Arms-Commander (43 page)

With a nod to Shalya, Saryn eased the gelding toward Caeris and what remained of the Lornian squad, also recovering weapons and spoils. Dyala and Kayli flanked her as she rode.

From what Saryn had been able to sense during the fight, after she had used her white-darkness-expanded blade, less than a handful of riders had managed to ride over the ridge and take the back trail. Their tracks indicated—since Saryn could sense little—that they were not headed westward, though, but almost due south, toward Cardara and the lands of Lord Orsynn. Perhaps thirty or so had escaped her dark blade and fled toward Suedara and attacked third squad. None of those had escaped, although Saryn wasn't exactly happy about the casualties.

“Commander.” Behind Caeris's voice was something, not quite fear and not quite respect.

“Most of the Jeranyi are dead. Once you've completed matters here, please join up with us for the return to Nuelda.”

“We're returning?”

“Less than a double handful of Jeranyi escaped. For the moment, I doubt that they will be any threat to Lord Jharyk's folk.”

“Less than a…out of fivescore?”

“The rest are dead.”

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn wasn't sure, not with her uncertain eyesight, but she thought the squad leader looked a trace pale. She smiled politely and turned the gelding back in the direction of Suedara.

More than two glasses later, Saryn's combined force was back in formation and ready to ride. Given the size of the Jeranyi force and their reputation, the casualty numbers for her detachment wouldn't have seemed that bad to the Lornians—nine dead, five of them Lornians, four of the junior recruit guards, and six wounded, none seriously enough not to ride, of which three were Lornians. The regency force had also ended up with nearly forty captured mounts and, according to the count of the squad leaders, some eighty-three dead Jeranyi. Unhappily, somewhere between ten and fifteen of the dead Jeranyi had merely been wounded in fighting second squad—until the locals got to them near the end of the skirmish.

Saryn's head was still splitting. Closing her eyes didn't seem to provide much relief from the shimmering arrows of light that flashed across her field of vision and stabbed through her eyes and into her skull. She also didn't want to think about what she had done…or how.

After receiving final reports from the three squad leaders, Saryn ordered the Lornians to lead. Then she eased her mount into position beside Caeris, who did not look in her direction for the first kay, not until they were well north of Suedara and riding northeast toward Nuelda.

“Do you think they have more raiders around here, ser?”

“Not all that close, but I'd be surprised if this is the last that we hear of them. But it won't be for a while, and we can't stay here and wait.”

The squad leader nodded slowly.

“They probably won't attack Lord Jharyk's lands soon. They've already plundered most of the towns here.” As she finished, Saryn realized that many of the coppers and silvers taken as plunder had probably come from those hamlets and towns, but she wasn't about to try to figure out how to return them, not when there were no coins coming from either the regency or Westwind to support her force. But…she still couldn't help but feel a trace guilty.

Another half kay passed before the Lornian squad leader spoke again. “Ser…how did you know that they'd attack Suedara and take this road?”

“They've tried to plunder every other hamlet and town close to the end of the West Pass. This is the one with the most goods and women. They were trying to drive everyone here, then hit here and return to Jerans.”

“But why this road?”

“What other road would they take?” replied Saryn with a smile.

“They could have come in from the north almost as easy, or come across the bridge into Suedara from the east. You just seemed to know.”

“Sometimes, you just have to trust your judgment and act.” Even as she replied, Saryn couldn't help but wonder. How had she known? It had felt obvious to her, but it had been more than that. She'd
known.
Saryn swallowed.
Does it come from sensing order and chaos flows? A feel for what must be? Or was it just a lucky guess?

Saryn almost would have preferred the last…but she'd felt something beyond certainty.

Saryn did not press on the ride returning to Nuelda, and her force did not arrive until well after dark on sevenday. Even so, by the time she was riding past the nearly dark front entry to Jharyk's redbrick villa, the lord-holder, accompanied by two servants bearing brass lanterns, had hurried out to meet her. As she reined up, she could see lanterns being hurriedly lit in the villa, and presumably in the rear courtyards as well.

