by Alma Boykin
Elizabeth opted to ride sidesaddle, to Lady Ann’s surprise. “Astride is more comfortable and safer over rough ground,” Ann pointed out.
“Yes, my lady, if you are used to it. But Snowy is not used to my riding astride, and no one has found a saddle that fits both of us. We can adjust later, my lady.” She’d already packed her panniers. She was not as happy with the fancy trim and new saddle cover. They made her tack too gaudy, in her opinion, and provided one more thing to have to deal with by covering her access to her panniers, and partly fouling the hilt of her saber. Nor did she care for the coat Ann insisted on giving her. It bound her arms when she stretched. Elizabeth decided that she would save it for special occasions and when they were near other people. She was used to being cold, and her old waxed coat served just fine.
Lady Ann, George, Lady Elizabeth, five guards and servants, and two packers departed the former hunting lodge three days later. As Elizabeth had guessed, keeping track of the small horse herd occupied George and three of the guards at all times. One guard rode ahead, scouting the route. The pack train followed behind Ann and Elizabeth. The weather held for several days, allowing them to get across the Starping Hills (low mountains to Elizabeth’s way of thinking) and down into the rolling foreland in good time. Then the autumn rains began, making each day’s ride a cold misery of mist and mud.
I am so glad I’m not in a lady’s carriage, Elizabeth thought, the occasional trickle of rain down her neck notwithstanding. They’d passed a farm wagon, bogged to its axels, the oxen straining to move it out of a low place in what had been the road. The wet murk did keep the horses quieter, allowing the men to relax. Elizabeth worried about Snowy losing a shoe to the sticky mud and wondered if she should just ask George to pull all four off. The group made less progress than planned and late that afternoon George called a halt.
“My ladies, we are not going to reach Hungerford before dark. Unless you know of a good reason to continue, I suggest that we turn around and shelter in that grove back there.” He pointed with his whip to a copse of trees a kilometer behind them. “There’s an old trade corral and we can be under way early.”
“I have no objection. Elizabeth?”
She shook her head. “Camping cold is fine. Better than risking a fall in the dark.”
Something bothered her that night. Elizabeth gnawed on the worry, trying to sort out just what kept her restless and unhappy. It was something about the farm wagon and what lay beyond Hungerford, a combination that made no sense at all. She told herself to quit fretting and go to sleep. She might have been gentleborn, but she could sleep anywhere, at almost any time, in any weather. The sense of trouble awoke when she did, and although she kept quiet, she shifted her equipment so that both her saddle knife and saber were within easy reach. She also rolled up Ann’s coat and tied it to the back of her saddle, between the panniers.
The rain had stopped during the night but the mud remained. The group skirted Hungerford, crossed the bridge over the Ungar River, and began climbing again. “This is the edge of the Hunting Hills,” Ann explained. “That’s not their original name, but we hunt deer and laygom in this area, so that’s what everyone calls them.”
“I see, my lady,” Elizabeth replied. “Are those Lander ruins?” She pointed to a stony pile barely visible through the trees.
“No, just rocks. The area has some strange rock formations. There are Lander remains, but the roads stay well clear of them,” and Ann made a sign of blessing. Elizabeth decided that Ann belonged to those who considered the Landers and their artifacts to be cursed, and so she did not ask any more questions on the topic, despite her own curiosity.
As they crossed the hills, Elizabeth’s unease continued to grow. She didn’t know why. The woods sounded like woods always sounded, she did not smell smoke or dead things, and the weather had started clearing. She undid the safety tie on her saber and pulled her gloves snug, feeling a little foolish as she did.
An hour later, metal scraped across metal and a horse screamed. “Shit,” Elizabeth and George swore in chorus.
“Ride!” George ordered. The women crouched in their saddles and kicked their mounts into gallops, charging through the horse herd and past a cluster of yellow-clad attackers. They’d almost reached a small rise and could see the top of yet another brown rock formation. Elizabeth suddenly realized what was about to happen. She kneed Snowy over, forcing Ann’s mare to slow and get off the road, turning onto a faint animal trail.
