Secrets of the Night Special Edition (84 page)

The colonel spoke, his voice loud and clear. "I've met her. I assure you, she is Princess Keriam. Let us have no more of this talk."

"Princess Keriam!" The warriors bent to one knee, their heads bowed in respect.

"Major." Keriam nudged Roric's arm. "Help me stand up on this table so that I may address the men."

He did as requested, touching her with a reverence that befitted her station, so proud of this woman he loved more than life.

After Keriam stood atop the table, Fintan Davies spoke in an undertone to Roric. "We've had twenty desertions, including Colonel Riagin's aide, since you were last here."

Alarm slammed through Roric's gut. "Desertions or defections to Balor?"

Davies sighed. "Who knows?"

From her position on the table, Keriam motioned for the men to rise. Hundreds of soldiers stood, a look of admiration on their faces. None speaking, they gazed at the princess, middle-aged men and young, tall and short, men from all walks of life. All wore simple black tunics and trousers, with no insignia, every one of them a steadfast Avadoran soldier ... she hoped.

Keriam's heart pounded until her head throbbed, but she spoke in clear tones. "Soldiers of Avador," she began, "at long last, I can address you, a privilege denied me for too long. For many moonphases, I have remained a fugitive, hiding from the tyrant, Balor. The time has come to overthrow this tyrant. With your help, we can do it, but I won’t lie to you. It won't be easy." The sun emerged from the clouds, a sudden clearing of the sky. Keriam raised her face upward. "See? A sure sign the Goddess is on our side. If you are all with me--and I pray to Talmora that you are--remember that Balor's army in Moytura outnumbers us four-to-one."

The men frowned and murmured among themselves, all aware of the odds against them. As Keriam paused, they gazed up at her, approval written on all their faces. Fierce exultation burst inside her. They were with her! She could count on every one of them.

"We know we can't defeat the usurper in a pitched battle," Keriam continued, turning now and then so that she faced every one of them. "We must use devious methods. Destroy his supplies, deprive his army of food. We must strike him from different quarters so that he never knows where the next setback will come from. We won’t defeat him overnight, but with the Goddess's help, we will succeed." Her voice rose. "Men of Avador, are you with me?"

A soldier raised his fist in the air. "We are with you, princess!" The others joined in, raising their swords and javelins high, all of them shouting, "Queen Keriam!"

* * *

During their journey southward, hundreds of men slept on the open ground, spread out among the forest trees or slumbering in the meadows along their route. They had left their tents and much of their supplies behind, their aim to make haste in their trek southward. The officers had decided before leaving Uisnech that the soldiers would depart the encampment one-thousand men at a time, one day separating each group. Thus at present they had almost a thousand men with them. The other thousand, along with Colonel Riagin and the cavalry, followed close behind. Sharing the odyssey's discomforts, Keriam slept apart from the others, while sentries took turns keeping watch every night. Several miles from Moytura, she lay sleepless on the cold, hard ground, staring up through the trees. A multitude of stars mantled the sky, and the constellation of Moccus the Horse glittered overhead like a diamond bracelet.

She drew her bear robe up to her chin, wondering if Roric slept, or if fears kept him awake, too. She smiled to herself, recalling their last night together. Her body heated, his kisses, his lovemaking still fresh in her mind. Running her hand from her breast to her thighs, she relived Roric’s every touch, remembering the feel of his body on hers. Ah, to have him again this night and for every night to come. But not once had he spoken of love, and she wondered, as she had so many times, if he wanted her only as a man wants a pleasure woman. But no, she knew it was more than that, knew that his love matched hers.

Around her, snoring, sneezing, and coughing sounded from the trees, further distractions that prevented slumber. Unable to get comfortable, she continually changed position. Insects buzzed around her and nocturnal animals stirred with screeches, clucks, and howls.

After a consultation among them and after seeing the lay of the land at this point between Uisnech and Moytura, Roric, Captain Davies, and the other officers had decided they would proceed no farther, but would make this part of the forest their base of operations.

"And don't worry about the torathors," Roric had emphasized. "They are not monsters, and they are our friends. On our side!"

Separate companies were grouped according to battle plan and would spread throughout this area of the forest, each company with its own mission. Roric had informed her of their intention, and she realized it made sense. The scheme sounded plausible and workable. Why, then, did doubts assail her? Why did a sense of doom hang over her, erasing her earlier optimism?

"I'll escort you back to the outlanders, then return here to take part in the operations," Roric had told her earlier this evening, after their meal. They'd spoken among themselves, far from the others.

"You'll do no such thing--I mean about escorting me back," she'd retorted. "I want to know what's going on with our army, and I can't do that from my cave home. No, I'll stay here with you and the men."

He folded his arms in front of him. "This is no life for a princess. You can't stay here in the woods among these rough soldiers, sharing in their hardships."

"Who says I can't? Major Gamal, please don't tell me what I can and can't do." Irritation warmed her face, but depression, too. Had he so quickly forgotten their last night together?

He threw up his hands. "Very well,
princess
, have it your way."

And that's how the matter had rested, with no questions or arguments from any other officer. Apparently, Roric had convinced them of her determination. Now, in the deepest part of night, she closed her eyes, aware that only a few hours remained before dawn. After a while--minutes or hours, she knew not which--she surrendered to sleep, her body rigid. A sense of helplessness overtook her, as if she couldn't move a limb. Tingling spread from her head to her feet, and she floated upwards, then flew south in this heavenly journey that always filled her with ecstasy.

Raw power surged inside her. Nothing was impossible. She could conquer the world! For once, it didn’t matter that the tyrant occupied her home and ruled in her stead. She would soon rid the country of the fiend. Skimming the trees, she looked below her, absorbing every detail of her domain: the vast forest, every hill and valley, the streams and rivers that wound like blue silk ribbons through Avador.

