wish I could have five minutes with Haatrin, ask her some specific questions.”

  Mark stopped in his tracks, swinging her to face him in the dim torchlight. “Not a good idea. The stakes are too high when any of those beings are brought into play. Tell me you’re not thinking of contacting her somehow.”

  “No, I guess you’re right.” Sandy resumed walking, and Mark matched his stride to her shorter one. “I’m going to use Sapair as a trial subject, with his informed consent of course, since any improvement I achieve will be a blessing for him. I’m going to try visualizing how the bones in his hands should be when I check them with the mirror, see whether the magic can influence them to knit into proper shape.”

  Arriving at the door of their suite, Mark returned the salutes from the guards and ushered Sandy into their rooms. He took the medical bag from her, placing it on the floor before gathering her close. “You’re pretty amazing, Lady of the Star Wind.”

  “Well, if I can put the mirror to such a use for Sapair, then I could do it for you. If you—if you’re ever injured. You’re what I care about the most. Am I awful to be so selfish?”

  “I like it,” he assured her. “And now I’m going to be selfish, and we’re going to stop talking or thinking about anyone but ourselves. Come to bed, Your Highness, and let me practice my skills.”

  She laughed and let him lead her to the bedroom beyond the foyer.

  Mark had requested the general’s people to make a model of the territory in which the anticipated battles would be fought. Now the diorama filled one large room of the palace.

  Rothan, Mark, General Intef, the other provincial rulers, and their senior officers crowded into the chamber the next morning. There was much exclamation as two servants rolled back the linen cover to reveal the intricate model, complete even to tiny soldiers, chariots, and fanged scaly monsters in the rivers.

  Mark walked the length of the table, which took him from the capital city to the plains below the mountains. The artisans had done a good job. It was almost like studying one of the holographic maps used in the Sectors, which was why he’d insisted on it.

  “So Khefer and Sapair tell us the main Maiskhan army is encamped here, on this side of the river,” General Intef repeated for the benefit of the expanded audience. He gestured at the model soldiers in a for
mation beside the blue-painted river and drew his invisible path with the tip of his belt knife as he talked. “We’ll sweep down from the heights and overwhelm them, drive them into the river where the beasts may eat them. Sapair says there are no more than six divisions.”

  Mark frowned. “Yes, but he also reported talk of another, larger Maiskhan army arriving, before the turning of the new year, right? To ensure successful occupation of the city and the surrounding area. What if the troops have disembarked by the time we get there? How long will it take us to march to the city?”

  “One month,” Rothan answered. “Conservative estimate.”

  “More than two months until the new year celebrations,” General Intef said, tapping his belt knife against the side of the table. “Plenty of time to spare.”

  “A lot can happen in a month. We’d better have a backup plan,” Mark persisted.

  “We must keep the enemy forces from retreating into the city at all costs.” Rothan touched the miniature of the main gate. “We don’t have the ability to mount a successful siege.”

  “Not when the enemy can be resupplied from the sea. We’ve no naval forces to establish a blockade,” Mark agreed.

  Rothan chuckled. “I’ll tell Chief Official Sapair to add a navy to the ever-growing list of priorities we must address after this war is over. Nakhtiaar needs a proper seagoing force, as you tell me at least once a day.”

  There was a small ripple of laughter around the room.

  “Yes, you do,” Mark said in all seriousness. “But creating a navy has to come later. So if the Maiskhan have six divisions by the river, how many men are we talking about?”

  “Each division is one thousand men,” someone answered from the crowd.

  “And we have?”

  “My Mountaintop province provides twenty-five hundred foot soldiers and a full division of five hundred chariots with drivers and archers,” the general told him. “The West Plains and the Riverhold bring one thousand each, plus a smaller chariot force.”

  “The men of Riverhold are sloppy and lax, not well trained,” Rothan said. “I hesitate to rely overmuch on them.”

  “You’re right. We’ll deploy them on the right flank, since the burden of the battle will be in the opposite direction,” General Intef agreed. “Riverhold’ll be in reserve. The Black Sands province, however, breeds fighters, you agree? And their ruler brings five hundred men.”

  Extending a hand, Rothan accepted the tablet bearing the current tallies of units and resources. Perusing the columns, the king scowled. “Even if each soldier fights like ten men, we remain outnumbered.”

  “Surprise is on our side, my lord,” ventured one of the attending officers.

  Rothan shook his head, staring at the plains where the battle would occur. “Have we heard anything from the other provinces? Will they send troops?”

  Jaw set, General Intef balanced the knife on his fingertips. “I’ve heard from all but two. The cowards are afraid to march with us but prefer to sit and wait, guarding their own borders.”

  “See which way the winds blow, you mean,” Rothan said. “It’ll go hard with any who don’t rally to my standard now and fight for the freedom of our land from the first trumpet call. There’ll be no reward for latecomers to the battle.”

  If anyone in the room harbored doubt, the king’s emphatic tone made it clear he wasn’t going to forget who’d been his ally before victory was accomplished.

  “I have hopes yet of receiving troops from West Canyons province. Her lord and I soldiered together as boys,” the general said. “His capital lies a great distance from here. Perhaps their couriers are yet on the way.”

  “We can’t wait any longer. We march in two days with what troops we have.” Rothan turned away from the model to accept a goblet of wine from a servant.

  Captain Khefer spoke. “My lord, if I may, I have a proposal.”

