Sasha (65 page)

The column burst onto open fields, green grass wet upon steep, folded hillsides. Fences crossed the grass and small farmhouses perched beside water catchments. Sasha couldn't see any livestock as they thundered along the ridgeline road. That was a bad sign. Ahead, the Yumynis River glinted dully as it swept about in a giant bend. A glance over her shoulder showed an endless stream of mounted soldiers pouring from the treeline. She held the column to a comfortable canter with little fear of tiring the horses on such an easy downward slope.

The treeline continued downhill on the right, where dark shelves of rock thrust through the green grass. Beyond, the Shudyn Ridge towered like an almighty black wall supporting the grey ceiling of sky. A galloping horseman caught her eye, racing parallel to the treeline. A scout—they often flanked forward from a cavalry thrust, searching the hidden folds of land for ambush. And yet, the horseman swung across and headed for them at speed. Several of the vanguard fell back, riding on Sasha's right as a shield, but the approaching rider bore no visible weapons and held a hand aloft in a sign of recognition.

“M'Lady, I don't recognise him,” said one of the vanguard, squinting as they rode. “He's not one of our scouts.” The man's dussieh came racing up the slope at an angle toward them…and Sasha could see the man's face.

“That's all right!” she replied, with a leap of high spirits. “I do!” She stood in her stirrups and waved him in. “Greetings, Jurellyn! Funny seeing you here!”

“Funny?” yelled the scout as he closed the gap. “It's hysterical! Where the hells've you been, damn fool of a girl?”

Sasha threw back her head and laughed. Jurellyn leaped the stone wall beside the trail and joined her side with a skidding of hooves. The trail was turning northward, dropping into a shallow fold that blocked all view of the river. Upon the opposing slope, Sasha saw a farmhouse in charcoal ruins, the damage far too old to raise smoke.

She extended a hand and Jurellyn grasped it hard. He looked much the same as she'd last seen him upon the road to Halleryn—ragged and weather-beaten, a shaven jaw his only visible concession to civilisation. His rumpled clothes bore perhaps several more stains than she recalled, but it appeared as if the intervening weeks since Damon had sent him from the Falcon Guard to spy on Lord Usyn's army had caused him little concern. Certainly his horse seemed none the worse for wear, running gamely at Peg's side with barely a sweat to show.

“I've got good news and bad news!” he said to her above the thunder of hooves.

“Bad news first!”

“The Banneryd Holy Swords hold Ymoth, you're looking at nine hundred horse minimum, maybe two thousand infantry!”

“I already guessed that!” Sasha retorted. “What's the good news?”

“Usyn ain't here!” With a gleam in his eyes. “I know the Banneryd got wind of you coming, they've been scrambling about the place all morning setting up defences…but Usyn's still in the valley!”

“I could kiss you!” Sasha yelled back.

“Promises, promises! This road's fine—they'll see you maybe three folds from Ymoth so they won't have much time to prepare! There's open ground from there, you can form up okay—make it fast past the town, there's archers on the walls! And watch the damn bridge! I haven't been able to get across for two days, but there's Hadryn towns not too far east and my men saw riders heading across the bridge at speed this morning!”

Sasha nodded…from those villages would come the same men who ravaged Perys.

“Do the Udalyn still stand?” she asked Jurellyn, as they rose over the depression.

“No way to tell! Usyn's still in there…” Jurellyn shrugged. “I see you brought the kids with you!”

Sasha blinked at him. He'd sent them, she recalled. “If you thought perhaps the king still had a heart, it didn't work!”

Jurellyn shook his head. “Brother Damon's idea! I never had much faith in it!” They cleared the rise and could see the river once more. The lower fields were close, but Ymoth remained hidden behind a ridge. “I'll scout forward, maybe try and cross the bridge when you go! Luck!”

He waved and spurred his wiry horse to a gallop, raising clods of earth in his wake as he raced down the trail, then leaped a wall to ride toward the further treeline.