Movement and talk jerked her attention below, and she gravitated toward the
Royal North Road
, then drifted downward to hide behind an oak tree. Preceded by the cavalry, hundreds of soldiers, thousands! marched four abreast in one long, winding column, quivers or javelins slung over their shoulders. Meadow and gently-rolling farmland flanked them on both sides, sheep and cattle sleeping in the distance.

What was happening here? Mounted officers rode alongside the warriors, urging them on. Keriam pressed her hand to her heart, eternally surprised when her hand passed through her spirit. The tramp of feet sounded like thunder in her ears, boots scuffling on the hard soil. As in Moytura many moonphases ago, she heard the their talk, as if she stood next to them.

"We'll get those traitors."

"Bound to be hiding in the forest somewhere."

An officer took four mounted soldiers aside and spoke to them. "As scouts, I want you to ride ahead but leave your horses tethered before entering the forest. Probe for the traitors' army, then come back to me when you have found their position."

The men exchanged worried glances, prompting a string of curses from the officer. "There are no monsters in the forest! Only a tale to frighten children!" He gave further instructions about the direction each was to take, then joined the other officers.

In her concealment behind the tree, Keriam heard every word.

Who had betrayed them? How in the Goddess's name had they learned of Roric's plan? Never mind! No time to lose!

Keriam willed her spirit back to her body, where she slumbered on the cold ground, arms flat across her chest, her long hair unbraided, the locks spread out on the grass. Her soul restored to her body, she tossed and turned, a vague worry disturbing her repose. She awoke with a jolt, painfully reminded of the danger that threatened. Throwing her bear robe aside, she rose and walked a few yards, stepping over sleeping men, heading for the spot where Roric slept.

She knelt, shaking his shoulder. "Roric!" she whispered.

He jerked awake, then raised himself on his elbows, staring at her, wide-eyed. "Kerry, are you all right?"

"Balor!" She clenched her hands. "Balor's army is headed this way! His entire army! I just spirit-traveled to Moytura, heard the soldiers' talk. Roric, they know about us!" She shook his arm. "They've sent scouts ahead to find our position. We can't disperse as we'd planned!"

"Sacred shrine, no! Obviously someone betrayed us. We must act!" He shoved his robe to the side and jumped up to search for Fintan Davies, finding him a few minutes later with his company.

Roric shook him awake. "Davies! Balor's army is headed this way. Scouts are already searching for us."

Davies blinked the sleep from his eyes. "How do you know this?"

"Never mind! It's enough that we do!" He'd worry about explanations later.

Fintan sprang to his feet. "What are we going to do?" he asked with a helpless look at all the sleeping men.

"Head south and fight. What else?" Roric clapped Davies on the shoulder. "Never let it be said that we are cowards. But if we are going to die, at least we will die with honor."

Chapter Thirty-three

On a sparsely-wooded hill that overlooked Moytura, Roric viewed Balor's army massing on the Plain of Sorrows below. The hill extended for about a mile, gradually sloping down to a valley on either side: an ideal place for defense. All around him, men talked and joked nervously, fingering swords, scuffing booted feet on the hard ground.

Loud chanting and banging of swords on shields echoed from the battlefield. In front gathered Balor's archers, armed with short bows. Behind them came the foot soldiers, equipped with short swords and protected by shields. Last grouped the cavalry at the far end of the field, the horse soldiers wielding swords and javelins, the horses unarmored.

Dawn was breaking, and a grayish blue glow tinted the western horizon. A chill hung in the air, a cool breeze from the north, flapping banners and pennants. His spyglass raised, Roric recognized a few officers from years ago. He gripped a branch so hard it snapped in his hands. To think he must fight--and kill--many of his former comrades . . . or be killed by one of them! Glad he held the high ground, he snapped the metal tube shut and set it in the crook of a tree limb.

Upon learning of Balor's approach during the night, he'd sent a courier to the one-thousand men who followed behind with Colonel Riagan, advising them of Balor's advance. But even if the men moved at breakneck speed--and he knew they would--they'd never reach Moytura in time. Keriam had ridden to enlist the aid of the outlanders, whose home claimed a small portion of the southeast corner of the forest. Roric sighed, knowing that if the outlanders joined the princess's army, it would forever end their isolation, their way of life.

At a hastily-summoned war council only a few hours ago, Roric, as senior officer, had devised a battle plan in conjunction with the other officers. Everyone was painfully aware of the slim chance of defeating Balor, but they must try. To ignore the challenge didn’t bear consideration. In order to distinguish his men from Balor's, Roric's soldiers had tied a strip from their black undertunics around their forehead. Roric and the other officers wore helmets, and so tied the strips around that head protection.

Discouragement clutched him like a band around his chest, tightening, tightening, until he feared he couldn't breathe. Despite the chill, perspiration trickled down his face and dampened his tunic. He clenched his fists until the muscles ached. Relaxing his hands, he tried to convince himself the princess's army would win this day. But sacred shrine! How could they?

On each side of him, behind every tree, faces tightened with tension. Row upon row of archers stood at the ready, their gaze focused on the enemy below, each man prepared to loose his arrow in unison. In dense formation, they spread out for over eight-hundred yards, with others behind them, every man anxious to defeat Balor. Roric had been forced to weigh the possibility of congestion--so many men within such a small space--against the real fear of lack of coordination.

His foot soldiers had already loosened boulders, their aim to stop as many men as possible.

A bugle blared below. Roric stiffened, his arm raised to give the signal to his men.

Grim faces set in single-minded purpose, Balor's warriors advanced up the hill.

"Release boulders!" Roric shouted. His men sent the rocks rolling down, the onslaught crushing many in the first wave. Screams tore through the air. The enemy continued to climb, stepping over bodies of their fallen comrades.