by John Ringo
“It’s probably what Chansa offered him,” Sheida said. “I can prevent him from calling on Chansa; Paul’s side won’t even know what’s happening to him. I can wrap him in a teleport block and communications block.”
“And what will that do to get him to change his proxy?” Daneh asked.
“Well, I’ll offer him his life,” Sheida said with a feral smile. “But that’s all.”
“Hmmm,” Edmund muttered. “And you’re asking that I not kill him. The man that raped my wife? Your sister?”
“Do you think I like it?” Sheida replied. “But it’s necessary. Even if we can’t win the war, this will give us spare power.” She turned to Daneh. “Daneh, what would you give for enough power to summon nannites for healing?”
“Oh,” Daneh said, struck by the thought. “I’d give much for just some damned medical texts and medicines. Nannites?!” She thought about it for a moment then sighed. “God I want him dead, though!”
“We all do,” Sheida said. “Edmund, powered armor? Enhancements?”
“Don’t really need them,” he answered. “We’ve got a technique and a nice professional army that we’re going to make larger. But, frankly, it’s not up to me. I’m not the one who was directly affected.” He turned to Daneh and nodded at her. “Milady, I know that this is a great burden to put on your shoulders, but as the one most affected, I leave it to you. Life? Or death?”
Daneh’s jaw worked furiously and she shook her head. “Damn you, Sheida!”
“I’m sorry, Daneh,” Sheida said, honestly. “But think, best case, we can destroy Paul’s defenses and bring an end to this war. Worst case, we can have the power to aid all of us. Medical technology will be at the top of the list. I promise you.”
Daneh rubbed her face and snarled. “Damn you, Sheida,” she said again, then: “Life,” she ground out through gritted teeth. “But it had better not be a life of ease!”
“I promise you, we’ll find an interesting way for him to spend the rest of his miserable life. Although we might have to negotiate not to torture him, so chaining him to a rock to have his liver eaten out every day by a vulture might be out.”
“I wouldn’t ask for that,” Daneh replied. “Just… confine him. Solitary confinement. For the rest of his life.”
“Okay,” Sheida replied. “He’ll never see another human face for the rest of his life, nor hear a human voice except his own. You realize that solitary punishment like that is one of the cruelest tortures in the world? That it’s going to drive him insane, more insane that is?”
“Yes,” Daneh said coldly. “I do.”
“Done,” Sheida said, turning to Edmund. “Are you going to win this battle?”
“Probably,” he replied. “If not here, then at the town. But he’s probably got some power available for defense. Capturing him, or killing him for that matter, probably won’t be easy.”
“Just capture him,” Sheida said. “I’m trying to get you some help. If it arrives it will have the means to make sure he doesn’t escape. I’ve got to go but I’ll keep a watch on things. If Paul or Chansa notice he’s losing, I’ll see what I can do to keep them from interfering directly. But I have to go.” With that she disappeared.
“Oh, lovely,” Daneh sighed. “Thanks for leaving me here, Sis.”
“There are carts coming and going regularly from town,” Edmund said. “Now that Sheida’s gone I want to say something.”
“What?”
“I’m glad that you agreed,” Edmund sighed.
“What?” she gasped, angrily. “But…”
“Sheida is right,” he said, holding up a hand to stop her angry retort. “We need the power. But there’s more to it than that. I haven’t discussed your rape and your therapy because I’m too close to you; I’m the wrong person to help. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been… observing. And you’ve been wrapping yourself around hatred for McCanoc to a degree that’s not healthy.”
She looked at him for a long time and then sighed. “I know. But I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You just did most of it,” Edmund replied. “By using your head instead of your heart, you’ve shown, to yourself, that you can get past it. That has probably done as much for you as Bast’s little session. You’ve shown that even if McCanoc is at your mercy, you can let him live, for a good enough cause. If we had captured him, he would have been put to death. But only after a solid trial and by the rules. Emotion should have no play in it.”
“Ask a question?” she said.
“Sure.”
“If I’d said no, that is, that I wanted him dead, would you have done it? Even over Sheida’s objections?”
“Yes,” Edmund replied. “I don’t think that getting his power will ‘end the war.’ Wars are rarely, effectively never, won through simple change points like that. They’re far too complex. Killing him would have taken the power away from Paul’s faction, which would have helped. But it wouldn’t have ended the war. That said, the additional power would have been so helpful that not taking a chance at it would have been… not the best decision. But if it was the decision that you made, I would have stood by it.”
“You are so… strange, Edmund Talbot,” she sighed, smiling. “You always think of the future, don’t you?”
“If you start living in the past you’re already on the way to the grave,” Edmund commented, then smiled. “You could stay for dinner; McCanoc won’t be here tonight; he’s been running into little traps we’ve set along the road.”
“Unfortunately, I need to get back,” she said, patting him on the cheek. “I’ll stop by the aid station on my way back and check on Rachel. Do me a favor; don’t come to my tender ministrations tomorrow. They won’t be so tender.” With that she waddled off to find one of the ox carts.
“Will do,” Edmund replied, picking the sketch back up. As she walked away he set it back down and sighed. “HERZER!”
