Corsair Princess

by Hausladen, Blake;

  There was a comfort in being back in command of my brigade. Bayen’s finest, I had so often called them. It was time for them to prove it.

  I abandoned the thought of my colonels, trusting in their ability to wheel round and smash unattended infantry. Before me was the hard work, the 30,000 light cavalry that swirled and picked at the long wall of my struggling infantry. I rode straight at them, and my 2,000 became a flying dagger of Hemari.

  “Order, wheel left,” I cried. “Divide by troop and charge!”

  It was the dream of every lieutenant who’d ever held a spear atop a charging Akal-Tak—the open field, a vast and innumerate enemy before him, and fifteen perfect men, perfect horses, and perfect spears at his command. No men upon this earth could stop us.

  Bayen’s best brigade reached northwest like the stabbing talons of eagles, and we cut those shabby men from their inferior horses. Darting, wheeling, savage thrusts—the dance needed drums, pipes, and the loud song of wild women.

  The Havishon convulsed southwest away from us only to crash upon the lines of Kaaryon levies once and again. And those boys held, by Bayen above, and they proved that a strong man with a strong spear can give death to any mad rush of horses. The last moments of the Havishon cavalry became a pageant of the breakdown of command. They split, collided, and disassembled until it was every man for himself. A few tried surrender and received the Kaaryon’s pardon upon the point of a spear.

  Panic took over. It had a sound. Their angry bellows became shrill. The exhausted horses coughed and wheezed. The dying wailed. The gray field became a red bog, and the chaos of those moments carried men close to me, at last.

  The first panicked man I faced did not see me, and I punched him savagely from the saddle with my spear. The trio behind him saw my helmet and hollered with eastern pride at the prospect of taking it.

  I raced Marrow in, darted left at the last possible instant, and treated the third man to a bellyful of spear. The other two closed as I circled still left, my shield up and ready. I deflected the swipe of a sword, caught the second on the hip with a long thrust, and stabbed the third in the armpit after he missed his parry.

  I searched around me for more, but there were none left for me to practice upon. All that remained were tight troops of bluecoats cloaked in dust, serenaded by the dying wails of our vanquished foes. Okel and my personal guard collected around me. They did not begrudge me the fight I’d found, and saluted the blood upon my spear with prideful nods.

  The darkening sky above began to deliver the promised rain. It knocked down the dust and quickly made the field a slick hazardous place for any but the nimblest horses and experienced riders. It beat a pinging rhythm upon my armor. I let it wash my face and eyes.

  My regiment reformed around me. The forward element of the Havishon horsemen was no more. My infantry was intact. I ordered my brigade into shape and looked east for the rest of the 5th through the clearing air.

  The section of Havishon infantry I’d aimed them at was gone as well—smeared mercilessly into the earth, but the rest of the 5th was not there, either. I looked north, thinking they’d found an opportunity to strike into the Havishon reserves, but the long lines of light blue pennants were undisturbed.

  “There,” Okel shouted and pointed off to the southeast.

  My colonels had turned south and were heading toward the yellow pennants in the distance.

  “Those are not Yudyith lancers,” I said and asked a question I already knew the answer to. “What force is that?”

  Yarik.

  The yellow pennants were not more men from the East. It was my brother prince, arriving on Disand’s flank, hopeful of my death and certain of a grand victory over the East.

  Okel asked, “Where, by God, do Ivinta and Feseq think they are going? Do they mean to join up with your brother? Are they giving him your regiments?”

  It seemed so, but their formation was one of attack. I said, “The 5th has been stolen from me, but not by Ivinta and Feseq. Sahin is somewhere in their midst.”

  “How could that be?”

  “Disguised again as Hemari, using his magic. He is going to spend my brigades to try and kill Yarik.”

  In their midst I caught a flash of white. A woman, perhaps, riding with them.

  Liv. It could only be her.

  “Okel, Take command of its infantry. Keep the noble and levies together and let the Havishon feast upon Disand. I go to join the 5th. Preserve a place for us to withdraw to. All depends upon you.”

  He saluted me and raced away. I turned my brigade south and started us after my stolen men.