Jharyk stood there fully dressed, and as dapper as before. “Commander, you sent no word, and we did not expect you, especially not so soon.”

“Good evening, Lord Jharyk.” Saryn had no trouble discerning the irritation in the lord-holder's voice and posture. She forced the hoarseness from her voice and ignored the lightknives attacking her eyes and the throbbing in her skull.

“Might I ask what occurred?” His eyes flicked to the guards, then back to Saryn.

“You were right to be concerned.” Saryn smiled politely. “There was a good company or so of Jeranyi raiders who were attacking your lands and hamlets. They had sacked all of them except Suedara, mostly before we arrived, before we could bring them to bay.”

“And?”

“Ten of them escaped. The other eighty-three or so are dead.”

“I presume you have recovered some mounts and goods for us…to compensate us for the devastation we have suffered.”

“They're Jeranyi horses, and they will be used to mount more Westwind guards to serve the regency.” Saryn kept her tone polite. “They were paid for in blood. Mostly Jeranyi blood, but also Lornian regency forces' blood and Westwind guards' blood.”

“My people have suffered greatly. Should they have no recompense?” asked Jharyk smoothly.

“If they need recompense, Lord Jharyk, perhaps they should turn to you. You did not have to raise and train armsmen to drive off the raiders, and that surely should leave some coins. We've removed the Jeranyi for now, and, after we get a good night's rest and food and fodder, we'll be heading back to Lornth in the morning.”

“You're leaving that soon? What if they return?”

“They may return, but I doubt it will be soon. Not with nine-tenths of their force destroyed.”

“I see. Did you not capture any?”

“There were perhaps twenty wounded, but”—Saryn shrugged—“the townspeople of Suedara took out their vengeance on them while we were running down the stragglers.” That wasn't quite true. It had happened as much because Saryn had been barely functioning, and the guards had been more concerned about weapons and stray mounts, as well as possible armed stragglers. “What ever simple fare your kitchens could prepare would be appreciated,” she added.

“After such a battle, we will manage.”

“Thank you.”

The evening meal was late and simple—cheese over noodles with fried cakes. That was fine with Saryn, who ate with the guards. She did sleep in the villa, if with the chamber bolted shut and a chair wedged under the door, hoping that a softer bed might let her sleep more soundly and recover from her use of the order and chaos flows.

Even so, she woke early the next morning, and while the lightknives had not totally disappeared, they appeared infrequently, and the throbbing in her skull had subsided to a dull ache. She washed and dressed quickly, and one of the serving girls brought her breakfast.

She was in the courtyard, ready to mount up, when Jharyk appeared again.

He appeared very subdued, and Saryn had to wonder if he'd talked to the Lornian squad leader or Saensyr. “Commander…I must apologize for any abruptness I may have conveyed last night. I was astounded that you returned so quickly and with such a staggering victory.”

“As we both know, Lord Jharyk, it is a temporary victory. That is why it needed to be absolute. We of Westwind are most familiar with the need to destroy enemies so that it will take time for them to regroup. We always hope that will suggest a certain wisdom in not provoking another attack. At times, as with the regency, it has. At other times, as with Gallos, it has not. I would like to think that the Jeranyi would be wise. I doubt they will be. Some lords are far too interested in amassing power at any cost. In the end, they lose everything. So it has been with the Jeranyi, and so it will probably be again.” Saryn inclined her head politely. “We do appreciate your food and fodder, and your continued support of the regency. We have left five mounts as some recompense. They are slightly strained, but they are basically sound, and in a few eightdays will be worth far more.”

Jharyk looked at her but did not speak.

“I would that I could offer more, Lord Jharyk, but because several lords, unlike you, have been remiss in remitting their tariffs, the treasury of the regency is not what it could be.”
Or what it will be, if I have anything to do about it.

