by Jon Sprunk
“Looks like something's put a bee in the general's britches, lass.” Hirsch winked as he reached the top of the hill. His eyes were bright, even after the hellish march they'd endured. It was strange how after just a couple months she had come to trust the adept so much. He had an easy manner that calmed her worries.
“Nothing too damaging,” she answered. “I asked about diplomatic solutions.”
Hirsch's eyebrows rose in an arch. “I can see how that might get him a bit riled. You having second thoughts?”
“It's not easy to send men into battle, knowing some of them won't survive.”
“I imagine not, but doesn't seem like you've been given much choice in the matter.”
“I suppose they have a plan for you in this?”
“Aye. I'm to remain with you.”
That surprised Josey. She would have thought Argentus and his officers would have devised a better use for the adept. “You've heard the reports. What do you make of these invaders from Uthenor?”
“Uthenorian mercenaries are notorious, both for their love of war and for their fickle nature. Duke Bregone of Leipterhas employed a company of them when he made his spectacularly unsuccessful bid for the throne of Firenna. Sadly for him, his rival had a deeper purse. The Uthenorians slit his throat and raided his treasury house.”
Josey considered that. If they could find a way to entice the invaders to leave without further bloodshed—
“However,” Hirsch continued, “these men aren't mercenaries. I spoke with the messenger. The banners he describes belong to clan chieftains, not sellsword companies.”
A chill dripped down Josey's spine. “So what does that mean? Are they likely to be less ferocious than mercenaries?”
“Just the opposite, lass. These warriors aren't fighting for gold and pillage. The clans of Uthenor have been at each other's throats for centuries. I don't know what's got them stirred up enough to fight together, but they'll be eager for blood.”
Josey stared at the battlefield, lost in her thoughts, as a tall man on horseback rode past. Brian had been sent by his father along with forty militiamen while Lord Therbold returned to his estates, hopefully to gather more troops and material.
Perhaps feeling her eyes on him, Brian looked up and lifted a gloved hand in greeting before he joined Argentus's gathering. Stop mooning, silly girl. He's just a man. A very tall, handsome man. But still…
As Josey chided herself, her baby gave such a kick that it almost knocked the wind out of her. Hirsch took her lead rein in hand as she bent forward over Lightning's neck. “Lass? Are you ill?”
Josey pushed herself upright. “No, I'm okay. It's just…the pace. It's been difficult.”
As she breathed through her mouth, deep and slow like Doctor Krav had instructed, a rider appeared on the northern side of the field. His horse left a trail of churned mud as he rode up to Lord General Argentus. The officers circled around him. A few seconds later, Argentus pointed left and right, and men scurried to do his bidding. Josey bit her lip. What was happening? Just as she was about to ride down and find out for herself, Brian started up the hill.
“Is it bad news?” Josey asked as he reined in beside her.
Brian's eyes were shadowed in the failing daylight. “Several of our scouts have gone missing, but one returned.”
Josey was holding her breath. She knew what that meant. “The invaders are close.”
“Yes. They'll be here shortly after sunset.”
Josey exhaled through her mouth. The spasm was subsiding. “I will require a runner here with me. Two, if they can be spared. And I believe Master Hirsch could be more—”
Brian glanced at the adept. A look passed between them. “Pardon me, Majesty,” Brian said. “But perhaps you should retire to the camp before the fighting begins.”
Josey fought to keep her voice even. “Is this Argentus's suggestion? Well, you may inform the lord general that I'll stay with my soldiers until the battle is through. Do you under—?”
She grimaced as another painful shudder racked her body. She placed both hands over her belly and bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Panic ran through her. Something was wrong.
Hirsch put a hand on her arm. “Lass?”
Then she felt herself lifted down from the saddle. Brian's arms were around her. He smelled of leather and sweat. Bright golden motes swam before her eyes, but she saw Hirsch's face above her. Someone called for her physician. The pain was getting worse. Josey focused on her breathing—smooth and deep, in and out—as the world shrunk around her.
Josey held her breath as the listening horn's cold mouth passed over the bulge of her bare stomach, slowly back and forth and then up past her navel to the edge of the gown she held under her breasts. Goose pimples covered her arms and legs despite the heat of the three braziers in the tent. Looking down at her state of undress, she wondered why she wasn't blushing like a maiden. But, of course, it was just Doctor Krav. Still, she was quick to pull down her clothing when he turned around.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. “With the baby?”
The doctor cleared his throat as he put his instruments away. He wore the same black suit—a coat and trousers with a white shirt, shoes polished to a bright sheen—as the day he had discovered her pregnancy. How does he keep so clean on the road? “Doctor?”
“Yes,” he answered. “The child appears healthy. A little underweight, but that is normal under such trying circumstances.”
He looked down his long nose at her in a way that made her feel guilty. Josey started working on the ties of her dress.
“But,” he continued, “Your Majesty needs to slow down for the sake of the life you carry. Too much riding and exercise aren't good for you at this stage. I recommend bed rest for the majority of your day, with brief walks every three to four hours to circulate the blood. And you could do with a richer diet, as well.”
