Fire and Sword (32 page)

“What issue?” Korigan asked.

Lynan’s breath caught in his throat. He had not said it before, but knew in his heart there was only
one
issue that would guarantee he and his friends could return safely to Kendra. “The issue of who will rule the kingdom,” he said slowly, and with the saying of it was surprised to feel a great weight lift from his shoulders.

“Have you told Kumul of this decision?” she asked.

“No.”

“You will have to, sooner or later.”

“Sooner, I know. Before the battle. He has a right to know what he is fighting for.”

“If it helps, I think he knows already. He just can’t admit it to himself.”

“He has always served the throne of Grenda Lear.”

“By serving you, he still does,” Korigan said.

Lynan looked up, met Korigan’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said.

They both stood, still looking at each other.

“I had better go,” Korigan said.

“Yes.”

They both reached for the flap at the same time and their hands touched. For a moment neither moved, but then Lynan opened the flap and the contact was broken. Korigan left without saying another word.

Kayakun picked up the wine jar and refilled the two goblets, took his own, and drank deeply. “I cannot believe it is the same boy.”

Gudon belched, pounded his stomach with a fist and belched again. “Where did you say this piss came from?”

“I didn’t. It’s from some new vineyards in eastern Hume.”

“It is too warm there for good wine to grow,” Gudon declared.

“That hasn’t stopped you from helping me drink two flagons of the stuff.”

“Two?” Gudon asked, surprised. “Already?”

“We’re ready for our third.”

As if Kayakun’s words were a signal, one of his servants reappeared with a full jug and took away the empty.

“As I was saying, I can’t believe it is the same boy.”

“We’re talking of Lynan now?”

“Of course.”

“I only ask because in the last few hours we’ve discussed the defeat of the mercenaries, the weather, politics in Grenda Lear, the lineage of some merchant who offended you ten years ago, the weather, a new brood mare you purchased in the winter, and the bloody weather. I’ve lost track of where we’re up to.”

“We’re up to Lynan. The boy. The man. Whatever he is.” Kayakun glared at Gudon through half-closed eyes. “Come to that,
what
is he?”

“The gods only know.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“He is the White Wolf returned—” Kayakun waved dismissively at that, “—he is heir to the throne of Grenda Lear, he is a warrior and a general, he is a leader, he is a prophecy in the making.” Gudon put his goblet down and said heavily, “And he is a boy. Nothing more than a boy.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“I love him. Truth, he is a son and a brother all at once to me. I saved his life. He has saved mine. He makes me proud. He terrifies me.”

“Have you told anyone else this?” Kayakun asked.

“Oh, that’s clever,” Gudon said, wagging his finger. “Ply me with bad wine and then interrogate me. What do you want?”

“I want to know whether or not this Lynan is leading our people to disaster.”

“I think he will save us from disaster.”

“What do you mean?”

“He saved Korigan’s crown at the High Sooq. Maybe even her head. He has united most of the clans under his pennant, and may yet unite all of them. If he wins the throne, our independence will be guaranteed and our isolation ended.”

“He can’t do both. Our isolation is our independence.”

“That’s glib, Kayakun, but not true. Independence comes not from being left alone, but from being equal with all the other peoples that make up the kingdom of Grenda Lear.”

“And if he loses? What attitude will Areava take toward us then, sitting on her throne in far-away Kendra?”

“I’m too drunk to answer that.”

“And tomorrow you’ll be too sober to answer it.”

Gudon giggled. “Oh, now that
is
clever.”

Kayakun leaned forward until his face was less than a hand’s span from Gudon’s. “I’m serious.”

“Then you haven’t drunk enough of this wine.”

“I’m
serious
,” Kayakun repeated.

Gudon sighed deeply. “All right, I’ll answer your question. If Lynan loses, Areava will not attack us. But she will make sure that our isolation becomes permanent. We will be imprisoned within the Oceans of Grass.”

“That sounds like a reward, not a punishment.”

Gudon scowled at him. “Kayakun, that is the most stupid thing you have ever said.”

The Chett army stayed at the Strangers’ Sooq for over a week. In that time, most of the grass around the sooq was eaten by all the horses, but since no caravan would be coming this spring, it was no great loss.

Lynan, Korigan, and Gudon spent the days gathering supplies and the wagons necessary to carry them across the Algonka Pass and into the eastern provinces; Lynan wanted to avoid his army living off the land and alienating the very people he wanted as his subjects. Kumul and Ager resumed their training of the army and invented pennants for each banner, pennants that had nothing to do with any existing clan. Jenrosa spent all her time with Lasthear, trying to master her skills, hoping there was a limit to them and that in the end she was nothing more than another magicker; she had no more dreams about Silona, but could not forget the one dream she had had.