  Sahin was not hurrying, and I did not understand him or his magic as we approached. He had the rest of the 5th focused upon the mass of yellow like a pack of dogs getting ready to charge at a herd of bulls.

  We cantered in behind them, and a cold tingle pricked my neck. It was subtle—harmless seeming. I looked south and found my brother’s pennant. Anger took me, and thoughts of killing Yarik bloomed. Every Hemari there had longed for me to give the order to kill my brother. This rogue priest was spending only the smallest magic—a spark upon a pond of oil. It was genius. It compelled us to do something we wanted to do.

  And he was right. Yarik must die, and I would be the one to kill him.

  Kill Yarik.

  Yes. Kill him. Now!

  Marrow carried me forward in a mad gallop. I drew my sword and pointed it at Yarik.

  He was there upon his towering horse. Deceitful cretin. I would kill them all. I could see him considering a charge. His men were ready. They had come to murder me.

  “Hya!” I screamed, and Marrow gave me the full measure of her being. The Hemari surged forward.

  The icy touch of magic pecked me hard as I rode past a flash of white. Somewhere in my mind was an image of a gray-faced wretch of a man compelling me to do this thing. I cared not. The 5th took up my call, and we charged.

  “Death to Yarik!” we screamed. I aimed us at the man—surprise now upon the faces of the Hurdu. Their officers screamed them to attack, but they were only just starting to move when we crashed upon them.

  These were not the infants of the East. These were the towering Hurdu in armor better than the Hessier’s. They outnumbered us. We cared not. Into them, we pressed, our spears and swords keen, our Akal-Tak and our arms warm and ready from our dance with the whoresons of the East. The heavy Hurdu’s coursers were slow upon the slick earth. We raced around and through them, pricked their unarmored guts and rammed the yellow-cloaked riders out of their saddles. A pouncing Akal-Tak’s steel hooves easily finished the job.

  In, we pressed, as death swirled around us. Thousands on both sides fell. The overburdened coursers tired. Our fleet Akal-Tak did not. They loved the long dance, and my Hemari were no pampered royal sons. We were the 5th, the hard-chewed and ugly. Ohh, and how swift our spears were and how clever our horses.

  Sahin’s magic was long gone, but on we went, the two great divisions tearing at each other’s throats.

  “On me,” I cried as I spotted Yarik’s pennant. The 5th stabbed south into the last great wall of towering steel. Again, our nimble horses outmatched them, and Hurdu by the hundred went down.

  My guards were close around me when a countercharge of Hurdu crashed toward me. Half my men were cleaved away, and I was drawn into the mix. Marrow leapt aside as one came on, and my thrust snapped his armored head back with a crunch. He toppled out of the saddle, fouling another trying to charge in toward me. I circled and lanced his courser’s thigh. It reared, slipped in the slime, and both went over in a terrible crash.

  I turned as my remaining handful of guards reassembled around me. The 5th seemed utterly engaged. All around me Hemari and Hurdu fought to the death.

  “There he is,” Colonel Ivinta hollered suddenly on my right, and I followed his finger west to a half company that had broken away. My colonel had a hundred of his scouts, and we were after Yarik at once. We darted clear of the savage melee and chased hard af
ter him.

  Our Akal-Taks made up the ground, and Marrow proved herself the fittest. I stabbed horse after horse upon their unprotected thighs, and they went down in bone-breaking tumbles of flesh and steel.

  It was bloody, terrible work. Ivinta was stabbed through the heart and fell. His scouts wore little armor, and they began to fall in increasing numbers. Yet like angry hornets, we chased on and on.

  I tired. Marrow tired. The Hurdu horses began to cough and to simply fall. There was just the twenty of them left when Yarik’s horse fell, and they turned, at last, to face us.

  It was an ugly collision, and the Hurdu settled the score with my scouts. We quickly spent our advantage in numbers tearing them down to ten. I broke my spear in the neck of a Hurdu horse, and my heavy sword shattered when I cleaved open the rider’s helmet.

  “A sword,” I shouted. A scout gave me his, but when I turned nothing at all was moving.