“Yes, Baron,” the triari called from the far side of the camp.
“Find McGibbon, I’ve got to pass some supplementary orders.”
When the two were there he told them of Sheida’s request but not the reason. “I know why she’s asking and I’ve agreed to abide by her wishes. He is not to be killed. Understood.”
“Yes, sir,” Herzer said, reluctantly.
“Why in the hell not?” McGibbon asked. “You know what he’s done!”
“Yes, I do,” Edmund said evenly. “And the reason is, I gave you an order. Are you going to abide by it and enforce it? Or am I going to have to ask Steinweggen to take over command?”
McGibbon’s face worked but then he nodded. “You know I’ll follow your orders, Edmund. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“None of us do,” Edmund replied. “But it’s necessary.”
“Permission to speak, sir?” Herzer said.
“You’re not a recruit anymore, Herzer,” Talbot said with a smile.
“Does Dr. Daneh know about this?” Herzer asked.
“Yes,” Edmund said.
“Uhmm…” Herzer tried to figure out a way to phrase it then shrugged. “Did she approve?”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Edmund replied. “When you get a chance.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, go spread the word.”
“One last question; I know it will come up,” McGibbon replied. “Can we at least wound him a little?”
“I doubt we’ll be able to capture him if we don’t,” Edmund replied. “But the person who kills him will answer to me.”
* * *
Herzer checked the guard posts after dinner then headed back to his packs. When he reached them he saw Bast laid out on his fur rug and he remembered that it was, in fact, hers.
“Come to reclaim your property?” he asked with a smile.
“Only if you want to call yourself that, lover,” she replied with a light in her eyes.
“Bast… this is not a good idea,” he said, squatting by the fur.
“One thing that you need to learn is that except when people are actively trying to kill you,” she said, leaning up to kiss him, “this is always a good idea.”
“I’ve got responsibilities,” he temporized. “And I’m not going to do it right here in front of everyone.”
“We’ll cover up,” she said with a grin, flipping his blanket over her legs. “It’s getting cold anyway. Come over here and warm me up.”
Herzer took off his armor and crawled in between the fur and the blanket, wrapping her in his arms. As he did he realized that they were not by any stretch of the imagination alone. There were couples among the militia and the archers and he was pretty sure he heard some murmurings from the direction of Deann’s usual place. And Cruz wasn’t next to him for that matter.
“I hope like Mithras the sentries are paying attention to their business,” he muttered as between the two of them they got him out of his uniform.
“I’ll go check on them when you’re asleep,” she murmured, pulling him down for another kiss.
“Thank you,” he said, letting his hand wander down her side and watching the shiver it elicited. “I think I love you.”
“And I love you as well,” she murmured. “But love is not a single, perfect, emotion. You love Cruz as well.”
“What?” he asked, sitting up. “I mean, he’s a buddy, but…”
“But you are very het, my dear,” she smiled, pulling him back down. “Don’t let in so much cold air! But when you fight, you fight for your friends, for your comrades, to keep them alive as much as yourself. Yes?”
“Yes,” he said, “but…”
“This, too, is love,” she said, smiling. “Honor and courage are so often an expression of love. When I saw you, the first time, I saw in you a great capacity for love. Well, and, also, I thought: My that’s a big boy, I wonder if he’s to scale.”
Herzer chuckled and butted her with his head. “And were you… pleased?”
“Ecstatic,” she replied. “But love is what it’s all about. Do you love the ‘Kingdom of Free States’?”
“Well…”
“Okay, do you love Raven’s Mill?”
He thought about that for a while. A group of strangers, survivors of disaster, thrown together in the wilderness. But…
“Yes,” he said and then understood.
“So you could run away,” she said. “It’s possible that tomorrow you will die. But you do not. You stay. For your comrades, for your town, for your honor. This is love.”
“If I desert, the penalty is death,” Herzer pointed out.
“Does that bother you?” Bast chuckled. “Really?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Love is what has driven soldiers into wars throughout the centuries. There are times when fear overcomes it, and then they have to be prodded into battle. And there are conscript armies driven forth by fear or for having nothing better in their lives. And there are those who simply like the killing; McCanoc is one such. But they make poor soldiers. It is the ones who love something, who go clear eyed into battle for it, who are the fiercest killers. Sometimes they have loved the wrong things. Jihads and pogroms and Holocausts. Hate mixed in with love. But to bring a soldier to the place of battle mostly requires a love of something. They may love something greater than themselves, but they must love. The greatest warriors are the greatest lovers. And I saw in you greatness.”
“Thank you,” he said, quietly.
“Now, no more talk,” she whispered in his ear. “Let us do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Herzer was just getting out of his blankets in the predawn cold when Bast came striding back into the camp, obviously straight from a bath in the river; her hair was just starting to dry and her nipples were standing out so hard they were dimpling the leather of her halter-top.
“How come you were complaining about cold when you run around in a bikini all the time?” he asked, grumpily. He was sore in some very odd places; Bast had a grip like a vise and she sometimes forgot her own strength.