  Hearing a few whispers, Mark sensed some surprise in the gathering. Khefer was much too junior in rank to be consulted in this august assembly. On the other hand, he’d received golden honors from the king’s hand as a reward for his work as a spy and was known to be high in Rothan’s regard.

  Gesturing with the goblet, Rothan said, “You may speak.”

  Khefer didn’t hesitate to broach his idea. “What if we had a force of chariots and archers ready to hit the Maiskhan from behind, where their commanders don’t expect any attack?”

  “An excellent strategy, but we’ve no expectation of such a force.” General Intef was dismissive. “The troops in the city may or may not rally to our cause. Your main contact was Ebnar, and he’s been taken or killed. Without him or some other strong, loyal officer to command the units in the city and the palace, the troops won’t fight or will be ineffective at best. Not much distraction for the Maiskhan. We’ve had no contact with the eastern provinces, so no allies will be coming to augment our forces. Neutrality from them is the best we can hope for.”

  “The city troops won’t be able to respond in any organized manner,” Rothan agreed. “Sapair and Ebnar also told you Farahna was dismantling the Nakhtiaar military structure piece by piece. I saw that myself in my brief time at the palace.”

  Khefer shook his head. “No, my lords, I don’t speak of the troops left in the city. I propose taking one of our own companies of chariots and attacking from the rear.”

  “I’m listening.” Rothan’s calm voice silenced the discussion. “How would this be done?”

  “We go through the mountains along this trail Sallea and I scouted when doing reconnaissance missions.” Khefer traced the path with his hand, walking the length of the table. “The track comes out here, in a basin hidden from the view of those on the plains. The Maiskhan wouldn’t see us coming, my lords.”

  “I like it.” Mark appreciated the strategic possibilities. “Being attacked from the direction they believe is secure would cause chaos among the enemy forces.”

  General Intef smacked his fist on the table, making the miniature soldiers jump. “Impossible. The trail is much too narrow for chariots to traverse.”

  “I propose to carry the chariots, sir, and lead the horses,” Khefer explained. “When we get out of the mountains, we mount up and attack.”

  Eyebrows raised, the general stared at Khefer as if the captain had grown a second head. “Carry the chariots? It can’t be done.”

  “Wait.” Rothan held up his hand. He paced the length of the table, studying the mountain trails. When he reached the area from which Khefer proposed to launch his surprise attack, he stopped, raising his head as he challenged the young captain. “You’re positive you can do this?”

  Voice rasping with annoyance, General Intef protested before Khefer could speak. “Your Majesty, we can’t spare a company of precious chariots, horses, and archers to be lost in the mountains on a useless trek!”

  Undaunted, Khefer didn’t even glance at the irritated general but kept his focus on Rothan. “Give me leave, Your Majesty, and I’ll get it done, bringing you victory, this I swear.”

  “I like your fire,” Rothan said. “I give my permission for this bold maneuver. What do you need?”

  “I want to take my own unit of chariots, my lord. I’ve been doing special training with the men in preparation for this mission. We won’t fail you.”

  Rothan nodded. “Request anything you need for the effort.”

  “We’ll leave tonight. I’ve kept my command stationed outside the barracks in order to come and go without much notice. There may be unfriendly eyes here, just as I was an enemy observer in the midst of Farahna’s forces.” Khefer bowed low and left the map room.

  Mark caught him outside, offering the captain his hand. “All the best to you on this. It’s a brilliant idea, even if General Intef didn’t much like it.”

  Rubbing his chin as he grinned, Khefer said, “I think sometimes it’s hard for the most senior officers to contemplate a new strategy.”

  “Well said. Quite diplomatic, in fact. We know
damn well the old guard tried new things when they were fresh young lieutenants and captains in the field.”

  “Memory fades, my lord.” Khefer winked.

  Mark shook his hand, and Khefer took his leave.

  Sandy hailed Mark from the other end of the hallway. He waited for her to reach him, kissing her quickly on the cheek. “I only have a moment—I have to get back to the planning session.”

  “I know. I just came to ask you to ensure Rothan includes my field hospital in his planning today. We have to be set up close enough to the combat zone to be effective. I’ll need logistical support as well.” She handed him a set of tablets. “I submitted this to Rothan myself yesterday, but then I thought you should have a copy. As his deputy for logistics, Sapair seemed to think my requests were reasonable.”

  Swallowing hard to keep his anger in check, Mark stared at Sandy. He shook his finger at her. “You are most emphatically not coming along on this campaign. This is going to be war of the most basic, savage kind. I can’t protect you in the middle of a battlefield. Even if we surround you with Rothan’s best guards, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “Will you be safe?” she challenged him.

  “Of course not—if I’d been born a man who wanted to be safe, I’d never have left my home planet. Tzerde.” He drew a long breath, striving for calm. “I’ve been in combat situations so hellish, seen and done things so appalling, I had to have them blocked from my memory or I couldn’t function. In this war, I’ll be fighting alongside Rothan. I’ve trained my cavalry to handle the duty. You don’t belong anywhere near either type of combat.”

  “I have to be along on the campaign.” Her tone was persuasive. “I can’t ignore my duty as a doctor to take care of the wounded.”

  “You’ve never seen anything like the carnage of war.”

  “I’m a doctor,” she repeated patiently. “I can’t stay here and be useless when my skills and knowledge could save the lives of good men.”