by D. L. Kramer
"He trusts Aralt," Mo'ani finally decided. "Send him to wait for them below the mountains. Adiella can take the army to rendezvous with us."
"I think Bear should come with him," Gharald noted.
Mo'ani nodded slowly. Sewati might be the only person who could keep Nahtan calm. Their friendship had truly withstood it's tests and came out stronger each time.
"Not a bad idea," he agreed, then turned to Kile. "I'll see to the last of the army while you go find Aralt."
Kile nodded and disappeared through the crowd, Nicho following after him. Mo'ani watched as the last of the infantry took their places. When Kile returned a few minutes later, they took their places at the head of the line and led the army from the stronghold and down the mountain. Aralt broke away from the group and turned to the east to wait for Nahtan.
**********
Brijade rebuckled her wrist guard for the fourth time. It seemed like even those with new buckles slipped on her right wrist and she couldn't figure out why. Next, she buckled her sword around her waist, then tied her sash over the belt.
"Your cloak, m'lady," Tamnor said from behind her, laying the red wool cloak over her shoulders. He paused to kiss her neck.
Brijade sighed and did the clasp. In the six months since earning it, she still wasn't used to the weight, but knew she'd welcome it with the late autumn frosts on the ground each morning. The Mo'ani from the stronghold had marched on Herridon almost three months before. The last word they'd received told them the city was siege-locked and any church guards who tried leaving were killed immediately.
Brijade turned to look at Tamnor when he kissed her neck again. "I warned you about that," she said, sliding a sheathed stiletto into her belt.
"I know," he shrugged, backing down. "You're already spoken for. It doesn't mean I can't remind you I'm interested." He slumped into a nearby chair.
Brijade flipped her head over and gathered her black hair into one hand. She tied it tightly, then straightened up again, piling it on top of her head and twisting it then clipping it into place. She looked over at Tamnor. "You have how many children now?" she asked him.
"Eight or nine," Tamnor shrugged. "I forget."
Brijade shook her head. "And you're lucky if you remember their names," she reminded. "Let alone who each of their mothers are. Besides the fact that at least three of them are older than me."
"I'll remember your name," Tamnor promised, adjusting his own cloak.
Brijade sighed. "Sorry, Lord Devayne," she said. "Even if Bear was killed, you wouldn't get any further into my bedchamber than you are now."
Tamnor sighed. "You should at least give me some consideration for trying," he pointed out.
Brijade turned to look at him. "Oh? Why?"
Tamnor sighed and stood up when he saw she was ready to go. "Because I'd marry you," he answered.
Brijade laughed out loud and opened the door to the hall. "You don't even know what that word means," she managed between chuckles. She stepped into the hall, Tamnor beside her. "And I never said I wanted marriage, even to Bear."
They left the keep and arrived in Takis' yard as the Mo'ani finished getting into formation. Tamnor's army waited on the hills outside Takis' gates. The two armies would march together first to the garrison to destroy it, then to the east, following the church guards marching to intercept Nahtan's army as it approached. If the reports they'd heard from traders was accurate, Nahtan was returning with an army of well over a thousand. The church guards caught between them wouldn't last long.
Brijade swung onto Essian's back as Tamnor pulled himself into his horse's saddle. The foul-tempered stallion snapped at a nearby horse then snorted and stamped his front hooves.
"Ready?" Brijade asked Tamnor.
"If I'm not," he responded. "I'd better be when we get there."
Brijade laughed again and took the lead out of Takis Hold. If everything went well, they'd be reunited with Nahtan by the end of the week.
Eleven - "I need to figure out how to work with that"
Nahtan made no effort to hide his advancement from any church guard scouts that might be watching for them. When they were about a league from the church guard army, Nahtan called a halt to their progression so they could decide the best way to approach. They would have to hold their own until Brijade and Tamnor could bring their armies up on the church guards' rear. It was finally decided that the infantry and archers would appear first and take the defensive while the cavalry held back.
