Sword in one hand, Roisen tried to manage the reins of his horse with the other, trying to direct the creature whose panic was palpable.
His sword was more accurate and more reliable than any of his enemies’ weapons. A man rushed toward him and Roisen bore down his sword into the man's shoulder. Faltering, the man fell under the horse's hooves.
Neither side seemed to have an advantage and the battle was fierce. Battle too long and the men would run out of energy.
Sharply turning the horse around, he searched for someone to slay. Sweat ran down his back, his armor heavy and pressing. The thud of an arrow hit his back, but it didn’t penetrate the steel. Turning again, he sought the enemy, using the reins to steady his swing as he sought someone to engage, even if the bowmen would be out of the reach of his sword.
For a moment, he saw no one, then a man who he didn't know, holding a sword and staring with hard eyes. In that moment, Roisen knew that Wierstoke had hired mercenaries whose specific role was to go after him. Well, from what he could see, Roisen's men were holding their own.
With a flourish, he swung down on the man, who deflected it expertly. Wherever this man had come from, Roisen didn't know. Raufasger would not have allowed untethered mercenaries in the land. Roisen should have anticipated that Wierstoke would have gone looking for people like this.
The man raised his sword and Roisen prepared to defend himself, but a sword to the right connected with the man's head, and the expensive mercenary was no more. Too much focus in a melee left one weak, it seemed, and the man obviously hadn't learned that lesson—to his own peril.
Grabbing the reins again, Roisen searched for his next engagement, which came immediately, the swinging of a heavy battle axe coming his way. His whole body had to defend against the blow, jarring down to his bones. The vibration from the hit stayed with his hands, while he brought up his boot and kicked the combatant away from him. The man fell back into the mud, but it wasn't worth getting off his horse to finish him off. His position on his horse was crucial, giving him a clear advantage over the people below him.
Urging his horse forward, he swung at a man readying to make a killing blow on one of Roisen's soldiers. The look of surprise on the man's face when Roisen's sword pierced his side was almost comical—but there was no comedy in a battle scene. It was brutal and gory, and there was no way around that.
Continuing to slash and hack, Roisen pushed his way through the crowd. Wierstoke was nowhere in sight, the coward, probably left his men to fight his battle for him. That might keep him safe, but it didn't garner the respect of his men. In the end, this would make Roisen stronger as men never wanted a coward for a leader.
In the thick of battle, an errant thought of Ashra and their daughter unfurled in his mind. If he died today, he would never meet his daughter, and the girl would grow up completely under her mother's influence. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Ashra was strong and willful, intelligent and even cunning, and the girl would be loved. No one could doubt how much Ashra loved her children. She loved them more than she ever would him.
Pushing his thoughts away, he focused. This was the worst place to lose focus.
The men were tiring, having fought with every bit of strength. The strokes were coming slower and slower and increasingly, men stood breathing, trying to recuperate.
Neither side had retreated, and neither looked likely to. At some point, he would have to order retreat. They were reaching a stalemate and neither side had won. It had simply been battle. But the call came and it wasn't his. Wierstoke was withdrawing his forces.
The noise of battle petered out and left were the screams of the injured. The stillness revealed the bodies on the ground, both those moving and not.
"Withdraw," Roisen ordered even if the men had assumed so before the command. The men needed to recuperate and the injured retrieved. Already men were carried away and Roisen turned his back on the scene and rode silently back. Even his horse was exhausted.
It wasn't a victory, but it wasn't a defeat. Still, Wierstoke's behavior would play in Roisen's favor.
Roisen's hands were stained with blood and dirt, his whole body aching from the impacts of blows and strikes. While no cuts had reached him, the bruises from the armor and impact hurt.
Riding to his tent, he got down, his ankle feeling weak as he dismounted. A boy took the reins from him and led away his horse. Roisen retreated into his tent, where a manservant helped him divest his armor. His body felt light as the heavy weight came off, and he grabbed a glass of wine to parch his dry and strained throat. It stung as he swallowed. Now he felt how much strain the yelling at the men had caused.
The smell of blood was pervasive and he wasn't going to escape it anytime soon. Continuing to undress, he stripped himself of everything that had any sign of battle and ended up in nothing but his briefs. He hated the blood and gore on him and went to wash it away, washing with soap on both his skin and hair.
Clean, he felt somewhat better. While he relished a political overture, he hated battle, always had. It was the basest form of engagement, but this was a point where it was necessary. Raufasger had relished it, but the fact that Wierstoke hadn't even appeared on the battleground showed he didn't relish it either. His cowardice was Roisen's strength.
Dressing in a loose dark shirt and breeches, he sat down at his desk and told his manservant he was able to tend to business. His hair still dripped from its wash, soaking into the shoulders of his shirt.
His scouts appeared to inform him of what the enemy was doing, all returning to their camp. Roisen bid them to return to their duties of watching Wierstoke's camp.
Another appeared. Roisen twisted his head with surprise and curiosity. This was one of the men he'd assigned to watch Ashra.
"Lady Greve has left the estate," the man said.
