Sasha stood before her horse in the undergrowth, and gazed across the river. Hills rose to either side in the moonlight, shrouded in forest. Across the moonlit water was Larosa. The enemy. But the ally of her nation, and the current location of its army. She had to get across.
After a moment, a man returned to the small column and signalled that they move further along. All twelve riders remained dismounted, in undergrowth too thick to make for easy riding. Much of the border was like this, farmlands left fallow over two centuries for the forest to reclaim. In some cases, the Rhodaanis had even replanted the trees themselves. It made for easier infiltration across the divide, but small infiltrations were not as worrisome to the Rhodaani Steel as large invasions. Through such forests, it was difficult to move large formations, and since the Steel was purely defensive, the only force troubled by these forests were the invading feudals on the other side.
Infiltrations, too, could work both ways. Rhodaani woodsmen and scouts for the Steel scoured these forests. So did the talmaad, on both sides of the border. The latter in particular made certain that Larosan scouts did not risk the trees lightly, especially at night. Many insisted the forests were haunted, as many Larosan scouts who ventured in, never ventured out.
After a while of picking a tangled path along the riverbank, another halt was indicated. Sasha waited. She glanced at Lord Elot’s grim, bearded face, half-awash in a patch of moonlight, and wondered what it was to betray one’s nation’d been accused of that herself, once. Perhaps betrayal meant different things to different people. And perhaps nations, too.
There was a commotion ahead, and some shouts. Men pressed forward, leading their horses. Sasha came finally to a spot amidst the trees where several Rhodaanis surrounded five ragged-looking peasants. Men and boys, the eldest having perhaps thirty summers. Several held sickles as weapons, warding those confronting them. Another held a spear. From their movements, Sasha guessed they had little more than basic weapon skills. Rhodaani militia were granted far better training, and were usually commanded by retired Steel officers.
Lord Elot strode forward, and growled at the men in Larosan. Sasha recognised the tongue well enough, but understood barely a word. Some things, however, she did not need words to understand. There was fear in the peasants’ eyes, yet also defiance. The older man gesticulated grandly as he explained himself, and asked Lord Elot to do the same. And seemed incredulous at the reply.
A brief conversation followed between Lord Elot and another lord. Elot grunted assent to a request, looking disgusted. The other man drew his blade, with several others.
“No,” said Sasha, loudly enough for all to hear. “Let them go.”
“M’Lady, they are Larosan peasants, come to help the Rhodaani Steel. They will report to them, and we shall be known.”
“That was your choice when you chose to come this way,” Sasha replied. “Those in Tracato will figure it out anyway, if they have not already. These men seek only to do the reverse of what you do-to cross the border, and fight for the other side. Let them go.”
“These are our enemies now!” another, younger man protested angrily. He took a step, sword raised.
Sasha put a hand to her hip, where she now wore her blade in unaccustomed position, and half drew from its sheath. “Let them go,” she repeated.
Everyone stopped. Two days ago, she had felt the worst, shivering and aching in fever, and barely able to stay on her horse, or hold down anything she ate. Yesterday, she had come to feel better, her head clear and appetite strong. Today, she had managed some basic taka-dans, in full view of all. All knew the fate of Reynold’s men in the Justiciary, having asked after them. Sasha had told them. None had seemed to disbelieve her.
Now, Lord Elot put hands on his hips and kicked at the dirt. Then gave a rough order, and the men’s swords were sheathed once more. They parted, and the Larosan peasants moved warily forward, staring at Sasha. They inclined heads to her, in thanks.
“Nasi-Keth?” one asked, looking dubiously at the sword on her hip.
Sasha moved her hand from sword to shoulder, where it would normally be were her shoulder not such a mess, and nodded. “Nasi-Keth. Does anyone speak Torovan?”
More wary looks. One nodded. “A little,” he said in that tongue. About them, the Rhodaanis were making to move on once more. “You go…Larosa?”
Sasha nodded. “I am Lenay. I go to my people.” Ah, the man seemed to say, his mouth forming that silent word. “Why do you go to Rhodaan?”
“Some Larosan…” he searched for the right word. “Frighten? Yes, frighten of Rhodaan. Frighten of serrin. But we?” He pointed at his comrades. “We not frighten. We know serrin good. Rhodaani good. Larosan lord, bad. Bad men, they beat us, they kill us. They take our woman. We fight for Rhodaan.”
“You fight with the Steel?” Sasha asked dubiously, looking at their makeshift weapons.
“No,” said the Larosan, a little sheepishly. “Steel great warrior. We not great warrior. But we know Larosan land, Larosan lord, Larosan men, Larosan horses…” he ticked off his fingers, eyebrows raised at her, inviting comprehension.
“Ah,” said Sasha. Not long ago, she would have wished him luck. Now, she only wanted to be with her people. She nodded, and stood aside. The men bowed again, and made their way into the undergrowth.
Soon, at another pause along the riverbank, Lord Elot brought his horse to her side. “The border has long been crossed by the likes of them,” he said darkly. “Some serrin make contact with peasants nearby, and buy their loyalty with medicines and the such.”
