"Excellent, General, although we should not underestimate our opponent. We can certainly win this battle, but I suspect the fighting will be more difficult than anyone expects." He gave a grim smile and sprang easily onto Fror's back, adding, "How close are Borse and Rugerr's reinforcements?"
“At least five days away.”
The general mounted too, yelling for the men with horses to do the same. He turned to his king for orders.
Taking a deep breath, Delmer began to speak. "I have heard that you have been under siege for five days. I have also heard that you were not attacked yesterday, so today my intention is to draw our opponent into battle. Captain Teton, you will take the archers. Use the tall grass as cover and get within range of their archers, who maintain a perimeter around their camp. You were once a tracker, so use those skills.
"General Portam will remain behind the ranks to supervise the battle and distribute reinforcements appropriately.
"Captain Joanne, take charge of the cavalry. Take them behind the pirates' camp. When Captain Teton gives the signal, attack.
"I will be with the heavy cavalry, and we will lead the charge. The infantry and our dogs will come after the cavalry. Captain Evian and Sergeant Chadran, you are to engage anyone not killed in our initial attack."
"Who will lead us?" a peasant in the back called out.
Glancing around, Delmer found who he was looking for. "Simeon, I name you captain of the Low-Born infantry."
His childhood mentor smiled and nodded. "Yes, Sire.”
"They trust you more than any noble," Delmer added.
Quickly the troops organized into their respective groups and traveled to a knoll, keeping just out of sight. Delmer went around explaining the strategy for each in more detail. Then, with a nod to Teton, he sent off the archers. They crouched and began to move through the grass, without even seeming to part it.
There was tension in the air, and the horses shifted nervously. Delmer, too, was nervous too, but tried not to let his horse feel it.
Heads snapped up as a scream announced the battle had started. All at once every fighter stood to attention. The horses stopped fidgeting and the dogs waited, their muscles taut.
The screams continued, and Delmer wondered how many belonged to his own men. He easily could have led the archers, favoring the bow over a sword, but it was the cavalry that needed him. The infantry would be fine with Simeon.
He had known Simeon since he was a child. Making an escape from the monotonous palace life, he had ducked into the man's open door. Simeon had simply laughed when he first had seen the errant prince, and then invited him back.
The older man showed him tricks with the sword that even the royal tutors did not know. The tutors had mostly taught him how to duel, but Simeon had taught him how to fight. He had also taught the prince fist fighting and wrestling, which Delmer had used once or twice while drunk.
In his early fifties, Simeon might not be a youth, but he would lead the infantry effectively. The peasants trusted him and would follow his orders.
Tully, who had brought his mare to stand next to Delmer, pointed. "Look, Sire, the sign."
Glancing up, Delmer spotted the arrow. "Positions," he called to the horsemen.
Quickly, the cavalry straightened their lines. Delmer and Tully, his standard-bearer, took their places at the front. General Portam led the rearguard.
Delmer addressed his fighters once more. "Seventy-five years ago, our ancestors began the fight to win us our land. Now we battle to protect the country they created. Never forget that we fight for our country, ourselves, our ancestors, and our descendants. If we die, let us die honorably, and let us die well." With a fierce battle cry, which the rest of the company joined, Delmer and his officers spurred their horses into a gallop.
They surged forward, the hooves roaring against the ground, and cascaded down the hillside. Before them lay the camp. The few archers who were left had dropped back, protecting their hastily assembling troops.
As the charge continued, the pirates’ archers released their arrows. Horses and men alike screamed when they were hit. But if someone fell, someone else took his place. The enemy archers managed to bring down a few of Delmer's soldiers, but he knew their efforts would not be enough.
Riders crashed against their opponents like a wave overpowering a ship. Delmer barely flinched when he felt Fror trample men, concentrating instead on what lay before him.
Surprisingly, the pirates’ band had assembled faster than he had thought. His blade connected with as much flesh as it did steel, but the charge soon ended.
Howling, the dogs arrived, with the infantry not far behind. The battle became a hand-to-hand combat. Delmer artfully hacked his way through the flailing bodies. Many of his men fell in behind him. There was no doubt that his side was winning the battle.
Continuing to make his way through the crowded field, he angled towards the back of the enemy's company, where their leaders would most likely be hiding. Some of the pirates saw his intention and tried to block him, but they only met their death under Fror's flashing hooves and Delmer’s unforgiving sword.
He was only vaguely aware of how his own men fared. Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of his banner, borne aloft by Tully, flapping crimson and green — or of a peasant crossing swords with a pirate. Mostly, he was focused on getting to the rear.
He burst into a clearing, and that was when he spotted him: Rogan. He was shouting orders to a wild-eyed young pirate.
What is he doing here? He should be back at the castle, and why is he with the pirates? Delmer was completely bewildered, finding it hard to accept that Rogan had betrayed him.
Spotting him from across the clearing, Rogan smirked. "Well, well, Your Majesty, you have returned alive. I must admit this is unexpected, but no matter. You are about to meet your defeat." His voice dripped with contempt.
Still astonished, Delmer found his voice. "You are about to defeat me?" he asked incredulously. In response, Rogan just smiled.