“I’m more or less immune to heat and cold,” she admitted with a grin. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“So why do you run around in a bikini instead of something warmer?” he asked, perplexed.
“Do you know how many men I’ve killed who froze looking at my tits?” she asked, laughing merrily.
“Breakfast is on,” Cruz said, walking past. “Bacon and eggs! New bread from town!”
“Sounds good,” Herzer said, putting on his armor and checking that his sword was loose in its sheath. Their helmets were stacked on their crossed pilums and for the time being his could stay there.
Bast walked with him to the chow line and got only bread, then looked over at Edmund in the torchlight. “They’re still where they stopped last night, about a kilometer and a half south,” she said. “They weren’t stirring yet when I left.”
“Good,” Edmund said, getting a full plate. “Thank you for checking.”
“I thought someone should,” she replied.
“There’s a team of cavalry down the road,” Edmund said.
“I know, I saw them as well,” Bast chuckled, taking a bite of the bread and looking up at the stars in the clear sky. “It’s a good day for battle. It will start cool but then get quite warm.”
“You’ll take a place with the archers?” Talbot asked, leading the group over to a large stump.
“Oh, yes, not for me the armored clash,” she smiled. “I’ll fill them so full they won’t realize they’re dead. I dislike these Changed intensely.”
“I doubt it was their choice,” Herzer said, sitting on the ground.
“No, but I still don’t like them,” she said fiercely. “They have slaves in the pack trains. You must rescue them, Edmund.”
“First we have to win,” Edmund pointed out. “We’re sort of outnumbered.”
“I’ll take my quota,” Bast said with a shrug. “Methinks I’ll go find a good spot.” With that she walked off into the darkness, whistling and occasionally spinning in place in dance.
“I’m glad she’s so happy,” Herzer said.
“She’s like that,” Edmund shrugged. “Battle is what she was bred for and she’s just about as good at it as any elf I’ve ever met.”
“We might have to retreat,” Herzer said, looking at the defenses. “I hope not.”
“I’ve got that covered,” Edmund replied. “The militia is going to get to work today on fall-back positions for the archers. I’ve had extra pilums brought up as well and stashes placed along the way.” He looked up at the sky and nodded. “Get your troops into position and down. It’s getting on for dawn.”
For much of the rest of the morning, Herzer and the Blood Lords remained crouched in the parapets. As Bast had predicted the morning cool had quickly been dispelled by the rising sun and by the time the mutters of the militia indicated that the enemy was in sight it was nearly noon and rising to a summer heat. He could see from his position the three horse scouts climb up the trail and then down, but he was out of sight of the enemy and vice versa.
Edmund walked over to his position and, without looking down, shielded his eyes and frowned. “What a gaggle.”
“How’s it look?” Herzer asked.
“They’re all in a group. I think he’s learning the term ‘defeat in detail,’ which means he’ll try to rush us with the whole force. Ah, here he comes.”
“As you can see, I’m waving a parley flag,” McCanoc’s ironic voice drifted up from beyond the low wall.
“I doubt you’d honor it in return,” Edmund called. “But that’s the difference between us. Are you surrendering this time? Tell you what, I’ll guarantee that you are permitted to live and I’ll even throw in not having you tortured every day for the rest of your miserable existence. All you have to do is disarm your force and have it stand down to be taken prisoner.”
“You’re so funny, Edmund Talbot!” McCanoc called. “I’ll count
er your offer. Send us out a shipment of tribute and we’ll go back the way we came. Say, two tons of wheat and the same of corn and all the jewelry and other geegaws of the town.”
“And you’d leave us alone from hence forward?” Edmund asked as if he was considering it.
“Well, not exactly,” McCanoc replied. “Say, a quarterly payment. Oh, and we’d need some young ladies as well. Where you get them is up to you; remember you could always raid the other towns in your area for the tribute.”
“Yes, very good point,” Edmund said. “We could be senselessly destructive bastards just like you. But I think not. Last chance; surrender and I’ll let you live. Your… men we’ll have to consider.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Dionys replied, venom in his voice. “Let me tell you what I’m going to do. First, I’m going to wipe out this pitiful militia. Your stupid Blood Lords and archers are still marching over here, aren’t they? So all you have is this rabble militia, a bunch of has-been reenactors who can’t handle reality so they hide in fantasy. Much good they’ll do you against my army. And when they are gone, Edmund Talbot, I’m going to capture you. And the last thing that you’ll see, before I have your eyes burned out, is me raping your daughter, the first of a long line of my men.
“Daneh, however, I will spare. I understand she is with child,” he added delightedly. “I assuredly cannot kill my firstborn. After it is birthed, though, it may be different. And I understand that women can continue to have sex during pregnancy. Especially if it’s up the ass!”
Edmund had listened to the diatribe in perfect calm and his voice retained it. “Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Only for an amateur,” Edmund sighed loudly enough to be heard all along the line. “It’s so hard to find qualified opponents these days,” he added in a mutter. The baron lowered his visor and lifted his hammer to the figure in black plate. “Are you going to spend all day talking? Because I’m going to give you five minutes to get out of bowshot. That’s part of this whole ‘parley’ thing, too.”