“I understand, Commander. It may be that will not be an issue in the future.”

Saryn could almost hear the words “one way or another,” although the lord-holder only smiled politely. “It may not be. We need to be on our way.”

“Of course.”

Saryn mounted quickly, checking the saddle sheath before her knee. On the ride back, she'd made certain that she again had three blades, two in her harness and one in the sheath.

Then she rode across the courtyard to where the Lornian squad was forming up.

Caeris rode to meet her. “Commander.”

“Squad leader, I'm sending you and Saensyr back to Lornth with your squad and with the three wounded guards—and with all but five spare mounts.”

“Ser?”

“The regent's orders were for you to defend Lord Jharyk's lands against the Jeranyi. You and your men did that admirably. We wouldn't have been able to do what we did without you.” Saryn paused. “I'm very concerned that the remaining Jeranyi may cause trouble with Lord Orsynn, and we're going to follow them for a bit, just to make sure there's not more trouble. I'd be exceeding our agreement with the regency if you were to accompany us. We will take the regency banner, just so that there's no confusion.”

“Yes, ser.”

Even with her pain-diminished senses, Saryn sensed both worry and relief. “Also, you'll be able to tell the Lady Regent that we destroyed the Jeranyi force threatening Lord Jharyk's lands and people. She needs to hear that as soon as possible. I'll be sending a dispatch with one of my guards to confirm your report.”

“Yes, ser.” That thought clearly cheered Caeris.

“Oh…by the way, did Lord Jharyk ask you about what happened in Suedara?”

Caeris frowned. “Yes, ser. This morning he talked to both Saensyr and me. We didn't say much. Was that…?”

“No…that was fine. He just seemed to know more than I'd told him last night. I took him offguard, and I'm sure he had more questions this morning.”

“He had some. He was surprised at how few we lost for how many Jeranyi we killed. Then he thanked us and said he needed to talk to you, ser.”

“He did. I think he understands more and is even more inclined to support the regency.” Saryn smiled. “We'll leave together. Once we're beyond the town, you'll head to Lornth.”

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn rode back to first squad.

“First and second squads ready to ride, ser,” offered Shalya.

“Have someone pick up the regency banner from the Lornians,” said Saryn. “Then we'll head out.”

“Yes, ser.” Shalya turned in the saddle. “Fryada, we'll be taking the regency banner. Get it from the Lornian squad. They're expecting you.”

With a nod, the guard turned her mount out from the column and headed back toward Caeris and the Lornians.

Shalya turned back to Saryn. “I‘d wager that Caeris was pleased to know he could head back to Lornth.”

“Relieved, I think.”

“They did all right for a bunch that hasn't fought much.”

“They did, but I'd wager that Caeris will have a hard time explaining losing three men of every ten to the undercaptain.”

“That's because they haven't fought anyone in ten years.” At times it was hard to believe that it had been only twelve years since they had left the
Winterlance
in orbit.

Saryn just nodded, her eyes going to Fryada, returning with the furled regency banner.

Once the guard was back in position, Shalya turned and checked over the squad, then ordered, “First squad…prepare to ride!”

Saryn rode beside the squad leader as they headed down from the holding into the town. In the early morning, the streets of Nuelda were almost deserted, and those few who were out slipped away as they saw the riders.

Saryn couldn't help but think about the casualties second squad had taken. Not all of them had been because of the shortness of the recruits' training. Some of it, Saryn feared, had occurred because of where she had positioned Yulia's squad. They'd had to face into the rising sun, not directly, but even at an angle that well might have been a problem. Saryn hadn't considered it because in the Westhorns, where all the roads and trails were beneath cliffs and mountains, early-morning sunlight was never a problem. Shadows were.

She shook her head. There was still so much she had to learn about Lornth and the lowlands…and she still had thoughts about the ancient Cyadoran dwelling and what it represented, although she couldn't have explained totally what it represented, beyond the clear tradition of feminine submission.

