The burning of Lynndon bothered Brude; to him it was a clear sign of hope in the people of Massi. A few years ago they meekly accepted defeat and occupation, but now the ruins of the town virtually smoldered with palpable defiance. He did not like the thought of having an entire country bent on his destruction. Fortunately, Brude knew that most of the fighting people of Massi were occupied with the presence of the Temple Knights, and soon they would be even more distracted by the arrival of the Palmerrio and Rhondono.
“How long before we have enough shield houses to try again?” Arden asked, his voice betraying a bit of the nervousness Brude was feeling. The older advisor felt comforted by this show of caution from his young King.
‘It is good to feel caution during war, when nothing is certain,” Ja Brude thought as he glanced about once more. There was very little readily available wood left in the town of Lynndon. Shield houses, which were aptly named, were just that, small “A” frame structures which looked like houses but were in fact shields to guard groups of men from the missiles that would be raining down on them. Carried by and protecting four men, the shield houses contained four corner posts that dropped nearly to the ground and were anchored by two cross pieces with which the men carried the house. In all, the house weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds, heavy but not overwhelming for four strong men, but hauling it up the steep inclines of the Scar was not something to be envied. Still Brude thought it might be a touch better than being arrow shot or having your skull crushed by small boulders.
“We’ll need to send a party of men back to the town of Derbyville,” Captain Bodwin began. “It’s the closest wood sou….”
A soft thump interrupted his explanation and he fell from his horse. By the time Ja Brude tracked his movement and looked down, blood was pouring from the arrow wound in the Captain’s neck. The shaft nearly passed completely through the outer third of the man’s throat and the feathers were already matted and sticky with blood. Bodwin’s eyes were wide with fright as his fingers fought to stem the flood. Neither Brude nor King Arden climbed from their horses to help, instead both quickly moved away from the Scar. The exhausted soldiers who were retreating on foot around them, quickly found new energy and ran alongside their King. Brude was dimly aware of jeering coming from up on the Plateau and wondered what kind of a man could have shot an arrow such a distance. It seemed impossible…and to have hit someone, even more so.
They pulled to a stop after traveling maybe fifty yards and turned back to see Bodwin trying to follow. He somehow managed to climb to his feet and apparently pulled the arrow from his neck, for it was gone. He shuffled slowly toward them, right hand bloody and pressing to the wound, and as the last of the retreating soldiers pulled even with him a large beefy Sergeant hoisted the Captain up by one arm and helped him to safety. Brude couldn’t help but wonder why…the Captain was a dead man, anyone could see that. But as the two passed his position, Captain Bodwin was still alive.
“Take him to the hospital tent,” Arden said, trying for the world to sound strong and brave despite his recent scare. He turned back to Ja Brude.
“Find Captain Tillis…we need those shield houses,” the King said. “The sooner we are on the Plateau the better.”
Brude found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.
ǂ
Cyn de Baard was sitting up in her cot, her wounded shoulder was beginning to feel better but the pain in her jaw was still considerable despite the willow bark tea she was drinking by the pitcher. She looked up as Gwaynn entered the tent and her heart betrayed her and began the drumbeat of love in her chest despite her new resolve to leave him and hunt the High Tar of Sinis…she would have to heal in any case. Without thinking or realizing it, she began to smile, but a sharp pain quickly caused her to wince instead. She winced mentally as she caught sight of Samantha following along behind her one and only love.
Cyndar watched as Gwaynn approached, his eyes stayed on hers, never leaving, never straying.
“I am in your debt,” he said, placing a hand gently on her uninjured shoulder then he leaned over and touched his lips to her forehead.
“Krys tells me the Executioner’s intended target was Samantha,” Gwaynn continued.
Cyndar nodded, her eyes tracking to the bitch just behind him only for a moment. She found if she looked any longer, anger began to well up within.