Memories tugged at Nahtan, reminding him of mistakes made in battles of another lifetime and he was determined not to repeat them. When the Mo'ani closest to him questioned holding the cavalry back, he assured them he knew what he was doing.
When everyone settled in their positions, they advanced forward. Nahtan left Bear and Adie at the front while he rode with the cavalry. He would need to make quick decisions on how they should move, and wouldn't have time to yell orders for someone else to give. The cavalry kept to the rear as the army marched, waiting to absorb the blows of the church guards Nahtan knew were waiting to come up behind them.
As they moved closer to the field, he checked the archer's brace on his left hand again, making sure it was tight enough to support his wrist while he wielded his sword. Anticipation welled up in him, and he found himself counting, wondering what number he would reach before he heard the sound of hundreds of hooves behind him. He was glad his gauntlets kept his hands dry as he reached over his shoulder and pulled out his sword. This battle would be huge, and no doubt he'd be exhausted at the end.
When they were barely a quarter of a league from the church guard army, he was rewarded with shouts and the thunder of hooves from behind. He absently noted he had nearly counted to five hundred.
On his order, the Mo'ani cavalry stopped and turned, then charged back against the church guards. Their plan foiled, the church guards quickly found themselves facing an enemy they had hoped to surprise.
Nahtan immediately reached for Tyran's mind, guiding him to openings in the mass of horses and armored men. Tyran responded, readily herding the church guards' horses where Nahtan wanted them, letting Nahtan gain the upper hand against every opponent. His sword clanged heavily against armor and other weapons, but the sound was drowned out by the melee around him.
Just as in the fights at the waystations, he let his instincts guide him in countering his opponents. When most of the church guards were forced from their saddles, Nahtan jumped from Tyran's back and confronted those on the ground.
A wiry church guard appeared immediately in front of him, a mace in one hand and a short sword in the other. Nahtan ducked under a powerful swing from the mace and cut for the man's legs with his longsword. The church guard reminded him of Janec and he briefly wondered if this was one of the soldiers Janec had trained before leaving the Archbishop.
Hoping his wrist could absorb the blow, he watched for the next swing of the short sword. Driving his sword into it, he twisted sharply outward, sending the blade spinning out of sight. The church guard cursed at him and braced his wrist against his stomach. Nahtan allowed himself a faint smile--that was the same thing he had done to Janec to earn his cloak. The church guard's wrist would be unusable for the rest of the fight.
It was easy for Nahtan to continue dodging the mace. Several seconds later, his arms shuddered as he brought his sword down on the church guard's shoulder and across his chest with all his strength. The armor gave the slightest resistance at first, then crumpled under the force. Bracing one boot against the church guard's body as it fell, Nahtan yanked his sword free.
His next opponent was younger than Nahtan and handled his sword like he'd just picked it up that morning. Not wanting to kill him, Nahtan waited until he saw an opening, then brought the hilt of his sword down on the church guard's helmet, knocking him out. If Nahtan could help it, he would keep as many of the conscripts alive as he could, letting them return to their families. Judging from the battle frenzy around him, the BishopLord
had ordered quite a few conscripts.
Somewhere in the chaos, the BishopLord would be either fighting or watching. Nahtan turned his attention to finding him, quickly cutting down the next two church guards to stand before him. The adrenaline rushed through his body, and he trembled slightly with every pause in the fight as he scanned the area around him.
Finally, he saw the BishopLord and his honor guard engaged in the battle on one edge of the field. Nahtan paused when he saw Liwanu directing the attack around where he was, proving he was far from a "simple fisherman". Hearing a noise behind him, Nahtan turned, twisting his sword in his hand to meet the flash of silver heading for his back. The force of the blow nearly knocked him off balance, and he struggled for a moment to keep his feet.