  The Hurdu were dead. Yarik lay nearby, clutching a mangled leg. Behind me were three Akal-Taks. The first bore that mapmaker from the swamps with the giant signature—guardsman Kalyn Fostrish.

  The pair behind him were not Hemari.

  It was Liv and the gray-faced man. His light blue silks were a wet and filthy sheath, and her once bright white dress was a tattered mess. Her blazing eyes met mine. I gasped from a flash of joy that crumbled away as the pain and fury of the day turned all our eyes toward my brother.

  I dismounted and crossed.

  He was trapped in his mangled armor his visored helmet was twisted. He could not see me coming.

  I took hold of him by the side of his breastplate, rolled him, and cut the straps. He batted at me and yelled out. I pinned his arm up behind his head, got the tip of my sword into his armpit, and slowly drove it down into his villainous heart.

  He coughed, gargled, and lay still.

  “It is done,” a sickly voice whispered. It was Sahin. He was shriveled, and I could feel the icy touch of his dreadful power.

  He turned to Liv. “End it. I cannot resist the Shadow much longer.”

  Before I knew what he meant, she took hold of him by the collar and slashed his throat wide open.

  He bled red, but weakly, as though there was nothing left in his veins. He crumbled to the sickly earth and looked no more significant than a bundle of rags.

  “Sir,” guardsman Fostrish said, but I ignored him as Liv looked upon me.

  I stepped close, discarded my helmet, and stood before her.

  She dropped the bloody knife, took hold of me by the ears with a fantastic smile, and kissed me. I wrapped her in my arms and learned again the leaping ecstasies of so perfect a love.

  “Sir!” my scout said again and took hold of my arm. “Hurdu approach.”

  I looked up in search of the 5th. The distant field where I had left them was empty of blue. All that remained was the yellow of the Hurdu.

  They were gone. My division was no more—spent upon a field of ash to buy me the death of my brother.

  Kalyn crossed and pulled off my brother’s helmet. I worried why he would do it, and I blinked at what he revealed.

  It was not Yarik. My brother had sent another man in his place.

  I had failed. Yarik lived, the Havishon remained, and the 5th was no more.

  57

  Madam Dia Yentif

  Lady Umera

  “Dia, the signal,” Umera shouted as she hurried down from the roof of the keep. “Soma’s ships have been sighted moving up the coast. They will be in harbor right on time. Hurry!”

  We’d made quite a gamble planning the last day of the festival to coincide with her scheduled return on the 73rd of Spring, but our admiral had not missed a date all spring. And like the well that Mayor Oklas had finished for the town the previous year, the completion of Master Sevat’s grand ship was an event that required a celebration. Lady Umera and I had assembled the same committee of Urnedi’s fine ladies, and we had willed the event into existence. The date in late summer Fana had chosen just would not do. You cannot have a spring festival a few days before the autumn.

  I could not attend, citing illness as excuse to hide my pregnancy, but I’d get close enough to see it.

  We made our way down and climbed into the carriage to find Fana and Pemini already inside. I understood them to be back on speaking terms, which was good because it was too long a ride to suffer their unexplained feud any longer.

  But Pemini was crying.

  “What is it?” I asked. She sobbed, smiled, and pointed. Fana couldn’t stop blushing, and as we made it into our seats, Pemini began to laugh.

  “Girls, please,” I said, unused to such mysteries as the ones these two inflicted upon me.

  Umera said, “I think Fana just told Pemini that she is pregnant.”

  “What?” I said and suddenly I was crying and laughing too. “How long?”

  “A while,” she said as we all hugged her. “I’m due around the 1st of winter, we figure. I wanted to be sure of it before we told anyone. And I had to tell my parents first, of course. They arrived this morning for the festival.”

  Fana kept right on talking too as we attacked her with hugs. She did not like it and had handkerchiefs for each of us to dry our eyes.

  “Are you going to take a break from your duties?” Umera asked. She was teasing, but Fana missed it.

  “How can I?” she asked. “Soma will have another 4,000 immigrants aboard. They need to be added to the census, house books have to be setup, pledges signed … you can all stop giggling any time.”