“Thank you Cyndar,” Samantha said without approaching closer. She actually felt sorry and grateful for the woman propped up before her. Cyndar was sitting in a plain white shift, her left arm was held in a sling and her shoulder was wrapped tight with bandages. Samantha could also see additional bandages wrapped around her chest just below the open collar of the shift, but it was Cyndar’s face that caused Samantha the strongest feelings of guilt. Cyndar’s appearance had caused such jealousy in Samantha but now her entire face was covered with either bandages or wounds. The bandages wrapped tightly around her chin and over the top of her head, before coming down around her chin once more. They were wrapped at least a half dozen times holding Cyndar’s injured jaw securely in place. The bandages hid most of her face, but her nose was visible and looked to be broken and there were still dark rings around both of her eyes. The woman before her seemed smaller, less intimidating and Samantha wondered if she regretted taking such hideous injuries for the sake of another person.
“How are you eating?” Samantha finally asked, and even stepped a bit closer. Cyndar looked a bit thin now that she got a good look at her.
Cyndar tried not to glare at the girl before her, not wanting her hatred to appear in her eyes. ‘I’m going to gut you like a fish,’ she thought blandly.
“We remove her bandages, but for the next week or so she will be on a liquid diet,” Doctor Linkler explained from behind them as he entered the tent. “We want to keep her jaw movement to a minimum.”
Cyndar sighed. She didn’t like Linkler at all.
“How soon until she’s up to speed?” Gwaynn asked and Cyndar was gratified that his eyes never left hers.
“The pain in her jaw should subside relatively quickly,” the doctor explained. “And she should be eating soft food again next week, but it will be close to a month before her jaw is anywhere near normal. Even then, she will have to be careful because it will be much easier to dislocate again in the future. Her cuts, while serious, pose no real danger, but the stab wound in the shoulder could cause her to lose some of her mobility in that arm…I’d say three months in all before she can return to the fighting.”
‘Three months!’ Gwaynn and Cyndar thought in unison.
“hmmmphhhh,” Cyndar mumbled, shaking her head to show she disagreed with the assessment.
Gwaynn smiled at Cyndar’s obvious rebellion. “We’ll be heading out onto the Plateau soon,” he told her and gave her good shoulder a soft squeeze. His touch was warm, almost intimate, all the more so because the bitch was present and Cyndar found she still craved the feel of his hands on her. “I’ll need you to help Captain Vosser keep an eye out for the Temple Knights…Zebo will be staying behind if anything deve…”
“Aaaaahhh,” Samantha exclaimed, flinching and reaching for her midsection.
Cyndar felt Gwaynn’s eyes ripped from hers as he looked worriedly toward the red-haired whore.
“Are you all righ…”
“I’m fine,” Samantha interrupted. “I think I just felt the baby move…there it is again,” she added happily. She grabbed Gwaynn’s hand off Cyndar’s shoulder and placed in neatly on her belly. Cyndar glared at her, the Black Horseman looking out from her eyes.
Gwaynn stood very still, not even daring to breathe, but after several moments still felt nothing.
“May I?” Doctor Linkler asked and then placed a flat palm on Samantha’s midsection. “Is this the first time you’ve felt the baby?”
Samantha nodded.
Linkler smiled as Cyndar glowered, but nobody was paying much attention to her at the moment. “You’ll be coming up on the half wa
y point in your term in a few weeks then,” he said and Samantha looked at Gwaynn in wonder…and then suddenly, fear.
‘What if something happens to me?’ The thought came to her unbidden and unwanted. She was going to fight…nothing would stop her from going with her archers. She’d spent too much time preparing to be left behind now.
“It’ll be alright,” Gwaynn said, reading her feelings well, but inside he was just as worried, just as fearful. Before anything more could be said on the matter Krys barged into the tent, followed by Emm, who caught sight of Cyndar and frowned.
“The Toranado have arrived,” Krys said a little breathless.
Gwaynn looked up but did not react to the news. “Good, tell Prince Phillip to make camp for the night. We will continue the march south to the Aleria Pass come morning.”