Horns sounded in the distance. Josey's heart thumped hard. Had the fighting begun? “I will, Doctor, but right now I have a battle to fight, and I can't do that from my bed. Will my baby be all right if…?” She didn't know how to ask it. How far could she push herself and still be safe? It seemed harsh, even cruel, but lives were at stake.
Doctor Krav regarded her for a span of several heartbeats, and then said, “A little more activity should not be harmful, provided that you are careful and take numerous rests—whenever you can.”
“I will. I promise. Thank you.”
With a nod, the doctor exited her tent. Iola entered before the flap settled. “Is everything all right, Majesty?”
“Yes, it's fine. Please have Lightning brought around for me.”
The girl bobbed a short curtsy and started to leave, but Josey stopped her. She thought of Doctor Krav's advice. “Wait. Make that a wagon. And inform Captain Drathan I'll be returning to the battlefield.”
Iola paused at the door. “Majesty, I couldn't help overhearing—”
Josey hadn't even considered her conversation with the doctor might be overheard. Of course, she should have. This was a military camp, not the palace. And even back in Othir she might have been more careful.
“I didn't mean to,” Iola said. “But then he—the doctor—said something about the baby's heartbeat and I couldn't help myself. I'm too nosy. I know that, Majesty. If you wish to dismiss me, I will—”
Josey sighed. “Nonsense. I'm sure my maids back home have been listening to my conversations since the day I moved into the palace.” This time she did blush, imagining what Margaret and Amelia might have heard on the night she allowed Caim to seduce her. Or had she seduced him? “Please, just fetch the wagon and Captain Drathan.”
Josey sat back on the bed cushion. She was considering how she could balance her pregnancy and the coming war when the clatter of heavy wheels rolled up outside. She got up as Iola returned with a heavy coat in hand. Josey shrugged into it, thanking her, and went out. The cold struck her as soon as she passed through the door flap. The s
un hid behind a bank of fluffy gray clouds. Please let it rain. It might slow our enemies and give us more time to prepare.
The wagon was built to carry freight, and there was no place else to sit except on the high bench seat beside the drover, a white-haired man with a thick mustache and bangs that hung down over his eyes. He also had unusually large ears. Josey allowed a guardsman to assist her into the seat. Once she was settled and her bodyguard in place, the drover got the vehicle under way. The ride was a bumpy nightmare, shaking Josey so hard her teeth chattered. This is better for the baby than riding?
By the time they reached the hilltop overlooking the field, Josey was eager to get away from the wooden torture device. She jumped down before her guards could assist. Brushing past their outreached hands, she climbed to the crest of the hill where Brian sat on horseback, alone.
Josey pursed her lips as she approached. She hadn't forgiven his earlier comments. Of all the people here, I thought he would understand. He loves his subjects as I love them. Heavens, why did he have to ruin it? She almost tripped as the thought wormed inside her skull. Ruin what? What was developing between them? Josey didn't know. Or I am too afraid to dwell on it?
Swallowing her thoughts, and finding them a bitter medicine, Josey walked up beside Brian. What she saw below made her forget him for a moment. The site had been transformed in the short time she was away. Instead of a few scattered pits, an entire trench had been carved into the ground across the southern end of the field, complete with waist-high earthworks and a fence of sharpened stakes. Three rope-driven siege engines stood behind the trench. They were crude compared to the clean lines of the scorpions guarding the walls of the imperial palace, but looked deadly nonetheless. The troops were assembled in columns as their officers went down the lines, making changes as required. It was starting to look like the plan Argentus had described to her. Perhaps this will turn out better than I feared.
Captain Drathan and his men fanned out around the hilltop. Brian dismounted when he saw Josey and made a small bow. “Majesty, I apologize if I spoke poorly before.”
“You were out of line,” she answered, perhaps a bit too sharply. But he deserves it.
“Yes, I was. I hope this can make up for my lack of manners.”
He held up a dagger. Silver wire wrapped around its handle, curling down to a wide guard. The wooden scabbard was almost as long as her forearm.
Is this a joke? “A knife, Sir Brian?”
“When knights ride in tourney, it is customary to wear the token of their ladies. But I would not presume to ask for your favor. Instead, I give you my token to wear, if you will. For luck.”
He drew the dagger. The fading sunlight caught the blade's milky gray steel. “This dagger was one of twelve forged at the order of King Guldrien of Aquidon and given to his Knights Brethren before they rode for the last time.”
Josey knew the story of King Guldrien and the Knights Brethren, how the doomed monarch and his loyal companions rode out to meet the might of the fledgling Nimean Empire, and died for their bravery. Afterward, Nimea had absorbed Aquidon and divided it into the provinces of…
Aquos and Farridon. Oh, dear gods. In an instant, Josey understood how she had mismanaged her dealings with Brian's father and Count Sarrow. All this time she had been treating them like just another pair of squabbling nobles, forgetting the history of these northern provinces. “Brian, your father and the count don't care about water rights or boundaries, do they?”
Brian's eyes were splinters of blue steel as he sighed. “Now that the empire is fraught with turmoil, they both dream of breaking away and restoring the old kingdom of Aquidon. Only they cannot agree which of them should rule. Forgive me, Majesty. Though I do not share my father's dream, I could not bring myself to betray him.”
