Screaming horses raced past. Blood spattered everywhere, turning the grass black. Smoke filled the sky. The sun was red like blood and sitting low on the eastern horizon, cradled in a stony pass she knew well from scouting trips.
"Dawn,” she gasped. Andrixine blinked hard to clear her eyes of the vision as the blade's light dimmed. “Sendorland attacks at dawn. We must stop them here, or not at all.” She turned to the king, unashamed of the tears in her eyes. Her head ached, echoing the pained thumping of her heart.
"To arms,” King Rafnar said, standing. No one but Andrixine's own warriors moved.
"Why do you hesitate?” Commander Caleen shouted from halfway down the room. She stood and saluted Andrixine. “The Sword Bearer has spoken!"
* * * *
"YOU ARE ANGRY,” Brother Klee said.
"I don't have time to be angry.” Kalsan tested the point on the spearhead he had just sharpened. He flinched and sucked on the new bleeding pinprick in his thumb.
"You have been miserable since you returned with the king.” The holy man sat on the bench facing Kalsan and reached for another whetstone and a waiting sword.
"Did the sword show you that?” Kalsan flinched when his voice echoed around the stone room. It had once been a creamery, before Snowy Mount expanded and the dairy moved elsewhere. The room had most recently been used for training Andrixine back to health, and now Jultar had taken it over as a weapons room.
"I don't need the sword, merely strong eyes and concern for those around me.” Brother Klee delicately wiped the whetstone along the blade three times before speaking again. “Andrixine told me what happened."
"Did she tell you I nearly let her get raped?” he growled, then hissed when the spearhead shifted in his grip.
"That isn't how she sees it."
"My lady is too generous. I was useless."
"You were outnumbered."
"Vorberon is a bully. I should have known he wouldn't try anything without someone to back his hand."
"You did very well, incapacitating two of four strong men in a very unfair fight."
"While Vorberon put his hands on my wife!” Kalsan flung down the spearhead. “If he had managed—"
"He didn't."
"I wanted to kill him just for frightening her."
"Isn't that rather drastic?"
"She is my life!” Kalsan caught his breath, hearing his voice echo around the room. “Just the thought of her being hurt tears into me worse than a sword. If she—she is my life,” he repeated, fading to a whisper. “I hate that sword because it takes her into battle."
"The sword protects her and heals her."
"She'll be in danger the rest of her life. I'll spend my life protecting her, worrying about assassins and getting separated from her in battle and...” He shook his head. “I don't know how to explain this terror I feel for her."
"You love her,” Brother Klee said, a faint smile quirking the corners of his mouth.
"I've loved her since before I met her.” Kalsan slumped on the bench. “I dreamed of her before we met. She ruined me for all the sweethearts I had made along the way. I knew I had to find her. And then I found out Drixus was Andrixine, and I needed her—I wanted her.” He shrugged, a lopsided grin only making him look more miserable. “I love her. What perfect timing. I'm too much a coward to tell her I love her now, after this afternoon."
"Only brave men can speak of love?"
"Love is rare."
"Then it should be nurtured, not hidden from the light.” Brother Klee finished sharpening the sword and slid it into its scabbard. “Tell her. Now. Before she rides into battle and you spend the whole of it regretting not speaking to her,” he said with teasing exasperation. He gestured at the door. When Kalsan hesitated, he leaned forward and yanked him to his feet. “Go!"
Feeling foolish but relieved, Kalsan bolted. He ran to the main hall, down the many branching passageways to the guest wing. His imagination gave him speed, and he pictured how he would tell her.
He would take her into his arms and kiss her breathless. He would tell her on a whisper, then repeat it, kissing her between each word, until he saw the belief in her eyes.
Two Sword Sisters in full armor, spears in their hands, blocked the door to the room he and Andrixine shared. Neither were among the Sword Sisters who attended Andrixine at the wedding. Kalsan felt a chill as he approached down the long hall. Neither woman looked at him. He felt like a spirit, unseen and unheard—or worse, something below their notice. They had watched Andrixine with devotion fire in their eyes from the moment their three units were presented to her in the courtyard. He hadn't cared then, but now it bothered him.
"No one goes in,” the tawny-skinned woman on the right said, when Kalsan reached for the doorknob.
"This is my room.” He smiled to cut any embarrassment she might feel at her mistake.
"No one goes in,” her partner repeated, black eyes gleaming through her helmet. Her spear shaft flashed out, rapping Kalsan's hand when he grasped the doorknob. Her dusky skin reminded him of a particularly nasty cat his sisters favored.
"This is the Sword Bearer's room, and no one enters,” the first said.
"The Sword Bearer is my wife.” He tried to make his tone calm and reasonable despite his stinging knuckles. What did it take for these women to understand?
"She confers in private with the commanders,” the catty one said. Her eyes sparkled in malice.
"She doesn't keep secrets from me.” Kalsan reached for the doorknob again. When she tried to crack his knuckles a second time, he was ready and yanked the spear from her hands.
"You'll do no better with a spear,” the tawny one said, laughter threatening in her voice.
"Leave, little boy,” the cat crooned and rested her hand on her sword. “The Bearer doesn't need you. This afternoon proved that well enough."