It was the same two centuries ago, Sasha knew, across the border between Saalshen and Rhodaan. As the peasants had come to like the serrin better than their own lords, the lords had become more and more fearful. That had led to more hateful speeches against the serrin by the priesthood, and so on, and so forth. Hatred and fear, the two sides of the coin of power.
“Why don’t more Larosan peasants come to Rhodaan?” she asked.
“Like he said, most believe the priesthood,” Elot replied. “Others will not come if they cannot bring their entire families, for those remaining will be treated badly. And in truth, few Rhodaanis encourage contact with Larosa. Some serrin doing so have got into trouble. It makes instability, like the last time, between Rhodaan and Saalshen. Most Rhodaanis want fewer wars, not more. So they leave most Larosan peasants to their superstitions of serrin demons and corrupted souls across the border, in the hope the lords and priests will not get too upset, and start another war.”
“Didn’t work,” Sasha observed. Lord Elot said nothing.
Finally arriving at a suitable location, they crossed the river with no further troubles. By midnight, they had emerged from the forest and were riding across moonlit fields. This is Larosa, Sasha thought, gazing about. At first, it did not look particularly different.
Then, as they found a narrow trail between fields, they passed a small village tucked between a narrow strip of trees and a lake. There were no pretty stone walls and painted window shutters here. This village huddled close, with mud walls and thatched roofs, surrounded by small animal enclosures. Beneath a full moon on a warm late spring night, all seemed well enough. But Sasha wondered at the winters, when the ground turned to mud and those narrow walls struggled to hold the chill winds at bay. About the village, lands lay unused, perfect for villagers to expand their animal pens or plant a new patch of greens. Sasha knew very well what fate awaited them should they try.
Soon, a castle came into view. There was a village nearby, and sheep in the fields beside the road. Even from this distance, Sasha could see banners hanging above the main gate. It seemed somehow sinister, a hulking stone block upon the Larosan fields. Years of warfare in Lenayin had led to some walled cities, yet castles remained unknown. Now, more strongly than at any time since she’d left Lenayin eight months ago, Sasha truly felt that she had arrived in a strange and alien land.
Kessligh and Rhillian walked down a moonlit street in the heart of wealthy, feudalist Tracato. Five more Nasi-Keth walked with them, but it was little more than show. If the feudalists wanted them dead, so it would be. They walked at the heels of a pair of armed city men, and took some relief in the night’s normality. From the nearby docks came the clanging of a bell.
“Thank you for not sending pursuit after Sasha,” Kessligh said to Rhillian.
“She was too long gone when I found out,” Rhillian replied. “I could not have caught her.” There was no accusation in her tone.
“Thank you all the same.”
“I am unhappy about it,” Rhillian continued. “She is only one blade, but she has skills in generalship, and a following amongst some of the Goeren-yai. If she rallies them, Lenayin could grow stronger.”
“There was nothing I could do,” Kessligh said quietly. Rhillian flicked him a sideways stare that suggested she disagreed. “I have never seen her like this.”
“I saw her,” said Rhillian. “She suffered.”
“It’s not just the pain.” The harbour came into view, down the road between rows of buildings. “She doubts.”
“You fear you have lost her. You brought her here to see your vaunted Nasi-Keth, and the grand future of humanity that you promised. Neither has made a good impression. Her foundation is gone, her hope for the cause, her belief in you. She runs to her people because they are her last remaining foundation. Save for Errollyn.” That last with an unpleasant, dry irony.
“She leaves Errollyn because she won’t force him to fight his own people,” Kessligh replied, edgily. “He would have followed her. He follows her too much, she knows that. She will find it difficult enough herself, to fight on that side, she would not inflict it upon Errollyn.”
“Human emotion is a fickle thing. Humans change on a whim.”
“Serrin too,” said Kessligh. “You used to be a nice girl.”
“Petrodor changed that,” Rhillian said bitterly. “You did not mind your tongue on my failings there. Now you play precious.”
The guiding pair of cityfolk turned down a dark, narrow lane. Soon they came to a nondescript door, and knocked a rhythm on the wood. A panel slid back, a password was given, and the door creaked open. The corridor beyond was narrow and gloomy, leading to a ramshackle courtyard beneath an open sky. Beyond the courtyard, a wide door led to a kitchen, grain and flour scattered about, signs of breadmaking, trails leading to a clay oven in the courtyard.
Two more city men awaited in the kitchen, blades drawn. Kessligh judged from their posture that they were ex-Steel, probably officers. A further door opened, and a small figure was ushered iniv›
“You came,” observed the boy Alfriedo Renine. His high voice was calm. Regal, Kessligh thought. Though not in a manner anyone familiar with the Lenay royal family might recognise.
“Alfriedo,” said Rhillian, and made a faint bow. “You seem well. I am pleased.” Kessligh stood with both hands on his staff. The boy seemed to frown, as though displeased that he did not bow as well.
Behind Alfriedo, one of several shadows scoffed loudly. “Be silent, Aleis,” said Alfriedo. And to Rhillian, “I do believe you, Lady Rhillian. I was not mistreated at the Mahl’rhen, quite the contrary. I was unhappy that some of your serrin comrades were killed in my rescue. I would have preferred a negotiated settlement. You have my condolences.”
