“Two of the horseguards,” I said. “Rasa, and there's a woman from Torrey who's calm and competent. I'll send each out with a patrol tomorrow, and the next day we can start the new schedule. I've told the patrol leaders to carry bows, as well.”
“Good thinking. You're valuable, Lieutenant,” he said. “Having the confidence of the Emperor's new adjutant is likely useful, too.”
I swore to myself. Had it started? “Captain?”
He smiled, slightly. “Don't worry, Lieutenant. The connection is not widely known. But as you are my lieutenant, it was felt I should know. Just remember that anything reported to him should also be reported to me.”
“Sir,” I said. That had been a very mild reprimand, but a reprimand, nonetheless. “We did discuss possible danger to the patrols if the Marai scouts were after horses. That was why I ordered the leaders to carry bows, sir.”
“If there is any sign of an increased threat, then add another horseguard, with a bow, to each patrol,” he said. “I will tell you if the scouts report anything. Is that all, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. There is a dice game waiting for me.”
Dismissed, I asked for food, and found a spot to sit. Finn wasn't around. I ate quickly. I could join a game, but I wasn't in the mood. I left the commons, walking down towards the harbour. A gate in the fort's wall stood open, a cobbled path leading down to the jetties. I followed it for a bit, and then I sat on the side of the dike, looking out over the marshes. The tide was rising, water flowing into the creeks, changing the mudflats to a network of waterways. A few small boats bobbed at their moorings. Beyond the marsh, the Casilani ships rode at anchor, along with two of our smaller ships.
I sat a long time, watching the land change to sea, and the gulls over the water. No one bothered me. Space and silence and solitude: I knew why I needed them, this evening. Cillian had casually dismissed the killing of the men of Leste who refused to swear fealty. Pieces to be sacrificed to a greater goal. And I did not disagree. What had we become, in the face of war?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Another beer?” Talyn asked, signalling the steward. I still had half a mug. I indicated not. She had ridden the last patrol, and the heat today had been stifling, so I wasn't surprised she was thirsty.
“The dun filly is ready,” she told me. We'd been discussing which of the horses in training could move into regular use.
“She reminds me of my Clio,” I said.
“Full sister. That's why. Do you want her?”
I considered. I liked the chestnut gelding I rode regularly, and we were used to each other. But I should have a second horse. Before I could speak, though, a cadet appeared at my side.
“Lieutenant,” he said, saluting. “A note.”
I took the paper. The wax seal held no imprint. ‘I am free this evening,’ the note read. ‘Would you join me?’
I thanked the cadet, dismissing him. “Sorry, Talyn,” I said. “I've been summoned.”
“Give my cousin my greetings,” she said quietly. “Most of us don't smile at notes from a superior requesting our presence,” she added, at my look of surprise.
“Good night, Talyn,” I said, grinning. I stepped out into the evening. The western sky still held some light, streaks of pink and purple painting the horizon. A light breeze moved the air now, providing some relief from the heat. I took the most direct route to the headquarters, the note in my hand providing a reason.
In our room, Cillian sat studying a map. He put it down when I came in. “Why aren't you with the Emperor?” I asked, crossing the room to kiss him. We had barely seen each other in days.
“I declined wine and conversation, tonight. We move out in the morning.” I had expected this, any day. We were ready, but it did not stop the frisson of fear that ran up my spine. “This will be our last night together until the battle is over, and I am needed very early tomorrow.”
We had not made love since I had gone to Casilla. By the time the images had faded enough for me to be ready, the demands on our time had increased. Brief embraces had been all we had shared.
“Callan sent us wine,” he added.
“Tell him thank you, tomorrow,” I murmured.
“And I begged a second lamp, from Birel.”
He hadn't moved, looking up at me, a hint of smile on his lips. I bent to kiss him again, a long kiss, this time. “It was hot today,” I said. “I need to wash. You could pour us wine, while I do.”
Both lamps still burned. We were wasting oil. I reached over to snuff one, and lower the wick on the other. The room held the heat of the day, although the sky beyond the one small window shone with stars. Cillian lay sprawled over his half of the bed, letting the air dry the sweat on his body. I stretched out, reaching for his hand, to entangle fingers.