By midmorning on fourday, Saryn and her two squads had found the road that ran as directly as possible from Lornth to Carda, the largest town in Cardara, Lord Orsynn's holding, and were riding to the south under high, hazy clouds. Thankfully, they had seen no more rain, and the last marker stone indicated that Cardara lay ten kays ahead. Saryn was again doubting the wisdom of her decision to follow the fleeing Jeranyi, but there had been more than enough hoofprints in the road dust and on the shoulder of the road that it appeared the raiders were headed toward Carda, following the road over what seemed endless rolling rises, not even hills, most of them planted in wheat corn or other crops, although a few were lightly forested.

Saryn doubted that the Jeranyi were riding to raid the town, and that suggested even worse possibilities. At least, the lightknives that had plagued her after the fight with the Jeranyi had faded away during the first day's ride from Nuelda. That had been a relief.

Ahead of the column rode a pair of outriders. As the first neared the top of the next rise, not quite half a kay away, she turned immediately and waved her partner back. Saryn immediately extended her senses to their limit, barely discerning riders in a long column headed toward them.

“Show the regency banner!” Saryn ordered. “Bring it to the fore.” As one of the junior guards rode forward with the banner, Saryn glanced back at the outriders, both moving at a good canter toward her.

As the two neared the Westwind force, Saryn tried to estimate the distances. First she glanced to the last rise behind her squads, but it was almost two kays away, while the rise before them was perhaps eight hundred yards away. She sensed the position of the riders ahead, then she nodded. Her squads would reach the crest of the road while the oncoming riders were still almost a kay away and on lower ground.

The first outrider to reach Saryn pulled her mount in beside the commander. “Ser…there must be three companies riding this way. I don't think they saw us, and their scouts aren't but a quarter kay or so ahead of their vanguard.”

“Could you tell who they are?”

“Two companies are in blue and white. The third…they look like Jeranyi.”

“Blue and white,” murmured Saryn.
Most likely Orsynn's colors.
“What's the ground like on the other side of the rise?”

“Same as here, ser. Fields of potatoes, it looks like, wheat-corn in places, close to being harvested. All of it low crops. There's nothing that would stop them from spreading out and flanking us…well, except in the vale way down to the west, and there are some trees there.”

Except that they don't know that we're here. Not yet. Do we really want to confront them? But if we don't at least offer them the chance to be friendly…then what will they claim?
Saryn had the definite feeling that she needed to appear with the regency banner and see how the Lornians reacted.

After a moment, she nodded. “Head back to the rise, but stay out of sight. Ride slowly enough that you don't raise dust.”

“Yes, ser.”

Once the outriders headed back up the road, Shalya looked to Saryn. “That doesn't sound good.”

“No. It looks like the southern lord-holders are in rebellion, whether they call it that or not, and they've probably hired some of the Jeranyi mercenaries. They were probably paid to attack Lord Jharyk because he's supported the regency.”

“Then they'll attack him again, won't they?”

“Not yet. He doesn't have enough armsmen to make a difference. If the southern lord-holders win, they'll deal with him later.”
And if they don't, the regency will doubtless feel obligated to reward him, self-centered as he is.

Saryn continued to study the Lornian forces as her own squads neared the crest of the road, but from what she could sense, the Lornians had yet to learn that a regency force was approaching them.
A regency force?
She shook her head, thinking about the irony of Westwind guards being the strongest forces available to Lady Zeldyan.

She still wondered about the wisdom of confronting the Lornians, but she certainly couldn't determine their intentions by fleeing from them, and she'd rather have the high ground, gentle as the southern slope seemed to be.

Less than a quarter glass passed before the Westwind squads reached the crest of the road.

“Squads halt!” Saryn ordered. “Reform ten across, first squad on the left, second squad on the right.”

“Squads halt!…” Both Shalya and Yulia repeated the orders, modified for their own squads.

Saryn studied the oncoming riders, who continued for almost another two hundred yards before coming to a stop.