Again, Rhillian inclined her head. “I accept them. In truth, my comrades were sloppy. Serrin are not known for great defence. We do not build in high walls, as we do not think in straight lines. It is offence to which our minds are most adapted.”
“You do not make threats here!” said the shadow by the kitchen bench behind. Kessligh strained his eyes, but could not make out the face. No doubt Rhillian could observe every feature. “You come because the power swings our way, and you have no choice, you do not make threats!”
“Aleis!” said Alfriedo in annoyance, turning fully about. “Am I the child, or are you? Hold your tongue like a man.” Kessligh was impressed. Alfriedo turned back to Rhillian. “Again, my apologies. Much has occurred, and many tempers raised.”
“I was not making a threat,” Rhillian said calmly. “Merely an observation. The time for threats has passed. I come to talk peace, for the sake of Rhodaan, in the light of the most terrible threat Rhodaan has yet faced.”
“You have finished your collaboration with the Civid Sein?”
“There was no collaboration,” said Rhillian. “They are opportunists. When your mother’s actions forced me to act and suspend the Council, the Civid Sein took the chance to flex their arm.”
“And my mother is dead because of it,” said Alfriedo. For the first time, his voice betrayed emotion.
“A great many people are dead,” Rhillian replied. “A majority of them Civid Sein. If my actions against the Civid Sein at the Justiciary are not sufficient proof that I do not side with their kind, I do not know what is.”
“Son,” Kessligh said tiredly, leaning on his staff, “you must understand the serrin motivation. Serrin do not act on spite. Rhillian was amongst the first to dscover your mother’s death, and was sad about it. She sought to maintain an equilibrium. A balance, to the powers of Tracato. She saw your mother’s faction grow too strong, which in turn caused a backlash from the rural folk, most notably in the form of the Civid Sein-”
“You blame us for their rise?” Alfriedo interrupted, his high voice quavering.
“I’m a military strategist, primarily,” said Kessligh. “To every act on the battlefield, there is a response. As general, I am responsible for my enemy’s actions too, for everything I do, my opponent will counter. A clever general can use this to manipulate his enemy. Do you wish to be a clever general, Alfriedo? Or merely a boy protesting that his opponent did not play by the rules?”
Alfriedo did not reply. His thin shoulders heaved in the silence, as he struggled for calm.
“Your mother had groomed you to rule,” said Kessligh, leaning more closely. “Had proclaimed that yours is the birthright of kings. To rule, you must be a general, and accept that nothing is beyond your control. Some in Lenayin call me the greatest swordsman of that land, and think it a gift granted by the gods or spirits. But in truth, I achieved this merely because I refused to accept that my opponent could best me. I controlled the battle, not him. And if he killed me, it would be my failure, not his success.
“Do not take your losses and griefs as insults inflicted by others, young Alfriedo. If you were truly born to rule, you would accept them as failings of your own, and resolve to learn better.”
Alfriedo gazed at him for a long moment. Kessligh wondered if he had indeed judged the boy rightly, or if this would only push him over the edge.
“You do not believe in the rule of kings,” Alfriedo observed finally. “How do you then claim to know so much of their kind?”
“It is because I know so much of their kind that I do not believe in them. And I speak not merely of kings, but of men. Of leaders of all stripes. A true leader knows that knowledge and wisdom are all, but wisdom tells that not all men possess it. Thus, it would be folly to leave the ruling of lands entirely to kings.”
“Even should that king be you?”
“Suppose it was,” said Kessligh. “Suppose I ruled well. But who would follow?”
“My mother ruled well,” Alfriedo said stubbornly. “As did my ancestors, when Rhodaan was a true kingdom. I would follow.”
“Your ancestors were murderers, thieves and tyrants,” said Kessligh. “The serrin document it well. If you wished I have no doubt they would lend you many writings that say so, writings by reliable humans of the period, not merely by serrin. Your mother attempted to steal the Rhodaani people’s voice in Council from under their noses. She bred hatred among the common folk, and destabilised Rhodaan so that Saalshen felt it had no choice but to step in. She is now dead, you are orphaned, there is blood all over the Justiciary steps, the grand institutions of Rhodaan that have served so well for two centuries are in turmoil, and the Steel is less well prepared for the greatest challenge of its existence than it should be.
“I have hope that you may lead your people well,ng Alfriedo. But have no illusions that should you do so, you would be the first.”
There was a bristling of anger in the kitchen, but this time, no outbursts. Alfriedo remained silent for a moment. Then he looked at Rhillian.
“Our differences remain,” he said to her, “yet our greatest threat is a common one, and marches upon our border from the west. I will make a pledge with you, Lady Rhillian, that all who follow me shall refrain from any violent acts against serrin, Nasi-Keth, or any institution of Rhodaan that we may consider moved against us. In return, you shall allow the Blackboots to re-form, and reinstate all senior city officials dismissed from their institutions. That includes the Council and their councillors, of course. Those who are still alive.”
“I accept your truce offer,” Rhillian said calmly, “and I return it. The Blackboots shall be re-formed with no penalties to those who cast off uniforms and fought in militia. Any who committed crimes against innocents, however, may be brought to justice should witnesses come forward.”