The formation seemed to take forever to arrive. Men poured down from the last rise of the foothills, officers on horseback yelling and pointing grandly with their swords, directing each group to their position. Sasha simply held Peg to his place behind the vanguard before the bank of a stream that cut through the paddocks into the Yumynis. The ruins of a farmhouse lay nearby, its charred timbers wet with recent rain. The senseless destruction sickened her and awoke her fury. It must have been such a beautiful residence, by a stream near a wide river, nestled amid green pastures and flanked by mountains.

Across the pastures behind, a great mass of men on horse now gathered. Sasha stared across their ranks in utter disbelief. Thousands of horses. They snorted, stamped, tossed heads and whinnied. Their lines were ragged, their size, colour and breeding uneven, and the men on their backs ranged from armoured cavalrymen to wild-haired, tattooed villagers to a smattering of clean-cut and shaven Verenthane townsmen. A rabble, Tyrun had rightly said. But a very angry, very determined rabble. A very
large
rabble. Sasha had never seen such mustered soldiery before in her life. The very ground seemed to sag beneath their accumulated weight.

Tyrun came galloping along the front line, raising a cheer as he went. He peeled off and stopped at Sasha's side. “They know what they're doing,” he said, eyes squinted within his silver helm. “We've got them in teams of roughly ten, we try to keep the villages together where possible. This lot's yours…” pointing across the vast swathe of men directly before her, “the bunch behind them will be mine…” pointing over their heads to an even larger mass gathered there, “and Captain Akryd has that lot over there…” pointing furthest from the river, where at least two thousand horse were gathered in rough, shifting ranks.

“Your Baerlyners are with Captain Akryd,” Tyrun continued, answering her unasked question. “I'm sorry they can't ride with you, but our organisation isn't quite that good, and contingents end up wherever they end up.”

Sasha waved a hand. “That's okay. No favouritism.” And it was better, perhaps, that their fates were entirely out of her hands. It would stop her from being distracted. Teriyan. Jaegar. Andreyis. Fear clutched her heart at the thought of her young friend. “Dear spirits look after him,” she thought. “Help him remember what he was taught.”

Some horses were grazing and some men had briefly dismounted to relieve themselves on the grass before the charge. Sasha herself had already done so, within the ruined farmhouse for privacy. The whole thing was surreal. Behind the great mass, Sasha could see some smaller ranks holding reluctantly back. Sofy would be there, with Jaryd at her side. Pray that they were not needed.

“What's the count now?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level. Her heart was starting to race, like a startled horse that wished to rip clear of her chest and go galloping off across the fields.

“Five thousand two hundred and change,” Tyrun replied. “There's more behind, scattered in groups all across the Shudyn Divide.” Even as he spoke, Sasha spied some latecomers pelting toward the rear, frantic not to miss the action. She could almost see their disappointment when an officer directed them toward the reserve. “We would be stronger every moment we wait, but the afternoon grows late already and the cloud will make the dark come sooner.”

Sasha shook her head. “No waiting. As soon as you're ready.” Any longer and her own racing heart would kill her.

“A gesture from the commander is customary,” said Tyrun, indicating the waiting ranks behind. Clearly he read the look on her face, for he shrugged, apologetically. “Not to do so could be considered a bad omen.”

Sasha reined Peg about in frustration, dug in her heels and raced uphill to what she considered would be the centre of that vast front line. Then she stopped, pulled the sword from over her shoulder, stood in the stirrups and held it aloft.

“LENAYIN!” she yelled. The answering roar gave her the worst goosebumps of her life, so loud it seemed it might blow her from the saddle. Thousands of blades speared the air and thousands of voices yelled, again and again. She turned and galloped back to her vanguard, still waving the blade. As she approached, Tyrun gave the signal and the whole front line began to move. The Battle of Ymoth was underway. Exactly
which
battle of Ymoth, whether the fifth, or the fifteenth, or the fiftieth, Sasha was far from certain.