“What?” Ann demanded, scared and furious both.
“Trap. Behind hill. Follow me,” and she drew her saber. She guided Snowy with neck rein and leg, slowing and ducking under a few low branches as they skirted the hill. Sure enough, they could see four more riders in yellow waiting near the rocks for whoever escaped the forest.
Ann’s mouth tightened and she reached into her saddlebag, pulling out a heavy pistol. “Not around Snowy you don’t,” Elizabeth warned, urging the mule away.
“The horses are stampeding this way. We can use that to take at least two of these ukask.” Ann kneed her mare along the track, trying to stay out of sight and hearing of the would-be ambushers. The women heard hoof beats and tensed.
The four attackers rushed out of hiding in time to meet the Starland horse herd at full gallop. Two of the men found themselves swept up in the chaos. Elizabeth charged the third, hacking at him and his panicking mount both.
“Bang!” Elizabeth couldn’t tell if Ann’s shot hit because Snowy bolted, running hell for leather back up the road. She kept her seat and regained control just in time to ride into a melee. Find target, attack target, she recited, picking out a yellow back and slashing down on it, then slashing at the horse under the man. He tried to turn but Snowy bumped the smaller horse, giving Elizabeth time to slash again. Then she pivoted Snowy and pushed him forward, giving him room to kick. His hooves connected with a familiar wet “thud.” She ignored the results and circled around looking for another target.
The target found her. “Selkow,” a high voice screamed and a sword swished down. Elizabeth ducked and Snowy danced to the right, taking the blow on the rolled-up coat. The coat snagged her attacker’s sword and he tried to pull free. She reached with her left hand, dropping the reins to jerk loose the strap holding the coat before twisting and swinging as hard as she could. Her blade struck armor and she pulled up, squealing as she felt muscles trying to tear. Her blade slipped, then caught an unarmored throat and she pulled back again with her weight. Blood sprayed over her and Snowy both and the mule shied, braying in protest. Somehow she kept her seat and her saber, and even managed to stretch forward far enough to recapture the reins. “Back to Ann,” she told Snowy, turning the mule and leaving the men to their battle. She had her orders.
She found Ann and the two trotted after the horses. “Elizabeth, what happened?”
“Snowy galloped into the fight. I got at least one. He killed your coat. Sorry. You?” Elizabeth panted.
“Got one and trampled yours. Guards and horses went that way,” and she pointed with her whip.
“Have you reloaded?”
“No.” Elizabeth drew rein, watching the road behind them until Ann had checked the flint and reloaded her pistol. “We go.”
They went. They found the Starland horses and one guard a few kilometers farther down the road. He was pale and kept one hand on his thigh. “My ladies, are you well?”
“Yes, but you are not,” Ann informed him. “Elizabeth, watch the horses.” She stopped. “First clean your sabre, then watch the horses. You know the signals?”
“Yes, my lady.” Elizabeth wiped the drying blood, hair, and other things off her blade with her skirt, then sheathed the saber and began walking Snowy around the horses. He blew and puffed, proud of himself, and she scratched his crest. “Yes, you are a good boy,” she murmured. The horses seemed content to graze and rest after their wild run from the woods.
Ann bandaged the guard’s leg before rejoining Elizabeth. “We wait
an hour, then take the horses on. We’re two days from Starheart.”
“That close, my lady?” Elizabeth’s eyes bulged. They’d been ambushed by Turkowi this far within the borders? She twisted in the saddle, looking back up the road.
Motion caught her eye and Snowy pivoted, responding to her knee and hand. Ann also saw the movement and she tensed, backing her mare. “Michael, you need to,” she called, then stopped as the guard rode up, swaying a little in the saddle.
A pack mule brayed and Snowy replied. Elizabeth kneed him forward to meet the approaching riders, her hand on her saber, ready to spin Snowy and run as fast as she could. George raised his hand and called, “Stand down.”
“You’re sure?”
“By St. Gerald and St. Petri I’m sure. Are you injured?”
She glanced down, then back up, her teeth bared. “None of this is mine. Lady Ann got at least one.”