At the end of that week the warm winds of the coming summer were already blowing across the Oceans of Grass. For Lynan it was a sign, and he ordered the army to move out.

The banners, proudly carrying above them their new pennants, left the Strangers’ Sooq as quietly as they had come.

Galen did not enjoy being in the middle of the argument, but he knew whose side he was on, and that surprised him. “It may be your province, your Highness, but our queen gave command to Prince Sendarus; indeed, not only did she give him command of her army, she also gave him the Key of the Sword, and whoever wears that has supreme military authority within Grenda Lear.”

Charion’s eyes narrowed and she glared at the nobleman. “I am also a queen,” she hissed. “I want Salokan’s head, and I want it now. I don’t see why this—” she waved deprecatingly at Sendarus, “—gentleman will not lend me his cavalry so I can pursue the bastard!”

Prince Sendarus closed his eyes and wished desperately he was back in Kendra with his wife. This black-haired witch’s bad temper and abuse made him want to drop her from the top of her own city’s walls.

“I’ll explain again,” he started calmly, “and this time I expect you to listen, because it is the last time. I am going to pursue Salokan, but I will wait until all my infantry has caught up with me here at Daavis. In the meantime a portion of my cavalry and light infantry will keep in touch with Salokan’s rearguard, ensuring he does not double back to catch us unaware, and the rest of my force will help repair any damage done to your capital and help bring in fresh supplies.”

“But what if Salokan reaches Haxus before—!”

“Be that as it may,” Sendarus interrupted, his voice rising, “my first priority is to secure
this
city. When I am satisfied that Daavis is safe, we will hunt down Salokan and destroy his army to the last soldier.”

Charion put her hands on her hips and looked ready to spit, but she had run out of arguments and insults. Obviously, this upstart prince was not going to let her pursue Salokan—undoubtedly because he wanted all the glory for finishing off the foreign king for himself—nor was he going to let her assert her right to determine events in her own country.

“Very well,” she said tightly. “I will await your pleasure. When your lost regiments finally discover how to find this city—ten square leagues in size and sitting astride the continent’s widest river—I look forward to once again taking up the war.”

She spun on her heel and stalked off before Sendarus could reply. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I don’t think this would be a good time to ask her about billeting,” he said.

“That’s the truth,” Galen said. “I think that went as well as can be expected.”

“You’ve had dealings with her before?”

“Only once. I attended an embassy to her from Usharna; I escorted Berayma. Berayma was . .. overwhelmed ... by her.”

“She would overwhelm a great bear, I think.”

They started back to their camp north of the city.

“I haven’t had time yet to congratulate you and the knights for your victory over the Haxus regiments south of here. I think it was that which finally convinced Salokan to turn tail. If he had not heard news of your victory, he might well have taken Daavis that morning. Charion will never admit it, of course, but her secretary Farben told me that the city’s defenses were not far from collapsing.”

“I think I am speaking for all the Twenty Houses when I say we are only too glad to contribute to the security of the kingdom.”

“Areava will hear of it, I promise,” Sendarus said.

Salokan knew he was defeated, but he was not panicking. His army was retreating in good order, not in a rout, and he wanted to keep it that way. He selected his best troops for the rearguard, with clear orders to slow down any pursuit. Over the last eight days there had been some skirmishes with Grenda Lear cavalry, and on two occasions with fast-moving and lightly-armored infantry, but nothing that seriously interfered with the retreat. The problem was that the enemy cavalry and light infantry was not trying to slow down the retreat at this point, but simply to stay in touch so that when the main Grenda Lear army came up, it could go straight for the throat of the Haxus army. He knew that if he wanted to survive long enough to reach his own kingdom— where he had reserves and well-established supply lines-he would have to do something unexpected, something that would throw the enemy off his scent or make them think twice about dogging him so closely.

His troops were tired and demoralized, but they would be considerably more tired and demoralized if the enemy caught them on a field not of their choosing. Thus it was that on the eighth night of their retreat, as soon as the evening meal had been finished, he ordered the army to march on instead of settling down. He pushed them on until midnight, and then, instead of letting them rest, he made each regiment build a rampart from packed earth with two ditches in front, one filled with wooden stakes and the other with their last reserve of cooking oil. The ramparts were not continuous, but built checkerboard so that gaps between the first line were covered by those ramparts making up the second line. Finally he had the ditches and ramparts covered with branches and turf. The work was done by dawn; he let them sleep until noon, then stirred them and made them line the ramparts, with strict orders not to make a sound.

