Hearts of Fire

by Michael Jason Brandt

  And if he does, whose side are you on, young prince? But that question could not be asked of the king’s own son, and Gornada felt treasonous for even thinking it. The lad had simply asked a question; there was no reason to suspect his loyalties were conflicted.

  Nevertheless, Gornada hardened his tone. “We are prepared for that possibility. One way or the other, the traitors are coming back. That much is certain.”

  Conflicting emotions were clearly playing out inside the boy’s heart as well as on the youthful face. Yet the captain was unconcerned. In time, adulation for a childhood hero would fade, replaced by love and loyalty for one’s own. If and when conflict between the kingdoms broke out in earnest, the prince would be cured of any lingering doubts. War did that to people, for better or worse.

  Sympathetic to the prince’s confusion, Gornada changed the subject. He placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “How fares the training, My Prince?”

  Toby immediately flushed with excitement. “Oh! Thank you for reminding me, Uncle. I have a favor to ask.”

  “Indeed?” Gornada raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes. As you know, Master Silgo was killed in the fighting. Prince Nicolas was training me for a time after that, but…”

  “You need a new trainer. Of course.”

  “Actually, Uncle, Leti thought you might train me personally.” His tone was hopeful, but uncertain.

  The thought of working with such an ungainly disciple was not particularly appealing. But at least Toby did not lack enthusiasm, and that was half the battle when it came to training. Gornada had seen more than a few soldiers achieve heights they had no business reaching simply through effort and determination, and had seen far more never realize their potential because of the lack of those qualities. In any case, training Toby would necessarily be only for a short time, until command of the southern army was officially announced. He smiled warmly, pleased by the new direction of the conversation.

  “It would be an honor, My Prince.”

  The answering grin made the inconvenience more palatable. It was a good note to end on, and Gornada was relieved when Tobias bowed and took his leave.

  That left only the captain and the princess, who unexpectedly remained after the departure of her brother. There was a careworn expression on her otherwise lovely features. She reminded him of his eldest daughter, Delila, who had recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday in his absence. The remembrance reminded the captain that he owed her a gift upon his next return to lands and manor. Hopefully, once this mission was complete and before taking command of the army—

  “Captain, please don’t hurt him.”

  Well, at least he was not left guessing. There was no conflict here. It seemed that Tobias was not the only member of the royal family with an affection for the Akenberger. An infatuation could have been foreseen. The poor girl would likely spend a few angst-filled nights until her attentions found a new mark.

  Just now, Gornada had not the patience to deal with childish emotions. She needed to understand there was far more at stake than her juvenile whims. “That’s entirely up to him, Princess.” He turned back to the map, putting his back to her. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

  Leti stepped toward him and grabbed his arm, tugging so that he was forced to face her again.

  He glanced down. Her grip was tighter than he expected. Far tighter, the fingernails digging painfully into his arm. Gornada looked into her eyes, seeing an intensity that was less readily dismissed. He had misjudged the situation, but now things became clearer.

  He considered her situation. Betrothed against her will to a man she had never met. A battle that her father survived only because of the prince’s timely intervention. A ceremony honoring said prince…

  Even Gornada himself had participated in the fervor of that joyous occasion. He recalled sharing a drink with the young Thane. Nicolas was a good man, so clearly ignorant of the intrigues of his scheming father. What a tremendous shame that circumstances had come to their current point.

  Prince, Swordthane, reluctant hero. He would have been a perfect match for the beautiful Asturian princess. Was it any surprise she should feel this way?

  “I like him, too, Leti. Prince Nicolas is an intelligent man. He won’t fight against impossible odds.”

  “If he does?”

  “My orders are to bring him back, My Princess.”

  “And if those orders are wrong? You know he isn’t at fault.”

  “That isn’t my place to decide.”

  “And when you do bring him back? What then?”

  “The son of King Hermann will be treated well.”

  “Like the son of Duke Iago was, this morn?”

  He had no answer for that. At last she released his arm, leaving pale white markings on his bronze skin. He disliked seeing her this way. “Your father is angry, Leti. He feels betrayed. But that will pass. We will talk sense into him. You and I, together.”

  He was pleased to see his words have a comforting effect, as an engaging smile spread across her delicate features. Irresistible features, to be honest. The young noblemen would no doubt be lining up to steal her heart from the Akenberg prince.

  Leti hopped onto her toes to squeeze him in a quick hug. “Thank you, Uncle. Bring him back safely. And yourself.”

  “Naturally.”

  Chapter One

  Asturia

  THE THREESHIELDS rode in a northwesterly direction, as they had continuously for three tiresome days. Behind them, the dust on the southeastern horizon revealed that their pursuers were getting closer. Faster than Prince Nicolas expected.

  “How are they gaining so easily?”

  “Fresh mounts,” Corporal Mickens replied from a few yards behind. “It’s the most likely explanation.”

  Nico flinched. In his exhaustion, he had not noticed the corporal riding so close. For that matter, Nico had not realized he voiced the question aloud. Sleep deprivation and fatigue combined to play disturbing tricks on the mind. This was the second time in recent days that Nico felt disconnected from normalcy. The first had been the morn of the battle that temporarily made him a hero, shortly before he became a traitor and fugitive. Or perhaps those events were one more trick of the mind, all merely a dream. It certainly seemed so now.