The group rounded up the horses and continued to an inn. More accurately, the owner of the large farm sometimes allowed people to stay the night, and George and Lady Ann informed him that the group would be remaining for at least a day. They’d lost one guard and one packer killed, along with two wounded. George had a slash on one arm and Elizabeth’s second attacker had not missed. “My lady, you have a hard head,” one of the guards observed. The slash had ruined her hat and cut her head, but it could have been much, much worse. She and Ann could have been captured alive. Two horses were also dead, one ridden by a guard and one killed by the crossbow Elizabeth had heard at the start of the ambush. The Starland men had managed to capture four of the attackers’ animals.
Elizabeth studied the new additions to the herd. They looked smaller and leaner than the Starland beasts, but just as intelligent. “Once they fill out with enough food, they’ll be good fresh blood for our herd,” George told her. “Pick what you want from their tack,” and he pointed to the stack of captured gear.
She looked at a blood-soaked saddle and lost what remained of her breakfast. Sweet St. Kiara, I killed three men. I killed three men. I— Killed— People! She threw up beside the dung heap, then burst into tears, revolted by what she’d done. Women didn’t kill people, nice people didn’t kill people, her mind insisted in Sr. Amalthea’s voice. The rest of her mind replayed the ambush in slow motion, showing her what she could have done better, how the enemy could have done better. Elizabeth clutched her head and wept, then vomited again and wept some more.
“Your first kill?” It was the farmer’s wife. She handed Elizabeth a bit of worn sacking to use to wipe her face. “Rinse and spit.” It was mint water and it tasted better than any fine white bread or wine.
Elizabeth whispered, “Yes. Snowy has killed before, but I havn’t.”
“I got mine with a pole arm. Never, ever attack a woman carrying a scythe.” The woman gave Elizabeth a grim and satisfied look. “We know how to use them. Swept him out of the saddle and almost cut him in half.” Then she sighed, “And sicked all over myself afterwards. They tried to burn our crops, thought a bunch of women alone would be easy prey. Not here, not on the borders. Although Godown willing, these won’t be borders for much longer.”
“Selah,” Elizabeth agreed. She staggered to her feet and followed the farm wife back to the others. “George? I’ll accept what ever tack my lord Starland allots me.” She had no desire to look at the blood-soaked saddles again.
Duke Starland rode in just after dawn. Elizabeth, already up and mounted, watched the road approach to the farm. One of the uninjured guards watched the woods-side of the farm, just in case someone decided to try again. Elizabeth saw the riders first and passed word to George and Ann before returning to her post by the gate.
“We found the bodies,” Aquila began. “What happened?”
“Turkowi in the woods, more on the back of the hill. Lady Ann and I ran, found the second ambush, waited until the horse herd came through and killed two of the ambushers. Snowy panicked and ran back into the main fight. We got two as I tried to turn him, then we ran again. Ann found the herd and took care of them and Michael, who was wounded, and we were about to move on when George and the others caught up to us. Stayed here last night to settle mounts and care for wounded.”
Aquila and his guards stared at her. Elizabeth fought off a yawn. She’d been up until midnight helping sew shrouds for the dead Starlanders, and had not slept well after that. “Where are Lady Ann and the others?” The duke asked.
Elizabeth pointed to the farmhouse with her riding stick. “There, your grace. We’d planned to leave just after sunrise.”
He rode into the farm, leaving Elizabeth to observe the road and the rest of the duke’s party. After a while Elizabeth shrugged and asked the Starland men, “Are you watching the road?”
“Yes, my lady,” one of them nodded.
“I’m going in. Thank you,” she added as she turned Snowy back to the farm.
There she found Starland glaring at his sister. “I told you to flee if you were attacked,” he growled.
Ann, hands planted on hips, glared right back at her older brother. “We did. There were more raiders in the way, so we used the horses to clear the route, then we fled.”