“The only innocents against whom crimes were committed were our women and children at the hands of Civid Sein thugs!” came a snarl from behind. Alfriedo, Rhillian and Kessligh ignored it.
“We will discuss the reinstatement of city officials,” Rhillian continued. “Some, you may recall, have been implicated in treason. Trials for such matters can obviously wait until after the war in the west is resolved, but we must come to an agreement on interim appointees in the meantime.”
“Agreed,” said Alfriedo, frowning in thought. “How?”
“A sitting of the High Table,” said Rhillian. “But first, we must resolve the High Table and Council. At our count, we have lost seven of our hundred councillors dead, with another three unaccounted for. Of those absent ten, six are known to be feudalists.”
“We count six and five,” came the first helpful interjection from behind.
“We shall compare our names and numbers later,” said Alfriedo. “These people must be replaced before Council sits. I believe two of the missing are on the High Table.”
“Indeed. This shall be our first order of business, but there are others on both sides who should attend such discussions. We must agree on a location for a meeting tomorrow, and on who should attend. Once we have made those appointments, we can have the High Table sit, and begin deciding which city officials should be reinstated, and which should be replaced. Agreed?”
“Yes,” said Alfriedo. “Let’s begin.”
“That’s a damn smart kid,” Kessligh remarked as they walked up from the docks some time later, in the company of their Nasi-Keth guards.
“He is,” Rhillian said sombrely. “But intelligence is guarantee of nothing. He is still his mother’s son.”
“We shall see.”
“And they’re all fools to trust a fourteen-year-old to do their negotiating anyway, no matter how smart,” Rhillian sighed. ›
“Human ideals die hard,” said Kessligh. “Logic plays little role.”
“Do you think it will hold?” Rhillian asked him. The truce, she meant.
“We can try. The strength of the Steel is a great blessing, but a minor curse too. No one has taken seriously the prospect that they might actually lose. And so, even confronted by a common threat as immense as this one, it fails to unite Rhodaanis in its face.”
“I must soon leave,” said Rhillian. “I am ordering the last significant force of talmaad in Tracato to go in support of the Steel, they shall need all the help they can get.”
“Must you command them?”
“I have experience,” said Rhillian. “It is expected.”
“If the Steel are defeated,” said Kessligh, “all Rhodaani forces as can muster should depart for Enora immediately. We must continue the fight from there.”
“You think a defeat is likely?”
“Not likely. But where the Army of Lenayin is in play, anything is possible. I am stuck here in Tracato, so I have nothing better to do than make contingencies. The Steel is vastly experienced, but the one thing they have never experienced is defeat. I do not think it shall be pretty. They are a complex, structured force, and rely upon total control of the battlefield to maintain that structure. In defeat and withdrawal, that structure shall disappear and will be nearly impossible to regain, in the face of what numbers are arrayed against them. I predict either victory or rout. In the event of a rout, the Steel’s commanders shall march as fast as possible to Enora. Retreating to Tracato shall make no sense, it would be just asking for encirclement.”
“And given the Steel’s strength, Tracato has allowed its own defensive walls to fall into disrepair, and the city to expand well beyond them.”
“You see the problem. The border is defensible. Tracato is not.”
“And Saalshen’s border shall be open to its enemies for the first time in two hundred years.”
There was fear in Rhillian’s voice. Rhodaan’s people too would be at great risk of the predations of invading Larosans, but Kessligh did not think her fear selfish. Rhodaanis were human, and invaders would expect to return them to the status of vassals beneath a feudal overlord. Serrin, to the Larosans and others, were demons and deserved death to the last child.
“They must deal with the entire Saalshen Bacosh before attempting Saalshen itself,” said Kessligh, with more confidence than he felt. “That will be no easy thing, even if Rhodaan were to fall.”
“But they’ll never have so many forces mustered for the task as now,” Rhillian said quietly. “They’ll not waste the opportunity, no matter what their casualties. They’ll take the plains as far as the Telesil foothills, as Leyvaan did last time, only they won’t repeat his mistake and march into the forests. Those they’ll take piece by piece, clearing with axes as they go. It may take decades, but Saalshen will die a slow death. We cannot defeat such massed armour on our own.”
If only, Kessligh was tempted to say, Saalshen had built heavy, armoured armies of its own. If only they had been willing to reorganise their society to accommodate such a militaristic change. With serrin, “if only” solved nothing. They were what they were, and change came to them with the utmost difficulty. And perhaps, he had often pondered, in changing to face such a threat, the serrin would lose that very thing that made them so worth defending in the first place.
“I tried my best,” Rhillian said, her voice small. “I tried to keep Rhodaan stable. I do not have a good record of achieving in human society that which I attempt to achieve, but…but I do not see what else I could have done.”
For a moment, Rhillian appeared as Kessligh had rarely seen her-lonely and vulnerable.