I turned my head so I could see him. He was looking at me, his eyes even darker than usual in the low light. All the unspoken knowledge of what war might bring had fuelled an urgency and a passion tonight beyond anything we had shared before, greater even than the sunlit afternoon in Casil. Neither of us were ready for words yet.
A tiny breeze stirred the air. Cillian got up, filled the wine glasses, handed me one. I sat up, my back against the wall. He sat beside me. We still hadn't spoken. He touched his glass to mine. “Drink, and then sleep, käresta,” he said softly. “We have told each other everything we need to, have we not?”
Not everything. I could almost tell him, now. But if I did, it would change tonight, and the memories of it, this last night we might ever have together. Not even our child should intrude, I thought.
“We have, kärestan,” I answered. “Wake me in the morning, before you leave.”
I swung up into the saddle, adjusting the bow on my back after I had settled. My cohorts would ride flank guard during the days of the march. The foot-soldiers, both the archers and men armed with the short sword, a shield, and one light spear, had already set out, followed by more heavily-armed Empire's men. Behind them were the commanders: the Emperor, Casyn and Turlo, their bodyguard and messengers, as well as Gnaius, the physician, and the Emperor's adjutant.
I was to ride guard at the rear, or the front, alternating the cohorts if I chose, but I was not to flank the commanders. I understood the directive. Similar orders would have been given wherever relationships were known.
I had seen Druisius, briefly. He marched in the first line of Casil's troops. His position would allow him to act as a translator, if necessary, although by now the system of horn signals, shouted commands, and drumbeats was understood by the Eastern officers. The men would do as they were told. He had waved, grinning, and then made a face of apology and saluted me. I had returned the salute, hiding a laugh.
We travelled as lightly as possible, with only packhorses in the baggage train, animals that would double as reserve mounts if needed. Each of us carried enough food for two weeks, flour and cured meat, cheese. The pack animals carried medical supplies, extra weapons, the commanders' tents.
The carts began to move. I gave my cohort its last instructions, and moved my gelding to ride beside the rearguard: cadets and older men, mostly, along with the medics and cooks. Ahead of and beyond the army, mounted scouts who had left at earliest light searched out threats: Marai troops, Lestian deserters. I wished, sometimes, I had been chosen for that role. Working alone would have suited me.
Tedium was the best description of much of the march. I alternated where my cohort rode, but after a day or two it didn't seem to matter. Staying alert for many hours at a stretch when nothing threatened was a skill I had, but still I found it wearisome.
We skirted Casilla on the road; beyond it, we turned northward on a track, beaten earth, wide enough for half-a-dozen horses to ride abreast. I thought, from what I could remember of the map I had once had, it went to the Winter Camp, now in the hands of the Marai. If they hadn't deserted it. The Casilani ships had sailed a few days before the army marched, flying their bright banners of the East, arc
hers and swordsmen on board. Their job, to threaten the coastal Marai, driving them north to the Taiva, should have alerted the invaders to the renewed strength of our army, if the Marai scouts hadn't already done that. The hope was the Winter Camp would lie empty.
The rain began on the fourth day, a steady, light rain that seeped into everything. We halted, long enough to check the oiled wrappings on food and weapons and to find cloaks. I took mine off after an hour: I could be wet from rain, or wet from sweat. The track grew muddy from foot passage and hooves, pocked and slick. Cresting a rise, my gelding slipped, flailing for footing, his back quarters not finding purchase. I kicked my feet free of the stirrups and jumped off, leading him to the edge of the track. He found his feet, and followed, favouring one hind leg.
I ran a hand down his legs. Nothing serious, I decided, just a strain. I swore. I was ahead of the packhorses and extra mounts. I waited, and when they reached us, I found the dun filly and swapped over the tack. He would only need to walk, now. The filly sidled and mouthed the bit: she needed a firm hand. I checked her misbehaviour, guiding her onto the track.