  The first signs of pursuit had not appeared until that morn. Before then, he had allowed himself to believe King Anton would allow the Akenberg company to depart unimpeded. Now Nico not only knew better, but realized they had little chance of winning this race. A confrontation, whether bloody or peaceful, was inevitable.

  Nico inadvertently slowed his pace to look back. His company reacted by slowing, as well. They stared at him with exhausted faces, silently pleading for rest, knowing that relief eluded them.

  At least they had gotten some sleep these past few eves. He had not, for the quiet nights were even more of a torment than the laborious days. While they rode, his mind was distracted by planning, orders, and an uncertain future. But when he closed his eyes in the dark, all he could see was a sublimely innocent face and a joyful past, lost forever.

  Mickens pulled up to ride alongside. “Commander?” He spoke quietly enough to keep their discussion personal.

  “Yes, Corporal?”

  “We need to discuss a plan,” he said disconsolately. “For when they catch us.”

  Nico nodded. He did not like the idea of making these decisions while his mind was functioning so poorly, but circumstances gave him no alternative. I don’t have a choice, he had repeated silently many times. Leti’s words were true about a lot of things.

  He stared ahead, to more of the same barren plain. Stretching endlessly, or so it appeared. He knew there was a change in the flat, desolate landscape eventually, though.

  “Corporal, do you remember the canyon we came through on the way south?”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  “How far are we, would you guess?”

  “Half a day’s ride or so. We could get there
by nightfall, if we don’t break, and if we’re not stopped first. But the canyon presents a problem of its own.”

  Indeed. He did not know whether it was an obstacle or an opportunity, but at least the feature provided an objective.

  “Let’s pick up the pace a little,” he called, spurring his mount into a gallop. He expected to hear groans behind him, but did not.

  Never a good sign when soldiers were too tired to complain.

  Westward, the sun began to set before Nico took stock again. Despite the company’s exertions, their pursuers had managed to close the distance to within a few leagues. Ahead loomed the change in the terrain that he had been looking for. The mouth of a canyon began a slow descent between rocky walls, wide enough for eight horses to ride abreast.

  The labored breathing of the destriers revealed how tired they were. Heads down, nostrils flaring, pungent froth forming around the tack—all signs that worried Nico.

  The Threeshields themselves were just as bad, if not worse. Most had not spoken for hours, and few had any water remaining in their canteens. Poor Private Rinnick, who had enjoyed barely a single night of rest for more than a tenday, appeared asleep in the saddle. And Conley, who had taken a slash at the Battle of Cormona, clutched her side as if the wound had reopened. Her balance appeared so unstable that he worried she might fall from her mount.

  “We can stop here,” he said as he tugged on the reins.

  Hoofbeats approached from behind. “Commander, with respect, this is a bad place to camp,” Mickens said.

  “Pitch tents two hundred yards inside,” Nico called out for all to hear. “Corporals, a word.”

  Once Ezra and Manus joined them, Nico asked for their thoughts without offering his own.

  It was customary for the least senior to speak first, and so Manus offered the aggressive option. “We should fight them in the open, where we can maneuver.”

  “As can they,” Nico replied.

  “True enough. But what’s the alternative? We cannot take away their strength without giving up our own.”

  “That’s why we cannot risk open battle. We know not how badly they outnumber us, but we can be certain they do.”

  Ezra cleared his throat. “Do you think of surrender, Commander? To face Asturian judgment?”

  Nico remembered Leti’s final warning. If you go, they will think that proof of your guilt. He would certainly face imprisonment or execution. But he could likely spare the lives of his company with such a decision.

  “The Threeshields do not surrender, Corporal. Not while I command. But we may find ourselves negotiating, and currently they have the position of strength. We must take it from them. Are there any suggestions to accomplish that?”

  Their silence was discouraging, but not overwhelming. Now that they were discussing the problem aloud, Nico felt his mind sharpen, his focus narrowing. The doubts and lethargy were replaced by the anticipation of combat. This was a familiar friend that had served him well in his Proving and first battle. He would rely on the feeling once again to provide some miraculous insight.

  “Ezra and Manus, see that everyone is fed and prepared for our next order. Corporal Mickens, ride with me, if you please.”

  Leading the way deeper into the canyon at a trot, Nico let his thoughts race ahead. The two of them were silent for five minutes, until the canyon widened and took a rounded turn directly north. If memory served him correctly, this stretch continued for two miles before a broad intersection. Beyond that, it narrowed and ascended to the end. They could not see the distant head from here, but Nico viewed it in his mind, closing his eyes to help the visualization.

  “Your opinion, Corporal,” he said at last. “If I were our pursuers, this would make a fine place for an ambush.”

  “Aye, Commander.”

  “If you were in command of their force—say, eighty troopers—how would you deploy for this ambush?”

  While the scarred trooper considered, Nico studied the man. A homely face, made worse by the fresh growth of hair. No time for shaving since the flight from Cormona. But there was intelligence, or at least tactical savvy, behind those dull gray eyes. That had been apparent enough during the only battle they had fought together, defending King Anton outside the walls of Cormona. Now Nico was counting on that savvy again to influence his own formulations.