Suddenly the world came back into focus for Delmer. Swords clanged and men shouted in fury. The battle was pure chaos, and things might start going wrong. They had to regroup.
"To me, to me," he called in a voice that was loud enough for Tully to hear so he could blow his horn. His soldiers assembled quickly after hearing the signal.
Forming a tight ring, the men fought side by side, some on horses, others on foot. Gradually, they expanded their circle, eliminating enemies as they went. This maneuver, too, had been part of Delmer's plan.
Apart from Rogan, everything was going according to strategy. Until a screeching falcon dropped out of the sky. Barely pulling out of a dive, it clawed Delmer's shoulder. He saw it was Tymon, and his heart sunk.
What has gone wrong? Why is Tymon here?
Chapter 14
Rhythmically, Rebenna cantered through the hills. The up and down cadence lulled her, letting her forget the mission she had undertaken for a short time. The blistering gallop Trouble had set to begin with hadn't lasted long, and they shortly settled into a slower pace.
Occasionally, she glanced at the distant mountain now swiftly disappearing from view. She sighed, thinking of Delmer. I wonder what my fledgling king is doing.
It didn't take long for them to break out of the monotonous hills. Under her, Trouble was still fresh, though they had already traveled a day. As soon as the mare hit level ground, she lengthened her stride. The tall scrub grass rustled slightly as they rode, but Rebenna paid no mind. The break in rhythm had pulled her back to reality.
Completely alone, except for her animal companions, she felt insecure. She had to complete her mission without help. Although I should be used to being on my own by now, she mused. Delmer would not be there to bail her out this time.
Even crossing through her own country would be dangerous. If she ever was discovered, she would be executed instantly. In all likeliness, she would not even be granted a trial. Treason was the most heinous crime one c
ould commit in Noenna.
She had always managed to get herself into trouble, but before she had never gotten in so deep. All those times when she was young, her brothers and father had helped her out. Unfortunately, there was no way for them to help this time. Taking things in stride was the best thing she could do.
Meanwhile, she could concentrate on the animals’ physical needs. The meager amount of food she had gotten would last her two more days. After that, she and Tymon would have to hunt.
She settled into a routine. Rise early, sleep late, stop at small streams to have lunch or dinner. Sometimes she would wash her clothes and then leave them by the fire to dry. The wound on her arm had once cracked open and bled through the bandages, but it was finally beginning to heal. In long sleeves, only the end of the scab showed as it extended to her middle finger.
By the third day of the trek, they had run out of food. That was when she first caught sight of the Impenetrable Mountains. Though they had a fierce name, they were more like impenetrable hills. Mount Slate was more than twice their size. Growing up, she had always admired the mountains and their majestic peaks, but now Rebenna laughed out loud at her naiveté.
As far as ranges went, the Impenetrable Mountains were small, but they would still claim more than a day of her time. With the sun already beginning to sink low in the sky, she decided to stop at the inn near Nepo Pass. Once she had stayed there with her father.
The cozy little inn made her smile. It was just as she remembered it: with its white trim and potted flowers, it looked like an overgrown cottage. The inn had been the first she had seen of Malzepher when she was younger, so she had instantly thought of the country as a pleasant place.
Taking Trouble around back was a challenge. The mare resisted, still wanting to continue on the journey. When the stable girl came to take her reins, Trouble lashed out. Luckily, the girl managed to jump out of the way just in time.
"It's all right; I'll take care of her. She doesn't like other people handling her," Rebenna explained gently.
The girl's face fell. "Yes, madam," she said despondently.
Rebenna could tell she had been hoping to get a tip. So, still smiling, she took the girl's hand and pressed a few of her last personal sherps into it. Startled, the hesitant girl dropped the coins.
"Madam, I can't take these. I couldn't even do anything for your horse."
"That is not your fault. My horse is difficult. If you must, consider this payment for any trouble she causes you. By the way, what is your name?"
"Lauren, madam, and thank you so much for the money."
Rebenna smiled, remembering the dress she had bought from a woman with the same name. "It was truly my pleasure, and you can call me Grace. Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow morning. Good night, Lauren."
"Good night, Madam Grace."
Leaving the girl, she made her way into the inn. As she pushed the door open, she caught the scent of roasting pheasant. The smell reminded her of home. She was so close to home now, and yet the house where she grew up would never be home again. At some point in the past few weeks, she had sacrificed her right to return and live there.
She made her way to the innkeeper, a kindly-looking man with a thin mustache. "Sir, would it be possible to get a room here for the night?"
"Indeed, we do have a room for you, madam. Would you mind staying upstairs?"
The mention of an upstairs room cheered Rebenna immediately, and she flashed her famous smile. "I would like that. There must be a wonderful view. However, would it be possible to get some food first?"
“We could not even be considered an inn if we did not have food for our lovely guest,” he said genially. “Please sit. We will bring you some food."
"Thank you so much, Sir," she said, handing him her money.
With a slight nod and a smile, the innkeeper turned towards the kitchen while Rebenna shuffled wearily to a seat. She was completely exhausted, and it took a few seconds for her to realize that she had chosen an already occupied table. "I'm so sorry. Is it fine if I sit here? If not, I can find somewhere else."