  “You love every moment of it,” I said. “Look at you. You can’t even complain about it without smiling.”

  She tried to protest further by detailing the takeover of Onmar and Haton’s interests. We were saved from the litany when the carriage got up to speed and the rumbling clatter of the wheels upon the fresh cobblestones drowned her out. We giggled at her until we’d reached the flat squares of the ancient Edonian road, and by then she’d given up.

  The driver called the team to speed upon the flatter road, and we were off. We opened the shutters and marveled at the flashing greens of the forest.

  Fana knew better than to let us gang up on her again. She asked Umera, “So where have you been keeping yourself all season? I’d expected you to be at the keep convalescing with Dia.”

  “Did you?” she asked, but went on to say, “Uniforms. The Chaukai have me making all their uniforms, soldiers and sailors. I have craftsmen in Hippoli making buttons and fittings, a regular supply of wool from Almidi, and dyes from Madam Sedauer’s nettleworks in Ojesti. My girls and I do all the assembly at their camp. I’m there most every day with all the other craftsmen they’ve hired on. It’s a town onto itself now.”

  “You made all of them?” I asked, but knew it must be so. Someone had to.

  “We did, and have thousands more in the works for when the boys return from Heneur. It is a shame they could not all be here for the festival.”

  The speedy carriage made its way up the ridge, and I caught one glimpse of Thell’s stud farm off to the north before Enhedu’s countless great trees blocked the view. I asked Fana about it, but received no reply as we rolled into the village of Ojesti and the noise of children playing had us all looking out the window. The field just east of the town had more children in it than I’d ever seen in once place in my entire life. Thousands of them.

  “You’d never see this in Bessradi,” I said, and we all watched in silence as the great mob of children ran this way and that. It seemed a great game of tag was in the works but with rules I could not comprehend. “I’d not realized it would be so many.”

  I spotted the watchers as we made it closer to the village. Greencoats ringed the field, and Errati stood with a group of adults on the near side in front of tables of food and drink.

  “Over 3,000 of them,” Umera smiled. “Errati volunteered for the task. He has a soft spot for children.”

  “Say, Fana,” I said, “what do you intend to do with all o
f your teachers after you have the house books settled?”

  “A school for the children?” Umera asked and all three of them lit up and began talking at one.

  “For girls and boys?” Pemini asked with that tone of hers that made it clear that she was not really asking a question.

  “For them all, I would say,” Umera replied. “Age five until they are old enough to enter a trade—thirteen or maybe fourteen?”

  “Exactly,” Fana said. “We’ll teach them reading and writing, history, anatomy, mathematics.

  “And music,” Umera said. “We’ve too little of it.”

  That was roundly agreed, and the girls chatted away about who would make the best teachers until the carriage pulled to a halt.

  “Time for me to say farewell, ladies,” I said. They each gave me a kiss, and when the Chaukai opened the side door, I took his hand and stepped down.

  Barok and others were a distance up the nearby slope. I walked up with my guards while the carriage continued on. It was a longer climb than I’d expected but it felt tremendous to get some proper exercise. The cliff edge vantage point above was magnificent.

  I caught my breath a bit and bid good afternoon to Gern and the metal-clad Chaukai that surrounded us.

  I took Barok’s arm and drank in the view of the road, harbor, and the calm blue of the sheltered bay. A long row of pavilion tents reached the full length of the beach, and half of Enhedu was there feasting upon the many foods, beers, ciders, and wine. The view included the magnificent buildings of the College of Healers that were going up along the long arm of the peninsula that reached southwest across the harbor’s entrance. The pennants for the horse races reached from the beach all the way around the college and back.

  I’ll be able to see the whole thing!

  Barok was not looking at any of it. “You’re frowning. How can that be? Look there, Soma’s ships are already in sight and all of Enhedu rejoices. What could possibly trouble you on a day such as this?”

  Gern handed me a letter written upon crisp vellum. It was from Barok’s uncle Bendent, and my eyes spotted Sahin’s name upon the sheet. I could not believe a word of what I was reading.