Krys smiled, he was growing tired of sitting about and was ready for action. It was time to teach the Palmerrio a little about caution.
ǂ
Captain Hothgaard rode at the very head of the column, leading nearly twenty-five hundred Temple Knights on a reconnaissance mission to Manse. The column stretched nearly a mile, as if inviting attack, which was exactly the case. The Massi cavalry were out and on the loose. Word of the Rhondono defeat reached Hothgaard the previous morning. He promptly sent a force of fifteen hundred Knights under the conservative and reliable Captain Tramm in a sweep of the lands west of Cape. He doubted the Massi were still in the area of the battle, but he wanted to be sure, and he wanted to keep the west free of opposition. He imagined the Massi horsemen were already retreating to the safety of Manse and the Scar, but in the hopes of forcing the issue, he gathered a second force and decided to lead it himself toward the base city of the Massi. If for some reason the Massi cavalry lingered on the plains in the west they would find themselves trapped between two forces. And then they would have to fight their way through the Knights in order to gain the safety of the Plateau. Hothgaard doubted the Massi would be caught so easily, after all they’d come back to defeat the Deutzani and the attack on the Rhondono showed that at least someone understood when a potential gain outweighed the risk of defeat. The loss of the Rhondono foot soldiers was a blow, but not a fatal one for Hothgaard and the Knights. They were only a supplemental force to aid in the siege of Cape, but Hothgaard had no real intention of attacking the port city.
The day warmed nicely throughout the afternoon and despite the clouds building menacingly in the south, the afternoon remained quite pleasant. The Captain just hoped any bad weather would hold off at least until they made camp.
As he rode, Hothgaard noticed that a few leaves were beginning to change and wondered if this war would be over before the leaves finally dropped. He hoped so. Hothgaard glanced about the countryside, growing impatient. He spurred his mount into a trot suddenly very interested in seeing Manse for himself. His scouts informed him that the defenses were formidable. Hothgaard shrugged, once the Palmerrio crossed over the Scar Mountains and onto the Plateau, the Massi would either have to fight or be trapped within the folly of their own defenses.
After an hour they were within ten miles of the city, and the smell of rain hung in the air. It wasn’t long before the low gray clouds turned nearly black and the rains opened up, effectively blinding them for any distance.
Hothgaard frowned, drenched almost immediately. “Let’s tighten up,” he told his Sergeant. “If the Massi are indeed out and waiting, this would be the time.”
He was correct; at that very moment Captain Gaston waited with just over nineteen hundred horsemen in a shallow gully to the east of the advancing column of Knights. Gaston was nervous, but when the rains came he did not hesitate. He immediately sounded the order to attack and was the first to move up and out of the gully. He spurred his horse hard, charging toward the enemy, his blood already rushing through his veins faster than his horse could gallop.
The Massi charge crashed into the Knight’s line, cutting completely through the last quarter of the enemy and at nearly the same time another force of nearly five hundred horsemen attacked from the rear. The maneuver was masterful, designed to isolate and destroy a large section of an enemy force. With luck the strategy would confuse and scatter the remainder, but the Knights were not easily rattled and without even a word from Captain Hothgaard, the center of the formation rolled to the west away from the main attack and then circled about to reinforce the trailing sections. At the same time the lead column of the Knights galloped forward and then circled back to the east, intent on surrounding and crushing the foolish enemy force. It was a classic attack, counter attack scenario and within moments Gaston and the rest of the Massi cavalry went from aggressor to defenders.