"Stay," said the man she had addressed in a lilting accent.
She eyed the hooded figure suspiciously, not trusting anyone. Then she smiled her gratitude, and they lapsed into silence.
But finally fed up with the quiet, Rebenna tried to start a conversation. "Where do you come from? I noticed your accent and I have never heard it before."
"I am a wanderer. I live in many places. As for my accent, I am not the only person to have it."
After his brief reply, the man fell quiet again so Rebenna, having nothing better to do, studied him. His cloak was voluminous and distorted most of his body, but she guessed his build to be similar to her own. He sat perfectly erect, as though ready to bolt at any time. Beneath his hood, his face was in shadow. She might easily have called this stranger a wraith — although with his composed manner and hidden shape, he was intimidating.
Interrupting her musings, the innkeeper returned to place a plate before her. "Here is your food, madam. Enjoy it."
"Thank you so very much."
As the smiling host walked away, Rebenna dug into her food. Kingdom Cove had excellent food, but she had missed simple fare like cornbread or pheasant. After relishing her meal, she took a deep sip of aguav. She had missed the spicy tang of the drink native to her country.
All the comforts of home are near me, but I will never live there again. Rebenna only had to look around to remember that fact. Her mother would never have let a stranger, like the one at her table currently, eat with them.
With less delight, she quietly finished her meal, bid the wraith goodnight, and headed up to her room. As she had suspected, the room had a beautiful view of the mountain, but it no longer appealed to her. She was desperately homesick. Trying to numb the pain, she fell into the bed, her clothes still on. For a while she tossed and turned, but finally settled into an uneasy sleep.
When Rebenna awoke, she was in a cold sweat. She couldn't remember any of her dreams, but they had scared her. Shaking herself, she changed her clothes and dabbed her face with a cold cloth she found next to a pitcher of water. Taking her few belongings, she set off to saddle Trouble.
She had always felt like she belonged somewhere, but now she was trapped between worlds. She could never be fully a part of Malzepher, yet could not return to Noenna — nor would she want to. Trouble was the only constant in her life.
Rebenna reached the barn only to find her horse already saddled. Startled, she looked around for Lauren. “Did you saddle my horse?" she asked the girl.
"No, Madam Grace. She was saddled when I got here. I figured you must have come down early to do it. She even has food in her saddlebag. I am sorry, I must not have been paying attention!"
Trying to reassure the girl, Rebenna smiled. “I am happy that Trouble is already saddled. This is not your fault, so don't blame yourself. You're only a little girl."
"I'm not a little girl! I'm almost fourteen!"
"All right, I'm sorry if I insulted you. You have done a magnificent job. Goodbye, dear Madame Lauren.”
Despite herself, Lauren smiled at Rebenna's joke. "Goodbye, Madame Grace. Perhaps we will meet again.”
"I hope so." Turning away, Rebenna mounted Trouble, waved to Lauren, and set about her way.
As Rebenna felt her horse's muscles move beneath her, she forgot about her horrible night. Her thoughts again turned to her mission, and away from self-pity.
She had been on the road less than a mark when a voice from the side of the road startled her and Trouble. "You certainly make friends easily for an exile. Did you ever think that you could keep a low profile, Lady Rebenna?"
Surprised, Rebenna stopped Trouble, and turned towards the voice. "Who are you? How do you know who I am?"
"You met me last night, though obviously I am not worth remembering."
Seeing a hooded figure in the shadow of the trees with Tymon on his shoulder, comprehension dawned on he
r. "You're the wraith...”
At this comment, his voice took on an amused tone, "I have never been called that before, but I would assume you do mean me. I have been watching you for a long time Rebenna, and now I have been told to help you obtain your goal. My superiors believe you must have need of assistance."
"Where are you from? Have you been stalking me?" Rebenna asked incredulously.
"I am from Savann, but I have not been stalking you. I simply have been watching you."
“That’s my falcon.”
He corrected her. “It’s the kings. But I can care for it now.”
"You’re making a lot of decisions, and you know my name. Don't you think it would be fitting for me to know yours?"
The stranger hesitated for the barest of moments. "My true name is known only to those I serve. If you wish to call me by my Savann title, then you may: it’s Kellas."
"What does it mean?"
"As I said, it is my title; it means 'the servant' in a language even older than the Old Tongue. It is only used for rituals now in Savann."
Rebenna felt faintly uncomfortable calling this stranger a servant. Kellas noticed. "I assure you; I do not mind. In Savann it is considered an honor to be a servant."
Recovering her sarcasm, Rebenna returned to the topic of Kellas' presence. "You've been so forthcoming; would you care to tell me why you need to protect me? I can look after myself."
"I know perfectly well that usually you are capable of protecting yourself, but your arm is still hurting, isn't it?"
Defensively, Rebenna cradled her injured arm.
"I thought so, and that is why I have been told to guard you. You are also an ambassador, and in Savann, ambassadors deserve the utmost security. My last reason for being here is not to protect you, but to guide you. Without me, Rebenna, you would get lost. Does that answer all your questions?"
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