THE ARROW felt like liquid fire in Cazio's arm, and he went all knee-weak.
Dodging arrows, he had decided, was not his forte. That was too bad, because he could see that the man who had shot him was drawing back another shaft as another fellow with ax and shield was bearing down on him hard.
He stepped to put the axman between him and the archer and raised Acredo, glad he'd been hit in the left arm. The arrow was still there, like a little tree sprouting from his bicep. His balance felt off.
He speared at the axman's face, but the fellow lifted his shield, turned his blade with it, and stepped in with a hard cut. Cazio jerked his blade to parry in a high prismo, with his hand above his head and the blade slanting from right to left across his body. It met the ax just below the hilt, deflecting it a fingers-breadth from hitting him.
With his point down and standing belly to shield with the other man, Cazio did the only thing he could think of: He sprang straight up, tilting his hand out so that the earth-pointing blade came down on the other side of the enemy's shield and stabbed him in the neck just above the breastbone. Encountering no bone, Acredo slipped right down into the man's lungs.
When Cazio's feet hit the ground again, his legs wouldn't hear of standing, so he went on down while the axman stumbled off, trying for a little while to pull Acredo back out of his body before fetching against a tree.
That left the archer, who was advancing cautiously toward him. Desperately, Cazio began crawling for cover, glancing back often. The man looked grim now and stepped up his pace. Cazio wondered if the axman had been his friend.
But then the fellow sat down hard and dropped his bow. Cazio saw that he had an arrow in his belly.
"Ah, sceat," he heard the man say. "I knew it." He sat that way for a moment and then used his bow to push himself to his feet. He looked around, then cast another glance at Cazio.
"Sceat on this," he said, and began hobbling off into the woods.
"Good luck," Cazio called after him.
"Fooce-thu, coonten," the man called back.
"Right," Cazio breathed, trying to stand. It was absolutely astonishing how much blood was on him. Should he try to get the arrow out?
He took hold of it, the sun exploded, and the next thing he knew, someone was looking down at him. He hoped it was a friend.
"This is going to hurt," z'Acatto said later that evening.
"You've never lied to me before," Cazio said sarcastically. "I-" But he forgot whatever he meant to say as his vision went white with pain and his capacity for speech was reduced to a series of ragged gasps.
"Told you," the old man said.
"Yes," was the cleverest response Cazio could manage.
"You'll be fine if the fever doesn't get you."
"What a relief," Cazio replied, wiping tears of pain from his eyes with his good hand.
A glance at Austra's concerned face, and he felt suddenly a bit ashamed. He'd only had an arrow in the meat of his arm. What had been done to her was far worse.
He drank something z'Acatto handed him. It tasted like fire stirred with the sweat of a drunk.
He took another drink, and as z'Acatto plugged and bandaged the wound, he got the broad strokes of what had happened. Shortly put, they had won. The hedgehog had held back the attackers so that the archers could keep putting arrows in them.
"Then the Cassro orders us forward," Jan told him. "Against what's left of the horse. At first they can't believe it; they reckon we're a defensive formation. But we advance with pike a step at a time, braced together like old times, and they got their infantry behind 'em. Even charging they couldn't break us, and now we're startin' to tickle 'em with our pikes, and they've no room to charge. Before you can say Jaq Long-wick, they turn and cut their way through their own infantry."
He jerked his chin toward the swordmaster. "That's a man who knows a thing or two about fighting," Jan said.
"I'm sorry I missed it," Cazio said.
"Ah, you did your part. Here, have another drink with me."
"Pleased to," Cazio said.
"One more," Austra said from behind him. "Then he's mine, boys. The sun's going down."
They'd set up a tent for her, and once inside, he took her gently by the shoulders and kissed her. She had alcohol on her breath, too, and her eyes were troubled, showing more need than desire.
He pulled her closer, and need suddenly was replaced by what looked like panic. He felt her go rigid and released his grip.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"No need for that," he replied, stroking her head. "You've been through a lot."
She kissed the shoulder of his wounded arm. "So have you."
He bussed her forehead, then sidled around behind her. This time when he pulled her close, she didn't tense up. He kissed the back of her neck, and she sighed.
Gently, gently, he undressed her, and soon they were spooned flesh to flesh. He reached around and stroked her forehead, then down her ribs and hip.
"Is this enough for this evening?" she asked softly.
"More than enough," he replied. "Kingdoms more. Empires more."
"Thank you."
"You'll heal," he told her. "I'll heal, and we'll both be better. But we're fine now. We're alive, and we have each other."
"That's true, isn't it?" she murmured.
He woke a few bells later. It was cold, and he made sure Austra was well covered in her blanket. Then he pulled on his pants and shirt and went outside. His arm throbbed as if a demon were in it, and the liquor had gone thin as milk in his veins.
About half the men were still awake, singing and laughing by the fire.
He found z'Acatto alone, up on the wagon.
"Is it time for the wine yet, old man?" he asked.
He could just make out his mestro's face in the distant firelight. It looked like he was smiling a little.
"No, not yet."
"Why didn't you tell me any of this? I mean, I know we have our quarrels, but you're almost my father."
"I'm not your father," z'Acatto snapped. Then, more softly: "I could never be that."
"No? But you took on the role. Why?"
"I couldn't think of anything better to do," he said.
"You haven't answered my question."
"Doesn't look like I'm going to, does it?"
Cazio sighed. "Don't you ever get bored with this bickering?"
Z'Acatto was silent for a moment, and then he chuckled. "Easier than talking," he said.
"Exactly. For me, too."
"Fine," z'Acatto said. "I never wanted you involved in this sort of thing. Your father made me promise to teach you the sword, but he never asked me to make you a soldier. I don't think he wanted that for you, and I damned sure didn't. So I didn't fill your head with tales of our exploits."
"Maybe if you had, I wouldn't be involved in all of this now."
Z'Acatto laughed again. "Right, that's funny. No matter how bad I made it out to be, it would have sounded exciting to you. And because your father did it, and maybe because I did-"
"You were both famous."
"Yes. All the more reason you would have wanted to follow in our footsteps."
Cazio nodded. "You're probably right. I was a little hardheaded when I was younger."
"When you were younger? Your head gets harder every day. And a good thing, because you get hit on it more often all the time."
He handed a bottle down. It was a not very good wine. Cazio took a swallow.
"What now?" he asked.
"You seem to have that worked out," z'Acatto said.
"You're the Emrature," Cazio replied.
Z'Acatto took the bottle and had another drink.
"I guess I am," he finally said. "Most of these fellows want to go back to Eslen and fight for Anne. I've never seen the place, and I guess I should."
"Well, it's something to see," Cazio said, yawning.
They finished the bottle and started another one before exhaustion overcame the ache in his arm.
"Back to bed for me," he said, clapping his mentor on the back.
"We move early," z'Acatto told him.
"Yes, sir, Cassro," Cazio replied.
He went back to the wagon and found Austra just as he'd left her. He lay against her, relaxing against the warmth of her body.
He woke the next morning in exactly the same position. Austra was still quiet, so he thought to rise and help break camp without waking her.
But as he sat up, he noticed that her eyes were open.
"Morning, love," he said, and kissed her on the cheek.
She didn't move, and her eyes were glassy. He shook her, and she didn't respond. He shook her harder.