“I do not believe you could have done much differently,” Kessligh told her. “Lady Renine and her followers saw the coming war as a chance to retake control of Rhodaan for the feudalists. To place one’s own group above the defence of all Rhodaan is traitorous to say the least, and she got what she deserved. Had you done nothing, the Steel would never have stood for it, and their intervention would likely have placed some general in charge with a far less balanced attitude than yours. The Civid Sein were a nasty complication, and as much a failing of the Tol’rhen and supposedly civilised thinking as anything else. Even I did not see the extent of that problem until it was on top of us. You dealt with each problem in turn, and released the Steel in time to confront the Larosans, with the issue at least temporarily settled. I don’t think you did such a bad job.”
Rhillian gave him a sideways look. “And what do you think to do now?”
“Reorganise what’s left of the Nasi-Keth. Try to keep the peace here in your absence. Hope for the best, and plan for the worst. We shall not let Saalshen fall, Rhillian. Serrin civilisation is the greatest asset that we humans possess. We must save it for our own sake, not merely for yours.”
“A man named Deani was of the same opinion in Petrodor,” Rhillian said sadly. “He was killed when Palopy House was attacked. Justice Sinidane thought much the same. We found him in the cells beneath his Justiciary, tortured and dead of shock. Those who hold such opinions do not live for long, in human lands. And now one of you whom I have loved has run away to the other side.”
“Sasha has not stopped caring,” Kessligh said quietly. “She cares too much. She struggles to decide whom she loves more.”
Sasha sat on a wet stone by the roadside, and waited in the rain. After a while, she heard a single set of hooves approaching. Then, about a bend in the road, a small horse came galloping, ridden by a man in a long cloak. Sasha’s horse looked up at the approach, ears pricked. She seemed to accept Sasha’s calm, and was not unduly alarmed.
The small horse stopped before her, stamping and frothing, and the rider pushed wet hair and hood from his eyes. The left side of his face was tattooed, in a perfect dividing line down brow, nose and chin.
“I am as welcome here as you,” Sasha replied in Lenay, and pulled from her cloak a crimson-and-yellow striped flag. It was the flag of the local House of Neishure, whose riders had escorted her to this point in the morning, proclaiming it the most obvious route to approach Rhodaan.
The outrider stared at her more closely. “Who are you? Have you a name?”
“I do,” said Sasha. “But it is not for you.”
“The King of Lenayin rides this way!” snapped the rider. His accent marked him a southerner. Neysh, perhaps. “I’ll have your name!”
“Come and take it from me,” Sasha suggested. Her face remained hidden beneath the hood. The rider peered further, his horse edging closer. Surely he suspected. But his suspicions would make no sense. He glared at her, and tore off up the crossroad, leaving Sasha alone in the falling rain. After a moment of silence, he came galloping back, having checked that reach and not found an ambush. He waited opposite her, looking back up the road. Soon another rider appeared and the first signalled to him. That man signalled back, plunged his horse into the stream, up the far embankment, and into the forest. Checking for ambush there, too. In case she were a lone spotter. Or a distraction of some kind. Or a lure.
Sasha waited. Two more riders came galloping, and talked to the first, who pointed to Sasha, and the crossroad, his words inaudible. Then he galloped on, and the remaining two split, one up the crossroad, the other across the stream and into the forest at Sasha’s back. Again, she was alone.
After a long while, the rain eased to a drizzle. More riders arrived, and she was similarly challenged. She gave them no more than she had the others. One seemed about to take it further, but another persuaded him otherwise, in furious whispers. They galloped on, save one, who retreated as far as the approaching bend, and awaited the column.
Finally, there came the sound of many soft hooves, horses walking. But many horses. A chink and rattle of armour and equipment, and a squeal of leather. The sound hung in the air long past the moment when it seemed that surely the vanguard would appear about the bend.
At last, the vanguard’s banners appeared, colours of royalty, of Lenayin, and of each of the eleven Lenay provinces. There was a Verenthane star, too, mounted on a pole. Sasha frowned, and thought dark thoughts. The vanguard soldiers were of the provincial companies, Lenayin’s most well equipped soldiers, riding tall on fine horses. Unusually, she saw they all carried shields. Some things, it seemed, were changing.
Behind the vanguard rode a contingent of Royal Guard, resplendent in red and gold. The nobility followed, many wearing fine, unfamiliar cloaks over Lenay armour and leathers. The outrider who had waited back now singled out one man from the group, riding alongside while pointing ahead. As the vanguard passed, that man came off the road and stopped before Sasha, several Royal Guards and lords at his back.
The lead rider came before them all, upon a great, roan warhorse. Broad, powerful, and oh-so-familiar. “Do you await anyone in particular?” asked her brother Prince Koenyg with amusement. The lords behind him laughed.
“I don’t know,” Sasha replied. “Are you anyone in particular?”
Koenyg frowned, and opened his mouth to retort. Then paused. And stared. “Is it…?” He edged his warhorse forward several more steps, peering closely.
“Easy Your Highness!” called one of the Royal Guardsmen. “It could be assassins!”
“Sasha?” Koenyg whispered. “Is that Sasha?” Slowly, achingly, Sasha slid off her rock, and pulled back her hood. And looked up at her brother.
