by D. L. Kramer
"I'll go warn those on the far side of the waystation," Adie volunteered.
Nahtan nodded as he and Bear walked toward the front of the camp.
There was little movement around the waystation through the remainder of the day. Shortly after sunrise the next morning, the gates opened and nearly a dozen separate families filed through the entry, many with their belongings in heavy wagons. The church guards rode alongside the wagons, and Nahtan could see many were wounded. When the first families appeared, Nahtan pulled his army back several yards, giving them room to head in whichever direction they would. Turning northwest, the wagons began a slow procession towards the hills. Sitting on his horse, just outside the waystation, Mallin watched the church guards and their families file past him.
When the last wagon had passed Nahtan's army, Mallin dismounted and led his horse to where Nahtan, Bear and Adie watched.
"After traveling west for three days, they'll be turning north," the church lieutenant said. "There's a valley two days from there that they've decided to settle."
"They're not returning to Herridon?" Bear asked.
Mallin turned to look at him. "We talked long into the night," he began. "And came to the conclusion that the Archbishop would not have shown us the mercy Nahtan and his army has." He looked back to Nahtan. "I have no family left here. My son died on the battlefield. I offer you what I know of the waystations in these lands."
Nahtan raised an eyebrow at his offer. "I thought we shared different ideals," he stated.
Mallin nodded. "I owe you my life, and regardless of ideals, I will not turn my back on such a debt."
"Why do you think you owe me your life?" Nahtan asked, curious. This church guard lieutenant was proving more mysterious the more Nahtan spoke with him. He debated secluding Mallin and Bear in a tent together, just to see who could come away with more information without the other one realizing it.
Mallin met Nahtan's gaze easily. "I've no doubt we'd have met on the battlefield if this siege had continued," he explained. "And I've seen you fight."
Nahtan nodded, accepting the compliment. He glanced at Bear, then Adie. When neither of them could do more than shrug, he decided to go with his instincts. "So long as our differences don't cause a problem," he began. "I'm sure we could use the help and information."
"And if they do cause a problem," Bear added. "You'll forgive us if we have to make things difficult for you."
Mallin nodded to both of them. "I appreciate the warning," he said.
The army took the rest of that day to strike their camp. An hour or so before dawn the next day, they set out for the west again. Mallin gave them the information he promised, though he took to the side whenever Nahtan's army clashed with the church guards or were forced to lay siege to a waystation.
Their progress was slow, and each time Nahtan had to draw church guards from an outpost, he became frustrated with the time they were losing. In a month, they barely traveled a quarter of the way to Herridon. Luckily, some of the waystations held fewer church guards and had lesser defenses, making it easier to destroy them. It seemed every time they gained back some of their lost time, they marched onto a heavily manned post and lost more than they gained.
The knowledge of the families also forced a change in their attack plans. Burning the waystations was no longer an option, so Nahtan was forced to lose even more time to ensure the survival of the children and women who were unable to fight.
Mallin proved to be a better ally than Nahtan first thought. Using his officer's status, he was able to negotiate several surrenders. He never stepped in until it appeared the siege against the waystation would go on for months, but when he did, he proved to be very unbiased in working out terms. Though much to his frustration, more than once a band of church guards tried double-crossing Nahtan when the families were safely away. Nahtan's army quickly subdued them but not without further loss of life.
Nahtan didn't notice it immediately, but each time they passed through a town, they picked up more people. It wasn't until Adie pointed it out to him that he realized the effect their actions were having on the people of each land. Most accepted him with no question as the personification of the myth, and Bear took great delight in reminding him that many people were calling him their king.
The months moved slowly by. When they were halfway to Devayne and Takis, they had cleared out over two dozen waystations. Summer came and went and Nahtan was starting to grow tired of the constant delays. He didn't want to leave Mo'ani, Lord Bavol and the Dwellers holding Herridon in a siege. When the last waystation had been cleared, Mallin took his leave of them. Though Nahtan offered to let him stay with his army, Mallin's only response was that the last of their journey was through the BishopLords' allotments, an area where he would not be able to help them. Before departing, he promised Nahtan that they would meet again.