The enemy, who had expected to make contact with the Haxus rearguard by mid-morning—based on the expectation that they themselves had not camped too far from Salokan’s forces—found that their quarry was missing. Their commanders panicked and pushed them to catch up. In the early hours of the afternoon they did catch up. Spectacularly.

The Grenda Lear cavalry hit the hidden defenses first; some tripped in the first ditch, but most of the horses jumped it only to land in the second ditch filled with stakes. The screams and cries of impaled horses and men were dreadful, and when brands were thrown from behind the ramparts into the first ditch, setting alight the oil, the terror of the survivors sent them hurtling carelessly into the Haxus troops waiting behind the ramparts. It was a bloody slaughter.

Dazed, unsure what had happened to their mounted comrades, the light infantry hesitated. Salokan ordered his own cavalry to charge. The Grenda Lear infantry, tired and shaken, were virtually wiped out. A few managed to flee, but Salokan knew he had no time to waste in fruitless pursuit and ordered his troops to resume their march north; it had been a long day for them, but invigorated by their victory they complained not at all.

“How many?” Sendarus asked as he strode to his horse, strapping on his sword belt. An early morning mist whirled about his feet, but a bright sun was already burning it away.

“Four companies of our horse, almost all our light infantry,” Galen said. “How far behind are our heavy infantry?”

“At least another day. The remainder of our cavalry, including all your knights, and all our archers are here; that will have to do.”

“Do we march north, then?”

“We have no choice. We don’t know what Salokan is planning. Maybe he received reinforcements and is on his way back. In its present state Daavis could not withstand another siege. We have to stop him before he gets here.” An orderly hurried up with his chain shirt and helmet. “Choose a messenger, Galen, and give him three horses. He has to reach our regiments of spear by midday. Tell them to follow us at double pace.”

“They’ll be exhausted and almost useless if they have to fight straight away.”

“Nonetheless, I want them with us, even if only as a reserve. Salokan will think twice about using his own cavalry if he sees a few thousand spears pointing in his direction.”

Galen nodded and left. Sendarus finished dressing and mounted his horse.

“You wouldn’t be leaving without me, would you?”

It was the last voice he wanted to hear at that moment. “Your Highness, you’re up early. Word travels quickly.”

“Word of disaster always travels quickly,” Charion said levelly. She was dressed in full armor and mounted on a hack, not her usual ceremonial pony. “Are you aware that in the whole campaign so far, the only serious loss we’ve suffered has been the destruction of your cavalry and light infantry?”

“Only four companies of horse, your Highness,” he said between his teeth. He could imagine the message she would already have sent to Areava by carrier bird. He would have to send one of his own to put things in the proper perspective.

Which is?
he asked himself.
Remember, you rescued Daavis. That’s the most important thing.

“I still have four regiments, including three of the knights,” he told her.

“I can give you another regiment, plus two regiments of infantry.”

“What does that leave you to protect the city?”

“Most of my archers, and a goodly number of swordsmen.”

Sendarus wanted to tell her what she could do with her offer, but bit his tongue. Any extra troops at this point would be welcome, and another regiment of horse would bring his cavalry back up to full strength.

“Thank you. I accept.”

“And I will lead them myself,” she added.

Sendarus glared at her, but she did not look away.

“That’s the price,” she said.

“You will be under my command,” he said.

“Of course. You wear the Key of the Sword. Galen Amptra explained the situation to me very clearly yesterday. Do you agree?”

Sendarus could not say the word, but nodded.

“Good. My troops will be ready in an hour.”

“We leave in half an hour,” he said and wheeled his horse away from her.

Salokan’s generals, their confidence boosted by their recent victory, urged him to turn back.

“We’ve proven we can take on and defeat Areava’s army. Let’s finish the job and take Daavis.”

But Salokan did not listen to them. He understood the difference between winning a skirmish and winning a battle. He also understood that even if he met Areava’s main force and defeated it, his own army would probably be so damaged it would not be fit to start another siege or execute a successful city assault. He had already swallowed his pride.

Besides, if Grenda Lear tried to invade Haxus in retaliation for his invasion, he thought he had a better than even chance of beating them back, and then the option of returning to Hume with a fresh army would be a real possibility. An autumn campaign held the advantage of leaving a winter between any counter move from Kendra. Maybe he should have thought of that before starting his late winter offensive.

Well, I lose and learn,
he told himself. Unlike his father, who lost and then lost again. Whatever happened, he was not going to do that.