The church guard sneered at him, pulling a stiletto from his belt and slicing for Nahtan's sword arm. Nahtan turned, shifting his sword in his hand again and swinging for the man's stomach. His cut blocked by the man's sword, Nahtan barely had time to duck under the next swing. Pulling his skinning knife from his boot, he pushed himself forward, ramming his shoulder into the man and knocking the air out of him before driving the skinning knife up under his breastplate. Feeling the knife sink to the hilt, Nahtan twisted it before dropping out of the man's reach, pulling it out with him. Coming to his feet a step or two away, Nahtan watched as the church guard tried to come after him, then collapsed to his knees. With a final cut from his longsword, Nahtan ended the church guard's life, then turned to find another opponent.
The battle seemed to last for hours. Eventually Nahtan's arms began tiring more with each swing or thrust. His left hand alternated between sharp pains and tingling numbness down his fingers. He forced his hand to keep a grip on his sword for each new opponent. Not long after, a sharp pain shot up his arm and he nearly lost his grip. Before the church guard in front of Nahtan could bring his sword around for a crippling strike, a familiar narrow, curved blade shot into Nahtan's line of sight, intercepting the church guard's swing and sending his sword flying with a perfected twist.
Nahtan clenched his fist, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. He looked up and recognized Brijade's black hair when she stepped between him and the church guard. A red cloak hung from her shoulders and he was almost more surprised to see that.
"Thanks," he said, turning and swinging his sword with his one good hand, blocking a church guard behind them. The church guard lunged for him and Nahtan blocked again, then pushed up and kicked the guard's knee backwards. The guard fell writhing to the ground and Nahtan ran him through.
"It's not everybody who can say they've saved a king," Brijade smiled over her shoulder as she cut down the church guard in front of her.
"Nice cloak," Nahtan commented, taking a stance at her back and ignoring her "king" comment.
"I like it." Brijade quickly disarmed and killed another church guard. "A little heavy, though. I need to figure out how to work with that."
Brijade stayed with him through the last of the battle. Nahtan managed to take down several more church guards using his one hand, but it wasn't long before his right arm was too exhausted to lift his sword above waist level.
With the last of the church guards dead or wounded, Nahtan dropped his sword and braced his wrist against his side. He wanted to collapse, but the thought of lying on the blood covered ground sickened him. The adrenaline still coursed through him and he began trembling all over.
"Come on," Brijade picked up his sword after cleaning and sheathing her own. "Bear and Tamnor are this way." She took his arm and helped guide him through the bodies. Nahtan noticed her hand trembled on his arm from the same rush of adrenaline.
Nahtan walked through the field with her, his eyes seeing every red cloak that lay on the ground. He absently realized not a single church guard was standing. Tears burned his eyes at the sight of the slaughter and he found himself turning away from more faces than he looked at.
Finally, he raised his head and looked out over the bodies. The church guard infantry had charged after the Mo'ani cavalry was engaged. The battlefield stretched well over a quarter of a league ahead of him, and there was very little movement through it.
Slowly, there stopped being so many red cloaks among the dead and Nahtan noticed the plain clothes and leather armor of the men and women who followed them from the villages. Overall, he guessed over a thousand men from his, Tamnor's and Brijade's armies were killed. There was still a large number of Mo'ani alive, and he forced himself to appreciate that more than regret the lost.
It didn't help the deep ache inside as the sight stirred painful memories. Still, if it hadn't been for those memories, their losses could have been much greater.
It wasn't long before Nahtan could pick out Bear's straight black hair against his red cloak. He was standing with Liwanu, Yenene and Lord Devayne on a slight rise to the side of the battlefield. There was no sign of Adie and concern for her made him stop to look around. He finally saw her, helping carry wounded off the field.
"You look like hell," Bear said as Nahtan and Brijade reached the small group.
"Want me to drag you down there and make you look like this?" Nahtan threatened. He dropped down to sit on the clean grass of the hill. Bear didn't have a single mark on him, and looked like he'd sat out the entire battle. Both Liwanu and Tamnor showed the stress of battle; Liwanu held one arm out while Yenene wrapped a bandage over a deep cut while Tamnor wrapped one around his hand. Nahtan started unbuckling the brace on his wrist as Brijade dropped his sword by his side.