Finally, just as the ground was starting to frost each morning, a scout returned with the news of an enormous church guard army about two leagues ahead of them.
Nahtan looked back at the army stretching behind them. "How many do you think we're up to?" he asked Bear.
Bear looked over his shoulder. "I'd say we're probably close to fifteen or sixteen hundred," he shrugged. "But there are quite a few who aren't soldiers."
Nahtan looked ahead of them. Tamnor and Brijade had promised they'd have the road clear for him, but there was no way they could know exactly when he'd be there.
"I'm betting Lord Devayne and Lady Takis are just on the other side of that church guard army," he said. "And they're planning on using us as the distraction so they can take that army out quickly."
"Are you sure?" Adie asked. "That sounds more like something Rial would do."
"Trust me," Nahtan nodded, knowing he was right. Brijade could be just as cold blooded as Lord Valin when she set her mind to it. He looked from Adie to Bear. "Ready to give them what they've been waiting for?" he asked.
"It's a little late to back out now," Bear shrugged, wrapping Chase's reins around his hand.
"It's what we're here for, isn't it?" Adie asked.
"All right." Nahtan reached for Tyran's mind to warn the stallion what they were coming up against while Bear turned to start the warning moving back through the army. "Let's go."
Tyran started moving, Chase and Adie's mare right beside him. Behind them, the army started forward as they quickly passed word of what was happening back to those bringing up the rear.
Ten - "So this is where it'll be"
Jerai turned to look at his father, Jaron and Tosia as they sat watching Kiril's garrison. The Dweller cavalries were half a day's ride behind them, secluded in the Wardsman's Woods.
"They honestly have no idea what's going to happen, do they?" Jerai asked them. The church guards came and went with no notice of the small group watching from a distance. They had watched the garrison for three days and nights, and not once were the gates closed. Had Kiril been present, the garrison's defenses would have been much more formidable. But the BishopLord had left two days before, headed south.
"How could they?" Tosia asked. "There is little contact with Herridon here."
"I doth not think even Herridon knows yet," Jaron added.
"Unless Kiril was headed that way," Othon pointed out. "Then he shall find out rather quickly."
"We attack tonight," Jerai decided. "The BishopLord's not here, but Lord Olorun seems to think he might turn back to the Mo'ani's side at Herridon. Let's make sure he knows we headed that way."
Jaron and Tosia both nodded their heads as the four Dwellers turned to ride back to the Wardsman's Woods.
Near the middle of the night, the guards walking the walls of the garrison were alerted first by a single torch approaching from the north, then a second appearing beside it, then a third, then a fourth. By the time the church guard officers were called, a sea of torches was quickly advancing on the garrison.
The orders to close the gates came too late, since the Dwellers with
the torches were the second group to advance on the garrison. Covered by night, a small group reached the garrison's outer walls carrying heavy blocks of wood to block the gates open. When the gates were cut loose, they crashed down on the blocks of wood and stopped. Realizing what had happened, the church guards poured from the garrison to face the Dwellers, some looking like they'd been drug from their beds.
On Jerai's orders, the cavalry dropped their torches and charged, plowing through the church guards with barely a pause. They circled around as the archers on the walls started raining arrows and crossbow bolts down on them.
"Away from the outer walls!" Jerai shouted, twisting his kora around to slice through a church guard. The sword was his father's, and Jerai hoped he could be worthy of the blade. Though he had never seen his father ride into battle before this, the elders in the valley recounted many campaigns where Othon had proven his mastery of the heavy koras. Arrows whistled past Jerai, some close enough he could feel them cut through the air.
While Jerai and the majority of the Dwellers remained outside, Tosia and a few selected others made their way into the garrison. The small group split up and moved from the stairs to the top of the walls. Minutes later, archers started tipping over the walls and falling to their deaths on the hard ground below.