For a time, nothing happened.

Then a single figure rode up the gentle slope toward the Westwind lines, bearing a white parley banner.

Saryn rode forward slightly and reined up, but took the precaution of unsheathing a blade and resting it across her legs.

The young man, an undercaptain, reined up. “I bring terms from Lord Orsynn.”

“Terms?” replied Saryn. “Since when does a lord-holder impose terms on the regency?”

The young man scanned the ranks of Westwind guards. “How can you claim to represent the regency? You are the enemies of Lornth.”

“We have a treaty,” Saryn pointed out. “We are here at the request of the regency.”

“The regency no longer represents the lord-holders of Lornth. Women are not fit to rule the land, and such a rule is against the natural order of life. Still…the lord-holders have no quarrel with Westwind, and if you choose to return to the Westhorns, none will hinder you.”

“Oh?” asked Saryn mildly. “That is a most suspect assurance, given that various lord-holders have already attacked us.”

“Lord Orsynn has given his assurance, and he is a most honorable lord,” said the young officer.

“Honorable so long as women remain in what he regards as their rightful place,” suggested Saryn, keeping her voice even. For some reason, the image of the shimmering metal link-ring in the old Cyadoran dwelling flashed into her mind.

“What other place…”

“Oh…” replied Saryn, “they might rule, or command, or otherwise infringe on the traditional prerogatives of men. And, in response to the most generous gesture of your lord, I will offer my terms in return. If he returns to his lands and swears allegiance to the regency, the regency will accept his allegiance without prejudice.”

“You are outnumbered,” pointed out the officer.

“We are indeed, but you may convey my terms to your lord. If he turns his forces and returns to his holding, I will know he has accepted the regency's terms.”

“And if not?” The undercaptain's smile was more like a smirk.

“Then what will be will be,” replied Saryn.

“He cannot accept those terms. He has pledged—”

“He broke his pledge to the regency. He can certainly break his pledge to a group of rebel lords.”

“They are upholding the true traditions of Lornth.”

Inherited from Cyador, no doubt.
“Undercaptain…convey my terms. Lord Orsynn can accept or receive the consequences.”

The undercaptain flushed, and Saryn could sense his anger.

“I will tell him you have refused his terms.”

“Tell him my terms as well.” Saryn's voice was even, but the undercaptain flinched at her eyes.

Without another word, the young officer turned his horse and rode down the slope.

“He did not even ask who you were,” observed Shalya.

“We're women. In his eyes, and those of Lord Orsynn, we don't count, unless consorted to a powerful man.” Saryn looked out at the more than three companies.
Can you do it again?
she asked herself.
Do you have any choice?

For several moments, she watched the undercaptain ride down the road. Then she turned. “Squads! Reform to five abreast, four deep.”

Shalya and Yulia repeated the orders but both looked to Saryn.

“With us only two deep, they could sweep through us. Besides, I want the Lornians in a more compact formation.”

For a time, the Jeranyi and Cardaran forces remained as they had halted. Then, both began to re-dress their lines, until they had three companies abreast, each with a ten-man front. After a short wait, they began to ride forward, if only at a quick walk.

“Make sure everyone holds fast,” Saryn said firmly. “I can't take them on until they're close, and it's going to look like they'll run over us. We'll charge at the last moment and go through them.”
Don't ask how.
“Keep the formation tight.” She turned to Shalya. “Once we're through them, don't waste guards trying to capture or chase down stragglers.”

“Yes, ser.”

Saryn made a conscious effort to relax her grip on the short sword, her eyes and senses on the approaching Cardarans and their Jeranyi allies. With the hazy clouds, and the white sun higher in the sky, she didn't have to worry about her forces facing into a low, bright light.

As she waited, she extended her senses, beginning to link the junctures and nodes in the air into a chevron-shaped pattern, with her at the apex, and with the same knife-edge of chaos she had created before, cradled in unyielding order. She worked to extend that unseen blade far enough to both sides so that it would cover the flanks of the Cardarans.