She settled down, remembering her training. I relaxed, too much. Trotting to regain my position, the filly shied violently at a stump. I hit the ground, hard.
The filly immediately dropped her head to graze. I lay still, testing limbs. I wasn't hurt. I wasn't. Little one, I thought, panic in my interior voice, are you all right? I sat up, and then stood, gingerly. This was why I had kept quiet.
My back hurt, but it was the pain of impact, not cramping. I walked the filly for some minutes, listening to my body. Nothing happened. I mounted again, walking the horse, praying silently. Huntress, I asked, keep her safe. Let her live.
We made camp, on sodden, muddy ground. I still felt all right, but I tried to move carefully, setting up my tent and helping with camp chores. I put my cloak on again, thinking obscurely that keeping warm might help.
“Are you all right, Lena?” Talyn asked me. The evening's fire hissed in the continuing rain. I had winced, shifting position. One hip hurt.
“The filly threw me,” I admitted. “I'm sore, stiff, but nothing serious. My fault, for forgetting how green she really is.”
“Walk a bit in the morning before you ride,” she said. Good advice. As early as I felt I could, I went to bed. The tent was damp, I was damp. The night passed unpleasantly. As soon as light filtered through the tent, I got up. Other than the hip, and a general stiffness, nothing hurt. I found a private place and explored with my fingers. No trace of blood. Perhaps the prayers had worked, I thought. Or perhaps I was just lucky.
We packed away wet gear and began the day's march. Mid-morning, the sun came out, and along with it, the Marai.
A scout gave us just enough warning. The message passed along the lines: thirty men, or thereabouts. Well-armed. Casyn wheeled his horse away from the Emperor, giving orders, moving men up, dropping the lightly-armed foot-soldiers back. Archers nocked arrows, their bows half-drawn. I took my cohort left; Talyn, right. I had claimed my gelding back this morning, a small mercy: I didn't need to be dealing with a green horse, right now. We halted, flanking the men on foot, staying back, bows ready.
The land rose slightly before us, giving the advantage to the Marai. Except that thirty against hundreds was madness, a wild act of defiance. They charged down the slope, shouting, swords and axes out, shields up. A third fell to the archers before they reached the front line. Metal clashed against metal; men shouted, screamed. Swords stabbed, axes hewed. Our troops pushed forward, shields making a tight wall, advancing relentlessly. One of the Marai broke, running, and another. I snapped a command, and drew my bow. I watched one fall, my arrow between his shoulders.
Then, silence, except for a moan, quickly ended. I looked over. The Marai lay dead, or dying. Three of our men were down, the medics running to them. Casyn rode forward. “No prisoners,” he ordered. “Take their weapons.”
“I'll get the arrows,” I said to Rasa. I rode over to the two we had shot, pulling the arrows free. I had to twist them, tearing flesh, to do so. They came out with a wet, sucking sound. I didn't even try not to vomit.
I rinsed my mouth with water from my flask, spat, and then rinsed the arrowheads. Rasa had ridden up to me; I handed one to her. “Horrible, isn't it,” she said. I nodded.
“I always spew,” I said. “I can't seem to help it. Just a reaction.” Better she heard me acknowledge what happened, than try to hide it, I'd decided.
A shadow made me look up. A raven soared above us. How did they get here so quickly? Could they smell blood? I didn't want to see what they would do to the dead men. I turned my horse, riding back towards the rear. As I passed the command group, I glanced over. Cillian watched me from his black gelding. I saluted, the only acknowledgement I could give him, and kept riding.
As we approached the Winter Camp, I grew increasingly nervous. I tried to analyze why, my gut telling me it was something about the place itself, not the chance the Marai still held it. I let my memories of it float in my mind as my eyes moved constantly on the hillsides. Hillsides: that was it. The Winter Camp occupied a natural bowl among hills, sheltered from wind and some of the worst winter weather, but vulnerable to attack. I had wondered, in the time I had spent there, if it needed to be patrolled constantly when invasion threatened. I would know, later today.