In the dark, it was hard to tell for certain just how many church guards there were and the battle seemed to end as quickly as it started. The Dwellers were suddenly able to turn their attention to their own wounds.
The archers' arrows had done their job. When the last of the church guards had been cut down, over twenty Dwellers had been killed and many more wounded. Jerai was hit in the leg and Jaron made him sit still while the arrow was broken off and removed and the wound cleaned, stitched and dressed. When he was able to get up and move around, Jerai quickly found Aloyse and used her to help support his weight as he carried a torch to look for wounded.
As he moved through the tangle of bodies outside the garrison, a horse's still form drew his attention. Limping closer, alarm rang through him when he recognized the stallion. He let go of Aloyse's mane and nearly fell beside the horse, tears blinding him. Pushing himself back up, he saw his father's dark hair, matted with blood as it reflected in the torchlight.
Othon had been hit in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt and knocked from his saddle. Unable to move on the ground, he had fallen quickly to the church guards nearest him. His stallion had stayed to protect him until he, too, was cut down.
Jerai's tears ran hotly down his cheeks, cutting paths through the blood staining his face. Aloyse leaned over to touch her nose against him, concern in her dark eyes.
"I wanted you to stay at the tower," Jerai managed to say to his father. He pushed the blood soaked hair away from his father's face then placed one hand over the open eyes and closed them. "I wanted you--" His voice cut off and he turned away.
"Jerai?" Tosia appeared suddenly beside him. She saw Othon's body and her eyes filled with tears. "My lord, I'm sorry," she whispered.
Jerai shook his head, not able to speak.
"I'll have Jaron come carry him back to the camp," she said quietly.
Jerai nodded silently as Tosia stood and disappeared into the night.
They buried Othon and the other Dwellers well back in the Wardsman's Woods. For all the pain and sudden loneliness inside him, Jerai's face remained unchanged during the burial. He pushed his grief deep inside him, letting it change to anger. It wasn't his father's fault he had been killed; Othon was there because he believed in Mo'ani's Way and longed for a time when his people could leave their valley safely. Jerai believed in the same thing, and knew it was a destiny he would pursue until he was cut from the saddle.
After they buried the last Dweller, he looked at the faces of those around him. Grief and pain were evident, but so was determination.
"We're riding south to Herridon at dawn," he said. "I need to send some of you further on to Corydon Hold. Those who want to go there, let Tosia know." He nodded to Jaron, turned and limped back to the camp.
**********
Sevanha turned in her saddle to look one last time at Corydon Hold before it disappeared from view. The Corydon Mo'ani and Dweller cavalry stretched for nearly a league behind her and Dahlos, the heavy horses raising a cloud of dust that could be seen for leagues. On one of the battlements, she saw her children waving Corydon's banners and smiled.
"I hope we're home to them quickly," she said, turning forward in her saddle again.
"We will be," Dahlos assured her. "With the Dweller cavalry, we're numbering over twelve hundred."
"The garrison numbers over a thousand," Sevanha pointed out. "We're almost evenly matched."
"In number," Dahlos agreed. "But our army is much better trained than the Archbishop's."
"I hope you're right," Sevanha said. "I worry about Gahrit there alone."
"He'll be fine," Dahlos reached over to touch her hand. "Mehlis and Bredyn promised to keep an eye on him, and we've left enough archers and infantry there to keep the hold safe."
"I know I shouldn't worry so much," Sevanha sighed. "But I'd die if anything happened to any of the children."
"It won't," Dahlos assured her.
Their army continued marching west. On the fourth day, they crested a hill to see the church guard army waiting for them on the other side of a wide field.
"So this is where it'll be," Sevanha said quietly, looking the field over. Short grasses covered most of it with a few rocks dotted around. The ground appeared fairly even, only sloping downward on the south end.
On Dahlos' signal, the army and cavalry began spreading out beside them, taking their positions. There was some concern over the slight Dweller who had come to lead the Dwellers in their charge, but Tosia assured them she knew what she was doing. The Dwellers had given no question or doubt about her ability, and several had seemed relieved that she was there.