"With her children?" Roisen asked, wondering what might have driven her to leave her estate.
"No, but with men."
"What men?"
"Men from Colmire village." Roisen waited for the man to continue. "They are returning to Colmire, but she has also sent a messenger to the citadel."
"Did you intercept it?"
"No, she sent an armed escort."
That was curious. Why would Ashra send an armed escort to deliver a letter to the citadel? Was it that she was writing to him and delivering it to the citadel? It wasn't far away. If so, it would arrive with him in mere hours. Ashra knew they were in battle, and it was unlike her to make such careless mistakes.
"Find out where the letter went," Roisen ordered. "And let me know what she does in Colmire."
"Colmire is difficult. My men are visible there. They see us and know what we are."
"They are suspicious?"
"Very much so."
Running his thumb along his lower lip, he considered what he was hearing. Ashra had men from Colmire in her house, then left with them for Colmire. "How long where the men at her estate?" he asked.
"Not long. Three hours or thereabouts."
"And she did not appear to be in distress?"
The people of Colmire were hungry and desperate. Was it that they had coerced her? Had they kidnapped her to use for leverage? But then Ashra, being so aware of the suffering of the villagers, could be acting to assist them. Her grain shipments were still continuing like clockwork.
"Let me know the minute she leaves Colmire," Roisen ordered. "I want to know if there are any signs that she is being held against her will.” The dismissed man left and Roisen was left to his own thoughts.
Any indication of aggression to her, he would have to send men in to retrieve her. It was fully possible that these men would take advantage of her soft heart, but then Roisen would be more worried if it was someone other than Ashra. But capable as she was, she was also prone to acting rashly.
Chapter 10
NOTHING MUCH HAD changed in Colmire, but there was an energy that hadn't been there before. Hope, perhaps. It was only perceptible in people
's faces, but they didn't linger as they walked past. There was icy wind today and it tugged on Ashra's coat.
Nerves had set deep in Ashra's belly. This could go really badly. Captain Burgess brutally rooted out revolts and here she was informing him that she was about to launch one. He could simply smite her on the spot.
Although he performed his duty with consistency and precision, even he had to have some doubts. Well, they would find out in any event.
Bryce walked by her. She still couldn't figure what made this man tick—other than sheer loathing. It was clear that the men listened to him, but he couldn't achieve what he wanted alone. He wouldn't have come unless he needed her. By himself, he wasn’t enough to make this more than a regional revolt, and he was obviously smart enough to know that it needed to be more to have a chance of success. At least he was willing to put his ego aside in order to achieve what he wanted. It reminded her of Roisen. Probably like with Roisen, she was only useful if she achieved his ambition.
Well, she wasn't here because she supported Bryce and his ambition. Roisen had learnt that she wasn’t interested in achieving men’s ambitions for them. She was here because she wanted to change how things worked, and maybe she was using Bryce as much as he was using her. For now, their ambitions coincided. If at some point, they might not, but that wasn't something that would concern her.
Her time at the citadel had changed her. It was impossible not to recognize it, but hardness was required to make the changes she needed to. If she hadn't developed her own strength, she would be under someone's thumb by now, and all of this was about not being under yet another thumb. There were too many powerplays in the current system, the Naufren suppressing everyone else, the Naufren bullying and suppressing one another. Lastly, the Naufren trying to suppress her. The whole country longed to be free. Bryce knew it, but he wasn't strong enough to make it happen, and he knew it. Whether she was, remained to be seen.
Apparently the battle between Roisen and Wierstoke had ended without a clear victor. Neither would give up, which meant this was the first of more battles. Their distraction gave her the opportunity to gather all those who wanted change, and by sheer number they would enforce it. Luckily, Bryce had done a lot of the groundwork dealing with other villages. Somehow his activities hadn't been noticed by the guard, or by Raufasger before that. For all his passion and zeal, he was smart enough to hide himself.
Arriving at the main square in the center of the village, she waited. The missive she had sent to Captain Burgess had clearly stated the urgency and she'd be surprised if he didn't come. Again, it was her name that drew the good captain here, and it was her name that would lead to them talking rather than an outright massacre.
The sound of horses riding hard echoed off the walls. Captain Burgess wasn't coming alone. Breathing deeply, Ashra calmed her heart. This was a step that could not be undone—a firm and decisive step. This action made her a rebel leader.
Captain Burgess arrived in person, and Ashra suspected that he already half understood why she had called him. Drawing his attention to a revolt wouldn't, after all, be something she would do.
The tall man dismounted from his horse. Five men were with him, their arms and armor worn ready from use. Except for their captain, they stayed on their horses. Ashra's men stood behind her—if they really were her men. Their loyalty hadn't been tested, but she could depend on their ambition. If things turned sticky, would they turn and run? Perhaps. "Lady Greve," Captain Burgess said.
A weary smile formed on her lips. Burgess wasn't likable, but he was dependable, and right now, she sought to break his loyalty. Like most of his men, the captain wasn't a Naufren. He didn't belong with the families that ruled over this realm, kept all its resources and served themselves first in all things.