“Hold fast!” Gaston yelled loudly, still moving fast. He lost control of his lance when it plunged through the back of a Knight who was engaged with another of his men. He glanced about in the rain, desperate to make out the position of the main section of the enemy. At first he could see nothing, and was distracted as another Knight charged his direction. He kicked his horse into motion in order to meet the threat with force. They passed one another with a clang of steel on steel, Gaston moving farther out into a nearby field. It was then that he spotted a force circling about from the north, pounding through the mud and rain in perfect formation. He watched, mesmerized for a moment until he recognized the column as another group of Temple Knights. His heart sank as he looked wildly about for more Massi horsemen. His search was short-lived as a spear point glanced off his left side, slicing into his rib cage. The force of the blow nearly threw him from the saddle, but somehow he managed to stay mounted. He righted himself, not even feeling the pain of his wound. He parried another attack from the Knight who seemed bent on killing him, but even as he fought Gaston continued to mark the progress of the company of Knights riding hard his way. He swiftly turned and with his left kali removed the head of the lance which aimed at his heart. The Knight engaging him yelled in frustration and drew his sword. He slammed his well-trained mount into Gaston’s horse pushing the animal back and the Massi Captain was forced to use all of his concentration on the fight at hand. As he fought Gaston’s strength and speed began to take their toll on the shocked Knight, keeping the man on the defensive. The Knight retreated from a flurry of hard well timed blows; finally after several long minutes of fighting, Gaston managed to relieve the Knight of his right hand and when he screamed the Captain sliced through the man’s neck. But even as the man fell to the ground, Gaston could sense the enemy approaching his rear and he knew that if the Knights were allowed to circle around his position, all would be lost.
ǂ
The night before they were to leave for the Aleria Pass to meet the Palmerrio was a late one, full of planning, full of contingencies, full of “what ifs.” But now the meetings were over and Lonogan sat on his bed alone in his room in the western bailey. As usual he’d left the planning to Gwaynn and the others. He knew his own strengths and weaknesses. He was a logistics general…good at his job because he knew how to get things done but planning and strategy would never be his strong point. So he let Gwaynn and Hahn provide the plan and he would see it carried out.
It was very late; he should sleep. Tomorrow would be a long hard day of riding across the open Plateau, but he was still too energized and despite the numerous threats closing in on them, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from returning to na Gall. Since their return from Cassinni, thoughts of the Traveler were consuming him. He tried various methods to banish her from his head, but his mind was being completely insubordinate. Images of Jess kept returning and playing themselves out in a seemingly endless loop of fantasy. Finally, now that he was completely alone, Lonogan surrendered his thoughts to her with relish. He wondered if she was having her fantasies about their kiss or if she was already soundly sleeping next door…no, not next door. He had to remind himself again and again that she was staying down below in Manse at Taylor’s brand new hotel. She was not close…not right across the hall as she’d been in
Parma. It was a sad, sobering thought.
His mind relived their kisses once again and he sighed, shaking his head in disgust. A general should have more discipline over his body and his mind. He stood and went to the water basin and splashed a bit on his face. He should sleep. They would be preparing to ride in a little over six hours. Hell, they were going to war and he would need all his wits about him, but he didn’t return to his bed, instead he held his wet hands over the candle flame enjoying the warmth as the heat evaporated the water left behind. When his hands were dry he blew out the candle, determined to get some rest but as he turned he felt a small disturbance in the air and suddenly she was there before him, floating like an apparition in the darkness. His eyes were not yet fully adjusted to the dark and he could not see her well, but her wonderfully familiar scent filled the room.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said very softly and Lonogan’s heart soared. Taking a Traveler as a lover definitely had its advantages.
“Nor I,” Lonogan whispered back and quick as a flash she shrugged and let the cloak she was wearing fall from her shoulders. She was wearing nothing else. Lonogan breath caught in his throat and he stood completely still, enthralled, straining to see in the darkness.
She moved toward him. He wanted to see her and briefly considered turning back and to the candle, but then she was next to him and he could feel the warmth coming off of her skin in waves.
“I couldn’t stay away,” she whispered, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath as she spoke. “If something were to happen…”
Lonogan finally moved and reached out, touching her shoulders first. His hands moved down her arms and then found her waist. It was small, nearly small enough for his fingers to circle and touch at her back. And then her arms went around his neck and they embaced tightly and he was lost in the feel of her. She smelled amazing and her skin was so smooth and warm and oh so soft to the touch.
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