The sun dipped in the west, its fading rays streaking the sky in hues of purple and blue. Josey rolled up the stiff parchment and tucked it into her fur-lined jacket. Hubert's latest letter was filled with ill news. Food shortages were causing protests in the streets of Othir-not violent so far, but it was only a matter of time. He had no evidence tying the Church to the demonstrations. In fact, he didn't mention the Holy Office at all, and that worried her not a little. News from the envoy to Mecantia wasn't good either. Talks to bring the free city back into the Nimean fold had failed. Hubert hadn't said, but Josey suspected Lady Philomena of sabotaging the summit. But she had more immediate worries. One of them was kicking inside her belly.
She placed a hand over her middle. Easy, little one. This will be a long night for us both.
The child inside her kicked again, but then quieted down. Josey's other worry was right before her. Sitting astride Lightning, Josey looked down from the hill she had chosen as a vantage point. Below, men moved with purpose, digging and building and hurrying. This is where we'll make our stand.
It didn't look like much to her. The field was little more than a half-drained swamp. Here, between tufts of scrub brush and stinkweed, was where her officers had chosen to meet the invaders. They had marched three long days to get here, pushing the soldiers hard, leaving a trail of supply wagons in their wake. The enemy was somewhere to the north of them. It wouldn't be long. Another courier had made it through the chaos in the north. If possible, his message was more disturbing than the previous one, telling of villages burned and civilians put to death. By all accounts, the enemy was moving at great speed, and Uthenorian standards had been seen among the horde, putting to rest the theory that this force came from Eregoth. It made her feel better knowing that Caim's people weren't involved.
Lord General Argentus rode up beside her and dipped his head in a nod. “Your Majesty, I have finalized the order of battle with the regiment commanders.”
As Argentus outlined the positions to be held by the units of infantry, horse, archers, and reserve companies, it reminded Josey of a chessboard. She imagined the footmen were her pawns, the cavalry her knights, and the archers her praetors. Except this wasn't a game. When the fighting began, real people were going to die.
“Will they attack tonight?” she asked.
“Not likely, but we have plenty of pickets out to forewarn us of an advance. I expect them with the dawn.”
Josey fretted with the reins looped around her hand. “What about treating with them? A diplomatic envoy to ascertain their intentions.”
The lord general's bushy eyebrows came together over the bridge of his nose. “Majesty, I believe they made their intentions quite clear when they sacked Durenstile and invaded Nimean territory.”
Josey looked down at a group of men digging trenches in the twilight. Exhaustion showed in their every motion. “Very good. I place my trust in you.”
“Majesty…” Argentus bowed his head. “If this battle should go awry-”
“That will be all, Lord General.”
With a nod, Argentus rode back down to a cluster of officers in clean blue jackets at the bottom of the hill. Josey tried to look serene and in control, but her stomach was churning, and her heart beat so fiercely she started to perspire under her clothing. She didn't blame Argentus for his lack of confidence. She'd sent missives to every noble and freeholder within a week's march, pleading for men and arms to help in the fight, but none had answered. And part of her didn't want to be here either. She wanted to be north, looking for Caim, and that made her feel horrible. This was where she belonged.
“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 sun 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.”