Koenyg swung down from his saddle in such a hurry that Sasha’s hand twitched toward the blade within her cloak. But Koenyg made no move for his weapon, strode forward and embraced her. The pain of it nearly made her scream. Koenyg seemed to realise something was wrong, and released her.
“Sasha? Are you hurt?”
“A few cuts,” she gasped, and swallowed hard. “Flesh wounds. I’m fine.”
He seemed about to ask further but stopped. And to Sasha’s further astonishment, he cupped her face in his hands. “Sister,” he said, smiling. “You came back to us! All of Lenayin is united in this quest for the first time in history! This is a great time for healing old wounds, and building a new Lenayin. I’m so pleased you’re here. So pleased.”
He kissed her on the forehead. Sasha was too stunned to speak. She had not expected this at all. Koenyg seemed as she had only rarely seen him before-happy, and content with the world. Riding off to war, at the head of a united Army of Lenayin. It began to come clear in Sasha’s head, precisely what Koenyg saw in this whole adventure. An opportunity to meld together all the fractious regions and beliefs of Lenayin by the only forge all Lenays would respect-the fire of battle. She did not like his methods, but she had to admit, it was certainly a plan. Perhaps it would even work.
“Where is Kessligh?” Koenyg pressed. “I heard that you and he fought to defend Dockside in the War of the King. You must tell me your tales. It’s rare that a sibling should have grander tales of battle to tell than I. And I heard that Alythia had joined you after House Halmady fell…. I suppose you’ve been in Tracato, yes?”
There were more riders passing by, looking curiously to see this dismounted gathering by the roadside. She could hear exclamations, and men calling to others. Soon the news would spread along the column like fire through grass.
Before she could answer Koenyg, more horses arrived and riders leaped off. Damon pressed through those surrounding, and Myklas. Koenyg had to tackle them to restrain them from smothering her. “She’s hurt you fools! Be gentle!”
Damon pushed his elder brother away, fighting off an idiot grin. “Sasha, are you…?”
“I’m all right,” she said, with tears in her eyes. She hugged him, and he replied with gentle pressure. Then Myklas, whose idiot grin was unrestrained. “You’ve grown,” Sasha observed.
“You’ve shrunk,” Myklas retorted, and kissed her roughly.
?Sasha, where have you been?” Damon asked. “Was it Tracato?”
“Aye. Kessligh’s still there.”
“And Alythia?”
“How did she cope living as a pauper on Dockside for half a year?” Myklas asked joyfully. “I would have given anything to see that!” Koenyg cuffed him on the head.
Sasha looked at the sodden grass. She’d almost been hoping for a frosty reception, she realised. From Koenyg at least. Now, they were all together, and almost a family, for the first time in…spirits, she couldn’t think of when. She wanted to enjoy it. Wanted to talk with her brothers and tell all her tales, and listen to theirs, and laugh, and eat and perhaps even down a cup of wine in their presence, where no priest would see her. But it had to be done. It was a duty of blood, that she be here. That they hear it from her own mouth.
“Alythia’s dead,” she said softly. “I saw the body.” For a moment, there was no sound but the great passing of the column. Koenyg looked pale. Damon, aghast. Myklas, disbelieving.
“No!” Myklas insisted. Then he stamped in fury, his eyes spilling. “No! You’re wrong! She’s not dead!”
Koenyg grabbed him, a hard immobilising arm about the younger man’s shoulders. Myklas tried to fight him off, but Damon grabbed him and Myklas collapsed against Damon’s shoulder, sobbing. Sasha’s own tears escaped her, and she was drawn into the four-sided embrace. Her brothers’ arms about her hurt, but that was well. Everything hurt. They grieved together, a small circle of pain by the roadside. And Sasha wondered what it said about her family that pain and war should unite them at last, where so little else had worked.
The siblings took lunch in the same carriage that had carried Sofy from Baen-Tar to Sherdaine. It was a shameful thing for a Lenay prince to travel by carriage, but it was the only way all four could converse together without halting. The king rode further back in the column today. Word was travelling to him of Sasha’s arrival. Sasha did not look forward to that inevitable meeting.
She told her brothers the story from the beginning. Her time in Petrodor, Kessligh’s struggles to unite the Nasi-Keth, her friendship with Rhillian, and the trials that followed. Then Tracato. Koenyg listened grimly to hear of the troubles there. Damon looked wearily resigned. And Myklas, completely impatient with any politics, wishing only to hear of Alythia’s end. When she finished, none of them spoke. The carriage wheels clattered and bounced on the road, jolting Sasha’s wounds. She’d felt altogether more comfortable in a saddle.
“That is quite a tale,” Koenyg said finally. “You and I shall talk some more on affairs in Tracato, and Saalshen’s moves for power there. We shall talk on the Steel’s formations and tactics, also. But I must know…you say the Steel have left Tracato?”
“Those formations that had been fighting in Elisse, yes,” said Sasha. “It has taken me ten days to get here. The Steel moves more slowly, but are remarkably fast for such a heavy formation. They are all in position now, I am certain.”
“And the Enorans?” Koenyg pressed.