At a hundred yards from Saryn, the attackers began a full gallop toward the regency force. Saryn waited until they were close to eighty yards away. Then she finally ordered, “Charge! Forward! On me!”

She urged the gelding into a full canter, linking the chaos-knife to her short sword and knowing that she needed as much momentum as possible to increase the force of her blade. She searched for the leading rider in the center company, her eyes sweeping the attacking force, nodding as she sensed that the attackers had fallen into a rough, if barely perceptible, wedge, with the middle of the center company at the point.

Less than twenty yards from the leading rider, Saryn finally released her blade, strengthening the links and flattening herself against the neck and mane of the gelding as the unseen black-framed whitish knife blade slashed through men and mounts, cutting them down and scattering them away from the Westwind squads.

Even before Saryn reached the shattered rear of the Cardaran force, black voids filled with cold whiteness arrowed into her, pulling and hammering at her, so much that her entire body felt as though it had been penetrated by hundreds, if not thousands, of unseen needles.

Her fingers clutched at the gelding's mane.

She started to lift her head, but she could not see through the assault of shimmering lightknives that stabbed through her eyes. She reined in the gelding, conscious of riders around her, hoping they were Westwind guards, before the needles, the lightknives, and another black void all slammed into her.

Hot darkness and chill icy white engulfed her…then she felt nothing.

*   *   *

As if emerging from an unseen drizzle, Saryn felt the dampness running down her forehead, water that was neither hot nor cold, and she shook her head, trying to speak, to get out of the rain.

“Commander?”

She tried to speak again, but her throat was so dry that her “yes” was more like a croak. “Water…please.”

Someone placed a water bottle at her lips. She lifted her head, ignoring the pounding inside her skull, and drank.

Hate being weak…passing out in the saddle isn't a good example.
She struggled into a sitting position on the shoulder of the road.

Although she could barely see between the lightknives and the pain they created, she could make out that the high, hazy clouds had been replaced by lower and darker ones. A flash of lightning flickered brightly just to the east, followed immediately by a loud crash of thunder.

Her body didn't feel bruised. Finally, she looked at Shalya. “I didn't fall…?”

“We had to pry your fingers out of the horse's mane.”

“What happened?”

“Your black blades scythed through the main body of both the Jeranyi and the Lornians. It looked like some thirty armsmen on the fringes escaped. We captured ten or so.”

Even with her vision almost nonexistent because of the flashing lightknives, Saryn could see the gravity on Shalya's face and in her words. “How long was I out? What's the problem? What were our losses?”

“You've been out a half glass or so. We had three wounded. I don't think one will make it.”

Saryn didn't see that as insurmountable, given what they'd faced.

“We found several bodies attired…like lords. The captives identified them as Lord Orsynn and two of his sons.”

“I don't see a problem there. He, or his envoy, admitted rebelling against the regency. They attacked a force bearing the regency banner without any hesitation. They paid the price.”

“Some of the captives complained that you used sorcery.”

Saryn wanted to snort. “None of them thought it was unfair to attack us with six times our numbers. There is no fairness in battle. You win or lose. Did we capture many mounts?”

“A score and a half. The others…”

Saryn understood. Her dark scythe didn't distinguish between men and mounts. “Blades? Weapons?”

“We recovered hundreds of blades, enough that most of the captured mounts are heavily laden. More than a bit of coins as well. I haven't counted it, but I'd guess close to sixty golds. More than half came from Lord Orsynn.” Shalya's face bore an expression Saryn couldn't decipher, and her light-blurred vision and pounding head kept her from sensing anything.

“What else?” asked Saryn.

“Your blade…it was molten when it hit, and there was a dark fire.”

Saryn was vaguely amused that she wasn't surprised. “It mixes order and chaos flows.” After a moment, she asked, “Did the fire upset the guards?”