  “I believe I would send two squads around,” Mickens said at last. “Keep the main force looking as large as possible, so as not to give away the plan. Just in case the young, inexperienced Akenberg—your pardons, Commander…”

  “Continue, Corporal.”

  “In case the young Akenberg prince lacks the experience to avoid the obvious ambush. Or is in too much of a hurry to care. Or—”

  “Or is too overconfident to worry,” Nico added. “That’s much as I see it.” He reflected for another moment. “If we move ahead, we are caught between the two. If we come out, their main force overwhelms us. If we stay put, we run out of supplies.”

  “Aye.”

  “All we need to do is disappear, or fly away.”

  “Aye, Commander,” Mickens laughed.

  Then it’s decided. “All right, Corporal, let us head back.”

  The end of the sunset was lovely in more ways than one. On this occasion, the scintillating colors were less meaningful than the end of daylight. Few armies risked battle at night, which afforded Nico’s company a modicum of relief. More importantly, however, maneuvers that were certain to be observed under the blazing sun could go unnoticed under cover of darkness.

  Nico was unsurprised when their pursuers bivouacked a quarter-mile from the canyon entrance. He counted the tents with a growing sense of unease. There were enough to accommodate a hundred troopers or more. He did not think that so many had survived the Battle of Cormona, but here was evidence that their ranks had been replenished in the meantime.

  Nor was he surprised to see them raise the standards of the Asturian Royal Guard, yet another shame in a growing list of them. The two units now opposing one another had so recently fought side-by-side, and the Asturians had even provided an official escort to the Threeshields after Duke Iago’s defeat.

  But there was reason for optimism, as well. Captain Gornada was that unit’s commander, and Nico knew him to be a reasonable officer. Both commanders would seek a peaceful resolution to the confrontation. Or at least the most peaceful resolution that accomplished their aims.

  The prince ducked inside his tent for a moment of rest. A moment was all he would get, and he intended to maximize every second. He stretched out on the bedroll, closed his eyes, and heard the flap of the tent open behind him.

  “Commander, you wished to see me?”

  Nico took a deep breath and sat up. “Yes, Lima, come in. I hope you’ve eaten already.”

  “Aye, Commander. Such as it was.”

  “Good. You’re in for a long night. As are we all.” He sighed, considering where to begin. “I need you to take a message to Captain Gornada.”

  Even in the dim lighting, he could see her slender frame stiffen. “What message?” she asked.

  “Tell him I am willing to parley in the morn.” She flinched in disapproval as Nico continued. “The captain and one escort only, at dawn. Sound demanding. Be belligerent. These are easy concessions for him to make, and we want him thinking about our attitude rather than what card we have up our sleeve. Is that clear?”

  Her face was in shadow, but he detected the hint of a grin. “So we have a card up our sleeve?”

  Nico was being cryptic, he knew. It was time to dump the rest of the burden on her capable shoulders. “We do. For that reason, you have one additional order to carry out. One extraordinarily dangerous order.”

  Even the shadows could not obscure the excitement in her face. One-handed, unable to fight with the others, she sought other ways to contribute to the company. He was pleased to be able to afford her just such an opportunity.

  “We’re leaving you alone, all night, to keep the fi
res going. Be seen moving between them. Laugh out loud. Ride to the entrance and back a few times.”

  “You want the Asturians to think we’re all camped here.”

  “Yes. It means leaving some of our supplies behind. Tents, standards, and the like. But we can survive for a few days without them until we reach Akenberg. I hope to be well out of the canyon before the Asturians realize.”

  “And if they already block the north?”

  “We’ll have the entire company. If the surprise doesn’t scare them off, the lack of support from their main force will.”

  Lima sniffed. “So you’re leaving me behind, then?”

  Nico was ready for the question, and wanted to convey his strength of conviction. “I wouldn’t lose you for the kingdom, Private. Keep two horses, and move out before dawn. Follow the road and ride like your life depends on it. I would not ask you to do this if I didn’t think you had the resourcefulness to escape and catch up.”

  He very much hoped he was right.

  Change of plans.

  For the third night in a row, Nico did not sleep a wink. Yet as the sun crept over the horizon far to the east of the canyon’s southern entrance, he did not feel tired in the slightest. Two things kept him energized—the remnants of battlelust, and a boiling anger.

  As light of morn illuminated the Asturian camp, Nico recounted the tents. The same number as the eve before. Based on what they had learned in the intervening hours, the Akenbergers were not the only ones up to a little deception.

  He watched two figures approaching on horseback from the Asturian camp—Captain Gornada and one other. Coming for a parley that would not happen, or at least not in the manner expected. Nico was in no mood for negotiation; he was simply of a mind to castigate and withdraw.

  It was a terrible risk to proceed with the meeting, as his corporals had warned. And not only them. Upon their unexpected return to camp, even weary Lima had expressed her displeasure at the change of orders. And when she asked the reason why, the only answer he could provide sounded hollow to his own ears. Because it’s right. As if he could know that for sure.