Some time after the Mo'ani and Dwellers took their places, three riders from the church guards' side rode toward the center of the field. Dahlos and Sevanha exchanged looks, then nudged their horses forward. Neither of them had any intention of accepting any terms, and thought the BishopLord would realize that.
"You will turn this army back to Corydon Hold where it will remain until a sufficient guard arrives to disband it," the man in the center ordered. Sevanha recognized the BishopLord immediately.
"Your parents were siblings, weren't they?" she asked him evenly.
Dahlos hid his smile at his wife's stab. "I'm afraid we can't do that," he shook his head slowly. "You'll have to kill us all to disband us, and you haven't been able to do that in three generations."
"You have an hour to leave this field," the BishopLord continued. "If you do not, it will be treated as an act of aggression."
"An act of aggression?" Sevanha repeated. "Why wait an hour? I can show you such an act right now." She reached over her shoulder and put her hand on the hilt of one of her swords. Dahlos stopped her from drawing it.
"We could use the hour," he pointed out to her, then looked back at the BishopLord. "To sharpen our weapons."
Sevanha lowered her hand and nodded. "We'll see you back here then," she said to the BishopLord, turning her horse as Dahlos turned his and riding back to the waiting Mo'ani and Dwellers.
Dahlos sent word down the line of their plans, and everyone shifted their positions. They would let the BishopLord make the first move and match his forces accordingly. If his cavalry charged, Tosia and her cavalry would join with the Mo'ani cavalry and meet that charge, same with the infantry. Fortunately, the church guards from this garrison didn't use large numbers of archers, so that threat was minimal.
The hour passed slowly and at the end of it, the Mo'ani and Dwellers still held their ground. Sevanha was privately pleased to see the BishopLord pacing behind his men. No doubt he'd heard stories of the Mo'ani's skills on the battlefield and was hoping they would leave. Realizing there was no alternative but to attack, he f
inally came back to the front and pulled himself into his saddle. Shouting his order, his cavalry took a couple of steps forward.
"Oh, good," Dahlos smiled. "He's sending the cavalry first." He nodded to Tosia and she turned and started giving directions to the Dwellers.
On the BishopLord's signal, the church guard cavalry surged forward. The Dwellers moved at nearly the same time, followed by Dahlos and Sevanha and the Mo'ani cavalry.
The two lines of horses thundered toward each other, and Sevanha felt her heart race as she moved with her stallion. Reaching over her shoulder, she pulled one of her swords out just before the two sides crashed together. Chaos erupted on the field, where each person chose their opponent by the color of their cloak.
Sevanha stayed on her horse as long as she could, but was eventually pulled down by a burly church guard. Twisting around, she managed to land on her feet and face him with her one sword. Dodging his next swing, she pulled her other sword from its sheath. Ducking beneath a wide swing, she crossed her blades against his stomach and drew them apart, spilling his insides onto the ground.
Another church guard rose to take his place in front of her and she faced him readily. This one was young, and had no idea how to fight against someone with two swords. He barely started his first swing when Sevanha blocked it and drove her other sword through his ribs. As he slouched forward, she planted her boot against his shoulder and pushed him backwards off the blade.
Just as the number of church guards seemed to be dwindling, the BishopLord's infantry showed up on the outer edges of the battle. The Mo'ani infantry appeared seconds later, taking up the fight as the exhausted cavalry members started losing their strength.
Sevanha was facing her sixth opponent since being pulled to the ground when a sharp pain seared through her back and a scream escaped her lips. Her shoulder burned deep within, and she dropped one of her swords, reaching back to grasp for the blade she knew would be there. Lightning pain shot through her as a hand grabbed her shoulder and twisted the knife, then pulled it out. She felt the bone above the blade give way to the pressure. The church guard she was facing pulled back his sword, intending to run her through when Dahlos' sword appeared between them, driving the thrust downward.