A scout returned, reporting to the Emperor. We continued on, no commands or messages passing up the line. I guessed the scout had found the camp deserted, a guess that proved correct in the late afternoon. We followed the track through a low pass in the hills, to the fields below.
The camp area wasn't flat, but instead sloped upward to the south. The Emperor's tent, and those of his commanders, were pitched on the highest point of the slope, and others, more or less by rank, below. Horse-lines were set up near a stand of trees, exactly where they had been three winters past. The camp came together quickly. Fires were lit and food began to be cooked.
My captain found me. “Horse patrols until dark,” he told me. Unsurprised, I organized the cohort, explaining as best I could remember where the path was, just under the ridgeline. I would ride with them: I was the only one who knew anything of this place. I ate, standing, then went to claim the dun filly. I had ridden the gelding all day; he deserved his rest.
After the first circuit of the hillsides, I split the eight of us into two groups of three, sending them in opposite directions, plus two of us to watch from the highest places. I thought this gave us the best chance of seeing movement. I took the northern side, watching from a pinnacle that gave a good view of the land to the north and west.
Movement caught my eye. I watched, my bow ready. Two men came into view below me, but they were just walking, casually talking. I recognized the clothes of the Empire. What were these two doing away from the camp?
I rode down to them. An older cadet, and a soldier. I didn't know either of them.
“Names?” I asked, confronting them. The older man muttered his name.
“You don't remember me, Lieutenant?” the cadet asked. The question bordered on insolence, but his voice, with its northern intonations, told me who this was.
“Kebhan,” I said. He'd matured. I hadn't recognized Lorcann's son. “You know you can't be out here. Back to the camp,” I told them. “Stay within its bounds. I could have shot you.”
I escorted them back up the hillside. As we reached the perimeter track, one of the patrols met us. Dian reined her horse in. “Why were Kebhan and that soldier out of the camp?” she asked.
“Looking for a private place, perhaps?” I said.
She frowned. “Doesn't fit what I've heard of Kebhan, but, what do I know? Nothing to report, Lieutenant,” she added. She kicked her horse into a trot to catch up with her companions. I sat my filly, watching the hillsides, thinking.
At dusk, we rode down off the hills. Guards would be set, but not on horseback. We'd done our job. I rode to the camp, found the archers' captain. I to
ld her what I'd seen.
She nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll deal with them.”
I took the filly back to the horselines. A cadet offered to take care of her, but I turned him down. I wanted her to get to know me a bit more. After unsaddling, I began to curry her, speaking to her quietly as I did.
“Lieutenant.”
I remembered to straighten, salute. “Adjutant.”
The cadet appeared, saluted. “Sir? Do you want your horse?”
“No,” Cillian said. “Thank you, Cadet.” Dismissed, the boy went back to his work, but I knew he could hear anything we said. “You and your cohort did well against the Marai, Lieutenant.”
“The shot was longer than I had previously attempted,” I said. “So was the other horseguard's, sir. The bows are the key.”
“We learned much in Casil,” he answered.
“And since,” I replied.
“I would like a demonstration, Lieutenant, when we have dealt with the Marai.” His voice gave away nothing.
“Of course, sir,” I replied.
“I will look forward to it. You are—valued, Lieutenant.” The memory hung between us, his words at the lake. Wanted, valued, loved.
“Thank you, sir.” I could think of no way to give him the same message. He stepped a little closer.
“The filly is Han bred?”
“She is.” The horse's body stood between us and the cadet. He put out a hand, stroked the filly's neck. The brush of his fingers against mine could have been accidental. “I prefer,” I added, “not to leave her to others, if time allows. It is a weakness of mine, sir, to want to be with what I care about.”
“A strength, I think, not a weakness, Lieutenant,” he said. “One that is appreciated by your senior officer.” He stepped back. “Good night, Lieutenant. Sleep well.”
“Good night, sir.” I didn't watch him leave. I finished grooming the horse, smiling to myself.
The track that led north from the Winter Camp ran through the grasslands, sere and dry at the end of summer. This land had been held by the Marai, but we saw no sign of them. Between the advance of a large army, and the harrying ships on the coast, we were driving them north.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 104