Peg splashed through the stream, Sasha holding him to a canter up the far bank as the front line reached the stream unevenly. The water dissolved in a frothing mass of hooves and Sasha spared a long look behind, seeing that Tyrun had pulled aside for her own formation to pass and headed now for the greater mass of horse still waiting behind. The last of her riders cleared the stream and she lifted Peg's speed to a gentle run. The way ahead lay relatively flat along the riverbank. Tall poplars lined the river and upon the river's far side were fields and fields of wheat and oats.

The first fence was wooden and high, but Peg cleared it with ease. Sasha swung in her saddle to see the front line do the same, even the smallest dussieh having little difficulty. Her spirits lifted a little more—one more concern out of the way. Her vanguard spread out, still in front, clearing her view. Ymoth itself remained largely out of sight behind the one remaining ridge, blocking a view of those lower foothills where it cut across the riverside fields. She cleared another fence and saw the bridge emerging ahead, past intervening poplars. The ridge approached, and then Captain Akryd's left flank seemed to lift, accelerating to clear the rise and the fence that ran along it.

The river curled gently to the right, and suddenly, there was Ymoth. There was indeed a wall—perhaps only half the height of the walls of Halleryn, but a stone wall all the same. Within, and rising as the foothills rose, she could see the town itself—a mass of thatched roofs clustered for protection behind that stone. Surprisingly, there seemed to be little damage. Ymoth had not been razed to the ground. Perhaps the Hadryn had proved less barbaric than she'd feared.

The rear of the town rose considerably higher than its river-facing wall and dwellings seemed to blend into the tree-covered folds. Still Sasha could see no opposition. But the assault could be seen now and defenders would be preparing. Make them rush.

She gave a yell, and a wave of her sword, and Peg accelerated to a full gallop. An answering yell came from a thousand throats behind and the thunder of hooves became an earth-shaking roar. Sasha cleared the next fence, a ruined farmhouse flashed by, and she purposely slowed Peg with several gentle tugs lest he outdistance the vanguard.

She could see archers on the walls now, as Captain Akryd's flank began to divide from her own, headed for those nearside slopes and trees. Then she saw movement within the trees, an emerging line of archers, bows at the ready. Behind them, holding the flattest uphill ridges, were lines of infantry, the front ranks bristling with spears.

She tore her vision away from that impending collision, for the bridge was approaching and the Ymoth wall opposite on the left. The left flank would be engaging now, but she could not hear a thing above the pounding roar. Archers upon the Ymoth wall stood, drew and fired…Sasha could not help but spare the flying shafts a sideways eye as they fell behind. If they hit anyone, she did not turn to see.

She focused all her attention instead upon the left turn she had to make ahead, away from the river and up to Ymoth's far flank…not too tight, she urged herself, crouched low on Peg's heaving back. The entire formation would follow the line she set. Too tight, and they would stretch and scatter. Not tight enough, and they would still be turning when the reverse came, followed by confusion and collisions. The wall flew past on the left, the river poplars on the right, archers loosing soundless arrows from the parapets—everything was soundless but the charge…

She switched the sword to her left hand and held it out, beginning the left sweep as the wall ended. About they curled, racing hard as the ground began to rise, thundering toward the ragged treeline where the horses would surely begin to slow against the steepening incline…And there they were, suddenly a cascade of cavalry bursting from the trees ahead, plunging down the slope toward them. Banneryd cavalry, she could see the red and black banners, and the gleam of heavy mail, their yells now audible from the fore, testament alone to their number.

Sasha waved her sword in a wide circle, swinging Peg wide to the right as the right flank swung and the rear also turned. She could feel Peg's surprise, fighting the rein, thinking the direction lay ahead…Sasha pulled tighter as the main body began to swing, the huge mass of mounted soldiers somehow managing to avoid collision as they circled and doubled back on themselves. There was some jostling, some bunching up, some riders spurring wider circles to clear the congestion…Sasha threw a glance back over her shoulder and saw the Banneryd cavalry descending upon them in a huge, triple-ranked line, bristling with swords as they hurtled downhill. This was going to be close.