"The Naufren have never been good custodians of this land," she stated.
"Are you proposing a revolt?" he asked.
"Revolt against what? Who is it you serve? Raufasger is dead. There has never been a ruler other than him." Technically that was correct. "That the Naufren should continue to rule after his death is a mere assumption."
The captain didn't say anything when Ashra stopped talking. His expression was hard to read. He stood impassively, obviously not seeing her as a physical threat to him.
Clearing her throat, Ashra continued. "It is not some simple revolt I am proposing. This is our land and we need to take it back. Yours, too. What says you are bound to serve either Wierstoke or Lorcan?"
The captain twisted his head slightly, his expression still barren. "So you intend to take them both on?"
"This is not for me. They need to be dislodged for a more equitable society. Everyone needs to have a voice, and the people not to be subdued for one person's ambition."
"But you will become that person."
"No, I won't. We need a fair political structure that is not dependent on one person. Else we'll have wars each time a new ruler is needed."
"You have always been an idealist," he said. It was a familiar accusation.
"No, merely ambitious, but not for my own betterment. All I am asking is that you accept this as a challenge as you do Wierstoke and Lorcan."
"Except you wish to tear down the throne."
"I wish a more robust, representative form of governance."
"Is that what these men want too?" he asked. "Are you so sure their ambitions matches yours?"
"They seek better lives for their families. Why would they not? They are starving. They were starving under Raufasger, and both Wierstoke and Lorcan have clearly proven that they care for their own ambition more than they do about ensuring the safety and welfare of the people of this land. Why should we put up with that? Why is that something you must enforce?"
"You do this, they will both turn on you."
"Perhaps. Although they will both see each other as the bigger threat."
"Not for long. Don't underestimate them."
"I'm not, but don't underestimate me either. And by me, I mean us. Without us, the Naufren are nothing more than children in a sandbox."
"They both have armies. You expect to take their armies from them?" There was surprise in his voice.
"I think it would be hard for most men to justify fighting against their own villages, against their own families for the sake of some Naufren lord."
"You speak as if you have the support of villages beyond this one."
"Of course I do," Ashra said with a calm smile. "You know how much people wish to speak. They have been waiting for someone to unite them."
"They are disorganized and discordant."
"Not anymore," Ashra said, taking that more on faith than she really should. Being able to gather all the unhappy people was simply an assumption on her part. How much Bryce had influence was still unproven, but she knew that the constant revolts the guard had to suppress meant that people wanted to act. "We wish you would decide you don't have a dog in this fight."
"That would result in chaos."
"Or it will result in a movement," she said emphatically. "Please don't stand in our way."
Narrowed eyes considered her. Not exactly gushing with enthusiasm. "This could result in utter chaos," he repeated.
"We already have utter chaos. Do you really think we are better off with another liege with absolute power, and what if absolute power isn't possible the way it had been with Raufasger? Is it your role to ensure an absolute monarch is placed on the throne?"
"It is my job to ensure stability." Silence was thick and Ashra hoped no one could hear the powerful beating of her heart. It wasn't perhaps necessary to blatantly point out that it wasn't his place to determine what kind of governance was enacted. Perhaps that was what he believed, but he hadn't arrested her so far. That didn't mean he wasn't about to.
For the men behind her, taking the guard on would not end well. It had to be avoided. Urgently, her mind raced through what would happen if she were arrested. It might not spell the end of this. Bryce would use he
r arrest as a means of gathering people. There was a good chance it would make little difference. There was no ruler to act against her, so it wasn't as if her safety would be compromised—at least not until a victor emerged between Lorcan and Wierstoke.
Still, when a victor emerged, she would be a threat. Taking this step solidified that beyond any doubt. Her alive would always be validity to someone like Bryce. This was brewing no matter what Captain Burgess did now—or was that just wishful thinking? Perhaps too much wind would be taken out of the movement's sails and wholesale slaughter would ensue. With heavy heart, Ashra swallowed. This was such a large risk, but it needed to be done. This change needed to happen, and it was the time to do it.
"Don't get in my way," Captain Burgess said briskly, then turned to mount his horse. "I won't help you, but the guard does not get involved with a contest for the throne—irrespective of ambition."
Relief washed over Ashra. He had accepted her as a contender on par with Lorcan and Wierstoke. This meant they did not have to fear the guard, provided they didn't interfere with movement on the roads, or supplies reaching the citadel.
"Also—" she started.
"I am not giving you more concessions," he said sharply.
"I am simply saying that the people of the village need some of the harvest from the land here. This land would be productive if they gained from farming it. Starving bodies don't work."
"I thought you wished these starving bodies to serve your ambitions."
"Serve their own ambitions," she corrected.
"Perhaps it is only that your words are sweeter than others'."
He was challenging her, implying that she was doing this to place herself on the throne, making her no better than the others. These people didn't come to her for that, and she would prove Captain Burgess wrong. All she wanted was a world where she could safely spend time caring for her family. Achieving it meant destroying everything that was.
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