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“I have not been in Enora, I could not say. But rumour was that the Enorans were quite unnerved by Tracato’s troubles. Some rumours suggested there may have been Enoran formations readying to march into Rhodaan to restore order, should the feudalists grasp control. But even if true, I suspect they too would be in position by now. You’re late.”
“The Torovans are late,” Koenyg corrected. “And weddings between nations take an obscene amount of time. But it’s true, it would have been nice to get here a week earlier.”
“And Ilduur?” Damon asked.
“Ilduur is mountainous,” Sasha replied. “Most Rhodaanis don’t trust them, from feudals to Civid Sein. Ilduur has natural fortifications, there is no way through for any invading army, save through narrow passes that would be death against far lesser forces than the Ilduuri can muster. So the Ilduuri tend to sit in their mountain strongholds and wait. They are sworn by oath to defend their blood brothers of Enora and Rhodaan, but they show little enthusiasm for it. Their posture is defensive, and they will not launch a flanking thrust to threaten Enora’s attackers, as Enora will and has for Rhodaan.” She looked at Koenyg. “What’s the plan?”
“It was to be a two-pronged attack, against Rhodaan and Enora. But this news of Tracato’s troubles continues to mount, I now think it would best be focused upon the Rhodaanis…if the Rhodaani Steel has been suffering some desertions, and some of their soldiers have been fighting in Elisse, Tracato, and now to the border, they’ll be tired, and perhaps disillusioned. A breakthrough against Rhodaan would seem more likely now than Enora.”
It seemed very hopeful, but Sasha held her tongue. Any advantage against the Steel was a good thing. “So you’ll be thinking a feint against the Enorans?” she asked.
“Perhaps a third of the total force. Or perhaps a quarter made to look like a third, if we think we can get away with it. Enough to hold the Enorans from a flanking sweep, and focus our maximum force upon the Rhodaanis.”
“They’re not that strong, surely!” Myklas scoffed. “Rhodaan and Enora have maybe thirty thousand each, but even with Torovan understrength, we number a hundred and forty. There’s never been an army of this scale in all the history of Rhodia!”
“You’ll need all of them,” Sasha told Koenyg, not bothering to answer her youngest brother. “Focusing strength is good. Even if successful, it will be a close run thing.”
Koenyg nodded, not contesting her assessment. Sasha was relieved at least to see that he had a clear idea of what they were up against.
Koenyg leaned forward, and looked her hard in the eyes. “Sasha. I will not lie to you. You are useful to me, and to this war. You have great standing amongst the central and eastern Goeren-yai, and many of them are still not too keen on the fight. Damon has been attempting to drum some sense into their thick skulls about the need to change their fighting styles, with some limited success. Your own words, from Kessligh’s student, could convince them.
“But I must know. Kessligh is still in Tracato. He shall perhaps not assist the Steel directly, but he most certainly assists the defe of Rhodaan more broadly. As does your friend Errollyn. As do many others of your former friends and comrades. Now you choose to ride here with us. Tell me truly-when the horns are sounded and men start dying, where shall your loyalties lie?”
Sasha’s gaze was expressionless. “With Lenayin,” she said flatly. “Always.”
Koenyg nodded. Convinced, perhaps, but…“Have you lost faith?” he wondered. “Kessligh had great hopes for the Nasi-Keth. He had great hopes for you, as a leader of the Nasi-Keth. What of those dreams, Sasha? Where do they lie?”
“Aside,” said Sasha. There was no emotion in her voice, because she did not feel any. She felt…empty. “I cannot say that I have abandoned them entirely. But they lie far aside all the same. They were cast aside not by me, but by the factions of Tracato, Nasi-Keth amongst them. I saw that the civilisation they had built was but a thin shroud over barbarism. I saw Nasi-Keth themselves, who should have known better, casting their lot in with a mob who were little better than the frothing Riverside mobs in Petrodor, only better dressed and led by intellectuals. I gave them my best, I gave them a fair chance, and they betrayed all my dreams, tortured me and Errollyn, and murdered my sister.
“I am here because one dream lies shattered. I cannot stand to see my nation shattered as well. I have come to defend the most important thing I have left, the thing I still believe in with all my heart and soul-my people, and my family. I may be only one person, but I am duty bound to help however I can. Lenayin will need every asset at its disposal.”
Koenyg nodded. His look was one of firm approval. Sasha reflected that it was perhaps the only time she could recall him looking at her in that way.
“I will find you a role,” he said, “never fear about that. You have done well for Lenayin. Welcome home.”
He opened the carriage door and got out, walking to where a Royal Guardsman trailed his horse to one side.
“How good are they?” Damon asked when he was gone. “The Steel, I mean?” Sasha saw from his sombre look that he had grasped something that perhaps Koenyg had not.
“Good,” she said. “Surely you’ve been speaking with Bacosh veterans of past wars?”
Damon nodded. “But they cannot give a full picture. Usually their fights were too brief, and consisted of everyone dying or running away.”
“That’s been the pattern for two hundred years,” she admitted.
“What will it be like?” asked Myklas. He would be expected to participate in the attack, Sasha knew. At seventeen summers now, he was well and truly grown. Oh Myk.