Josey took the dagger, which was lighter than she anticipated. “You didn't betray him. He is your lord and father.”
“He is a traitor.”
“I will consider what's to be done with him, but I still have every faith in you.” Josey sheathed the dagger with reverence. “As for this, I will wear it proudly.”
“Then I will ride to battle with a glad—”
A horn blared, and Josey's throat closed up. Down below, soldiers rushed to their positions along the trench and officers shouted. She followed their pointing fingers across the field. At first she couldn't see anything in the gathering twilight. Then a line of shapes emerged from the dusk. Men and horses, they came by the scores and then the hundreds. Fingers of dread clutched Josey's insides as the invading host grew before her eyes. There had to be several thousand, at least. And she had what? Five hundred if she counted Therbold and Sarrow's militiamen?
“God's breath,” Brian whispered.
“Is there…?” She was afraid to ask. “Do we have any chance to win?”
She expected a bold statement of valor and bravado. Instead, Brian replied, “I must get to my unit.”
He leapt to his horse and galloped down the hill. Josey held the dagger to her chest as the horde drew nearer. She tried to imagine what it must be like for her soldiers, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the inexorable advance of your enemy. Wondering if you were going to live to see tomorrow. Josey wished she could slow down time, or speed it up.
“War is mostly waiting, followed by moments of blind terror.”
She looked over her shoulder as Hirsch slid down from his little mare. “Is that supposed to be a warning, Master Hirsch? You should know by now that a few words aren't enough to frighten me away.”
The adept harrumphed. “Indeed I do, lass. Even when those words are true. What's that?”
Josey held up the dagger Brian had given to her. “It's nothing. Just a memento. For luck.”
The adept looked down over the crest of the hill. The enemy was closer, and with every step their numbers seemed to swell, like a black tide washing over the field.
“Gods protect us,” she whispered.
Hirsch nodded as he drew his hood down over his eyes. “Aye, lass. That about sums it up.”
Remnants of a nightmare sifted through Caim's head as he awoke. He had been running across an endless field, with ferocious creatures snapping at his heels. Kit was there, too, running with him. Or maybe it had been Josey.
He started to get up, until a sharp twinge ripped across his lower back. Caim sighed and took it slow. He had no idea what time it was. Without sun or moon to guide him, the hours blurred together. The campfire had burned down to a nest of red cinders. Dray and Malig were both asleep. Caim wanted to kick them awake. He'd told them before he closed his eyes to each take a watch, and wake him for the third spot. Caim looked around for Egil, but then remembered the guide's fate. Was he still alive?
“You sleep uneasily.” Shikari sat with her legs folded. She had been quiet on the trail yesterday, hardly speaking to anyone, not even her guardian. Caim glanced over at Hoek, sprawled out across the hard ground behind her. They didn't act like lovers, but the giant never left her side. “A victim of restless dreams?”
Caim picked up a stick of firewood and fed it to the flames. “I could do with a comfortable bed in a warm inn, if that's what you mean.”
“I understand. But it's not the cold that bothers you, is it? What do you plan to do when you reach Erebus?”
Caim had considered that. At night, when he lay down to sleep and the darkness surrounded him, he imagined what he might find in the north and how he could hope to pick up a trail gone cold for almost two decades. “I won't know till I get there.”
“Your foe from the ruins will likely be there, too. Yes? And perhaps more like him. A great many enemies for three men to face alone.”
“Whatever point you're trying to make, just say it.”
“Only that we could be of assistance.”
“It's probably best if we drop you and your man off at the next spot of civilization.”
She favored him with a smile that showed off her perfect, small, white teeth. “
This far north? You aren't likely to find any civilization. Not until you come to your destination. And I see the hunger in your eyes.”
Caim shifted his weight. This woman had bothered him since the day they'd met. For an escaped slave stranded in the wastes, she was strikingly confident. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“A power dwells inside you. It is in the way you move, the way you kill, in the violence of your sleep. I have seen it's like before. Some of the asherjhag are workers of miracles. When they call to the dark, the dark listens.”
Caim patted his back where his knives rested. “My only tricks are with these.”
“I think not.” She tilted her head. Her hair gleamed with a rich luster even in the gloam. “You feel the pull of unseen tides. If you listen hard enough, you will hear their whisper.”
Caim thought of the pulling. It was still there, tugging in the back of his head, so much a part of him now. North, it whispered to him. Always north. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“The power.” Shikari indicated the fire between them. “The priests say it is like this flame. It must be fed or it will starve. You've been feeling ill of late, yes? Weaker?”
Caim gritted his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaws threatened to pop. The woman's guesses hit too close to home. In his mind he saw himself hunched over her, his mouth pressed to her neck, sipping her blood….
Caim got to his feet. “Wake your friend. We leave as soon as we've eaten.”
His hands shook as he walked away, so hard he had to clench them into tight fists within his gloves. He wanted to gut someone and watch their life drain into the snow. Stop it! Forget her. She doesn't know anything about me. But as he gathered his gear and went to feed the horses, the woman's words followed him.