"Hey, I lost four quivers of arrows," Bear defended. "It's not my fault archers have to stand away from their opponent to kill them."
"I'm sure you had something to do with that," Nahtan said, gritting his teeth against the pain. He could barely move his middle fingers and his wrist burned deep inside.
"Let me," Yenene said, finishing with Liwanu's arm and kneeling beside him. She took his wrist in her hand and felt along the inside with her fingers, not seeming to notice the blood that had seeped through his gauntlet and brace, staining his skin underneath.
Nahtan winced as she pressed inward, then moved her fingers up his arm several inches.
"You've damaged it more," she said, feeling back down to his wrist, then up his palm. She sighed and looked up at him. "If you aren't careful, you'll lose total use of your hand."
"Can you do anything for it?" he asked, wanting very much to hit something to make him forget the pain. It was too bad Bear was out of reach.
"Not here," Yenene shook her head. "But you need to stop using it until it can heal some."
"I don't have a choice but to use it," Nahtan picked up the archer's brace and started buckling it on. It would at least keep it immobile. When it was fastened, he stood up again.
"I can help it," Yenene said, standing up with him. "But it takes a long time to heal. It would be better if you wait until you have several months when you don't need to touch your sword."
"That doesn't sound good," Bear shook his head. "Besides, his sword's a permanent part of him."
This time, Bear wasn't out of reach, and Nahtan responded by hitting him squarely in the upper arm. Unfortunately, he was too exhausted to make it hurt.
"The BishopLord's dead?" Nahtan asked Liwanu, turning to face him and ignoring Bear's amused look.
"He wasn't much of a fighter," Liwanu answered. "When the last of his honor guard was cut down, he cut his own throat."
"At least he's gone," Nahtan sighed. He turned to look around them. "Let's get everyone who's alive someplace else." There were other things to concentrate on now and he knew if he stayed here much longer, it would haunt him for a long time. "We're going to need a few days to recover, and it's going to start stinking here by then."
"We'll take care of it," Brijade assured him. She glanced over at Bear, smiling faintly. "I'll make sure he gets very dirty."
Nahtan nodded. Brijade would see to it Bear did more than his share of the work and Nahtan found he didn't envy his fr
iend having to look through the dead for the wounded.
Twelve - "I thought you'd be at Herridon"
They set up camp about a league further west and began transporting the wounded there. Nahtan made sure the names of all the dead Mo'ani were noted down, as well as those among the villagers that they could identify. The dead were buried a couple of days later in mass graves and Nahtan wished Pater Isak were there to help console everyone.
Yenene found herself badly in need as the number of wounded rose. Anyone she could find who could stitch a wound or apply clean dressings got pulled into service treating the wounded. She did what she could for everyone brought to her, and went to bed exhausted late each night.
Nahtan didn't let himself think about the battle and instead kept his thoughts on what lay ahead of them. They would be leaving in a few days for Herridon and should arrive before the end of the month. Tamnor would be going back to Devayne Hold with the seriously wounded while Brijade insisted she was going with Nahtan and Bear. Still too exhausted to argue, Nahtan agreed. Besides, he couldn't really tell her to stay behind when she had saved his life.
As the armies settled in for another night, Nahtan wandered away from the fires and tents, hoping to find some peace in the dark. The sound of Bear's flute drew his attention and he followed it. Nearly half a league from the camp, he saw his friend's silhouette in the moonlight. Bear stopped playing and turned to look at him.
"Brijade and I were wondering something while looking for wounded," he said.
"What?" Nahtan asked, sitting beside him. Bear hadn't said much since looking through the bodies on the battlefield. Nahtan hoped he hadn't been ignoring his friend. There didn't seem to have been much time to just talk about nothing lately.
"Do you think you could kill someone without cutting them in half?"
Nahtan couldn't help but smile, glad to hear some of his friend's usual perspective. "I suppose if I used a different sword I could," he decided. He twisted his arm under the archer's brace, trying to scratch it. "There's just a certain amount of security in knowing my sword weighs two or three times more than theirs, though."