“Hell,” said Sasha. For the first time in memory, she thought she spied a flicker of fear in Myklas’s eyes. It seemed a time for such firsts, among siblings. “Damon, we must think of some tactic to reduce the effectiveness of their artillery. Their infantry lines are tough enough, their tactics negate the primary Lenay strength, which is swordsmanship. We fight as individuals, they fight as a single entity. But even so, if we get that close, we can win, because it is what we’re best at, and Lenay warriors will never lose their nerve.
“But I’ve spoken with Steel soldiers, I befriended the commander of the Tracato school for Steel officers, and I spoke at length with my serrin friend Aisha, of her experiences in the war in Elisse. And my biggest fear now is that Lenay warriors may be too brave. Previous armies have survived encounters with the Steel because their nerve broke, and they ran away to fight another day. Lenay warriors do not retreat easily. And I worry that should we stay too long, under that kind of artillery fire, there will be no Army of Lenayin left.”
Damon nodded slowly. “It will be cavalry,” he said. “It is where we are most evenly matched. We must use cavalry to flank their infantry and disrupt their artillery.”
“It’s been tried before,” said Sasha. “By two centuries of military thinkers. None worked.”
“Why not?” asked Myklas.
“Because we are the attackers,” said Damon, “which means they get to choose the ground on which they fight. They know their border very well, and have altered the landscape in many places to suit possible encounters. There are many fortresses and walls, channelling attackers through awkward approaches and limiting the room on the flanks for cavalry. They force the attackers to charge infantry straight up a selected approach, with little cavalry support, and the Steel artillery scythes them down like wheat. What’s left, the Steel infantry are vastly overmatched for.”
“And they’ve talmaad,” Sasha added. “Lenay cavalry may be a match for Steel cavalry if we can find enough open ground to fight on, but no one can match the talmaad on horseback. Mounted archery is a terrible skill in the right hands. I wonder we’ve never tried it ourselves.”
“There’re many useful ideas Lenayin has never tried,” Damon said darkly.
Myklas gave him an unimpressed look. “That becomes tiresome, Damon.”
“Defeat will seem more so,” Damon muttered.
The column halted for the evening by another castle, where local lords hosted all Lenay nobility and royalty in a feast. At Damon’s insistence Sasha was ushered upstairs to the lord and lady’s chambers, where maids assisted her to wash, and apply her ointments. Soon Damon and Myklas entered, ignoring the protests of the maids.
“It’s all right!” Sasha announced tiredly as she lay face down, naked but for a towel over her buttocks. A maid tried to hide the rest of her with a robe, but Sasha shoved it aside, and waved impatiently for them to continue pressing the ointment-soaked cloths to her worst injuries, the burns in particular.
“Great fucking gods on a horse,” Myklas muttered. “How in all the hells did you ride here from Tracato like that?” He walked around her, as though examining some strange fish washed up on the riverbank.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Sasha murmured into the bedsheets.
Damon sat on the bed alongside. He grasped her hand. “This Reynold Hein,” he said quietly. “If we find him, when we reach Tracato, may I have him?”
Sasha laughed, humourlessly. “There’s a queue.”
“Does it hurt very badly?” Myklas asked.
“Less than it did. It looks so bad now because of all the scabbing. When they peel it will be better. Perhaps a week.” She turned her head to look at Myklas. “Did you come to see that I wasn’t exaggerating?”
“They’re shit,” said Myklas. “I knew you weren’t lying.”
“Who’s shit?”
“Oh the usual noble cow pats. They say you’re exaggerating your injuries to make yourself a martyr for Lenayin.”
“When I’m actually a traitor,” Sasha concluded. It didn’t upset her. She’d expected nothing better.
“Sasha, I need to warn you,” Damon said. “Be careful. You’re truly no safer here than you were in Tracato. Probably less.”
“I didn’t come here to be safe.”
“The northern provinces all want you dead, of course,” Damon continued. “Much of the nobility of all provinces, too. I don’t think you can ride with the vanguard, too many high nobility ride there, and will take it ill.”
“That’s shit,” Myklas snorted, lounging into a chair beside the bed. “She’s our sister, she should ride with her brothers.”
“It is not our decision to make,” Damon said firmly. “We can’t start a fight with the lords now just before a war, not even for Sasha.”
“I agree,” said Sasha. “Where do you want me?”
“Valhanan would not work,” said Damon, and Sasha’s heart sank. “They march too far back in the column, I’d like you nearer the front. And Koenyg is right, it would sow division. It is well known that the Goeren-yai of Valhanan have doubts about this war, having a former leader such as yourself ride amongst them would only remind them of the things that divide them from the Lenay nobility, and all the reasons they should not fight. You must ride with nobility, to show them you are no threat, and will not agitate the Goeren-yai.”
“Well no one north, east or probably south will have me,” Sasha pointed out. “Taneryn would, but you don’t want to ignite that again. You’re not going to dump me with the bloody west?”
“I have an idea,” said Damon. “Tomorrow we shall see.”
Sasha buried her face against the mattress, as the maids continued to soak and apply their cloths. In all her haste to return to her people, she’d forgotten how terrible Lenay politicking could be. Only now did it truly occur to her just how few of her people would be as pleased to see her as she was to see them.