I don’t think I need to hear the rest of this, Elizabeth decided and guided Snowy back out of the farmyard. She dismounted and led the mule over to an ungrazed bit of grass by the road, hooked her lead rope to his bridle, removed the bit, and let him graze as she leaned against an odd grey-green stone. She stared up at a bit of cloud, watching it turn from blue to gray, then pink, and finally white as the sun rose.
She’d caught herself falling asleep twice before one of the guards called quietly, “Lady Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“His Grace has orders for you.”
She led Snowy back to the courtyard. Aquila studied her and Snowy, walking around them. “That’s dried blood.”
“Yes, your grace. I apologize for my appearance; I rinsed as much out as I could.”
He laughed. “Lady Elizabeth, you are… only a woman would apologize for having survived a fight and rescuing my horse herd. In light of the raid, plans have changed. You, the pack trains and horses, and George will continue on. Get to Granholm tonight, and then continue to Starheart tomorrow. Ann is staying with me for the moment. I will send messages for Lady Marie and Captain Destefani.” He stepped so close that Elizabeth could smell his breath. “If you are attacked again, run to Starhart, get the troops, and bring them back. Do not fight. You have a map?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Take this.” He pulled a round piece of metal out of his belt bag and pressed it into her hand. “Show it to Destefani and tell him that you are acting as my lieutenant and to follow you.” He stepped back, adding, “If you are not attacked, give it to Lady Marie upon your arrival.”
Elizabeth repeated his instructions.
“Good. You are packed?”
“Yes, your grace. My panniers are with the other baggage.”
Aquila stopped, blinked, and looked from his charge to her mount. “Where’s your hat?”
“It died in the fight, your grace.” Not really, but she was not going to admit that one of the farm goats had eaten half the brim because she had left the hat with her tack overnight!
He stared at her. “You were injured?”
“Not really, your grace. The hat took the blow and you lady sister’s coat took the rest.” She thought for a moment. “It was odd, your grace. The attacker’s sword stuck in the coat, as if the blade had barbs or something on it. He tried shaking the fabric loose and that allowed me to get away.”
“She got away after killing him, your grace,” George corrected from behind the duke. “Damn near cut his head off in the process. He was one of the Sworn Acolytes, judging by his gear.”
The duke’s face became unreadable as he looked from George to Elizabeth and back. He turned and stalked off.
An hour later Elizabeth, George, and most of the baggage and horses set off once more.
By the time they reached the town of Granholm, she was fighting off waves of sleep. The day had turned dark overcast despite dawn’s promise, and the dim light made her exhaustion even harder to deny. The party stopped outside the town, near the water-meadows. Elizabeth watered, fed, and groomed Snowy, then approached George to see which watch she would have.
“None, my lady,” he told her. “You are sleeping. I’ve called in some of the town watch to back us up. They get to do their patrol duty at home and we get more rest, which makes everyone happy.”
Since she was swaying on her feet, Elizabeth did not argue. She found Snowy’s saddle in the tack pile, pulled on her coat, and fell asleep as soon as she rested her head on the saddle, propriety and lady-like behavior be damned.
She woke up under a blanket. Her neck ached from the strange position and her mouth tasted like, well, like something she’d just as soon not admit that she’d read about. She muffled a groan and sat up, stretched a little, then got up and stretched some more. “Tea, my lady?” a man called, his voice quiet in the darkness.
“Yes!” She caught herself. “Yes, please, that would be delightful.” Manners, she scolded herself. She needed to start acting like a proper woman before she scandalized the Starlanders into tossing her out. Clothes will help, Elizabeth sighed, thinking about how good it would feel to wear something clean again. I wonder if they have any wool flannel I could use to make winter petticoats?
They reached Starheart late the next afternoon in the middle of a dripping rain. Elizabeth swore that she’d never be without a riding hat again. The light, slow rain managed to get in her collar, under her skirt hem, and ran down her sleeve when she raised her hand to wipe mud off her face after a horse spooked and kicked, spattering everyone around it. Elizabeth was not sure if she’d ever been so happy to see a place as she was to spot the towers of Starheart keep looming over the valley. George called a halt so everyone could get sorted, and so they would not be mistaken for a raiding party. “Is that hill man-made?” She asked him.