Something shriveled inside Kalsan. Did the whole army know about his miserable showing? He felt like he had as a little boy, when the village bullies had taunted him. He couldn't fight because they outnumbered him and his tongue wasn't quick enough to return their insults.
"We are here to serve the Bearer and guard her honor and body. We see to her needs. We dispose of useless equipment to save her the bother,” she continued, her voice cracking.
She laughed and took a step closer to Kalsan. He held his ground and refused to raise a hand. She wanted an excuse to strike him down, he realized. One wrong move from him, and she could strike and claim self-defense. Andrixine might not believe—but would he be alive to know that?
Kalsan stood straight and struggled to stop the cold fury building in his chest from reaching his voice. “I doubt she knows your plans or your chosen duties."
"What you think doesn't matter, little boy."
"You will let me through to speak with my wife."
"You have no right to order us,” Tawny said, a chuckle making her voice rich.
"I have to earn the right?” Kalsan gestured down the hall. “Then we'll go to the courtyard and prove who is more worthy—in a fair fight,” he couldn't resist adding. The catty woman flinched at the implied insult.
"I can beat you easily with half the weapons you'll need,” she growled. “Lissan!” She glared as her partner stepped back and pounded on the door.
It opened two seconds later, while the three in the hall glared at each other. Commander Caleen was a tall, gray-haired woman in leathers with the flame insignia of an Oathbound commander on the collar of her shirt.
"Why do you disturb us, Lissan?” she asked, her voice mellow—and threatening with its very pleasantness.
"This man claims he is the Bearer's husband and has the right to enter,” Lissan, the tawny one said.
Caleen looked Kalsan up and down, her eyes pausing on the spear still clutched in his hand. She glanced over at the catty woman, noted her missing spear, and her gaze lingered on her angry face.
"My Lady, there is a problem,” the commander said, stepping back int
o the room. She closed the door.
"Kalsan?” Andrixine flung the door open a few seconds later. She looked puzzled when she saw the guards at her door. “Why are you two here?"
"Lissan and Darsa are part of your honor guard,” Caleen said. “I told them to let no one disturb our conference."
"But I need my husband here.” She shook her head with a little sigh of exasperation. “Kalsan is my partner. He—he is my eyes, my voice where I cannot be."
"I tried to tell them,” Kalsan couldn't resist saying. He stepped up to the door and paused long enough to hand the spear back to Darsa. She glared at him.
"Sisters.” Andrixine took a step out the door so she could see both guards. Her gaze fastened on Darsa. “My husband is never to be denied my presence, is that understood?"
"Yes, Bearer,” Lissan said. Her partner flushed and nodded but said nothing.
Kalsan felt a tiny shiver of apprehension when the door closed. He was inside and his opponents outside, but he still felt their gaze piercing his body, sharp with dislike.
The next hour went too quickly. Andrixine and Kalsan acquainted both Sword Sister commanders with the landscape around Snowy Mount, the maps made by their scouts in the last few days, the weak points in the defenses, places where the enemy could sneak through. They tallied the warriors’ skills and talents and decided where they would be best placed.
From there they went on to meet with the king for one final conference before heading out into the night. The pass in Andrixine's vision split into two after several hundred yards. She would lead the Sword Sisters in defense of one, and the king would take charge of the other. Between them, Sendorland would be halted and forced back.
Kalsan never had a moment alone with Andrixine. He refused to speak the words that burned on his lips while others were near enough to hear.
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Chapter Twenty-One
A FINE MIST FILLED the night air, obscuring what moonlight filtered through the shifting clouds over the mountain range. Andrixine shivered and pulled her cloak closer. Absently, her fingers stroked the embroidered edges, reading in the darkness the flame-sword-leaf emblem of Sword Sister Supreme Commander. She had been awed and flustered when Jeshra and Caleen had presented her with the full regalia—cloak, trousers, shirt, mail shirt and leggings, metal-bound boots, gauntlets and crested helmet. She remembered the naive days when she longed to be a simple warrior among the Sword Sisters. She had tasted battle, watched men bleed to death or die with their heads half-hacked from their shoulders. She didn't want to be party to anyone losing their lives this coming day. Wearing the clothes and armor of the Sword Sisters laid a claim on her, made her responsible for each woman injured or killed that day. She wished she could vomit and ease her churning stomach.
Andrixine stood on a ridge, looking down the rocky pass where Sendorland troops would spill through at dawn. Commander Caleen stood next to her, waiting and watchful. Somewhere in that darkness, navigating by faint moonlight, Kalsan and Commander Jeshra and one hundred Sword Sisters found hiding places to lay an ambush and block the retreat of the Sendorland forces, while more Sword Sisters plunged down and trapped them in a pincer move.
She wished Kalsan stood with her on the ridge, sharing warmth and a few last moments before battle called them. She shivered more, remembering that moment in the doorway to their room, seeing the hatred in her guards’ eyes toward her husband.
"A problem, my Lady?” Caleen asked. She had an enviable talent for speaking so quietly only the person next to her heard.
Behind them, Derek slept undisturbed, propped up against a rock, Andrixine's banner draped over him like a blanket. She knew her brother would be heartily ashamed at falling asleep during the watch, but she knew he needed his sleep if he was to stay alert and alive during the battle. What had ever made her soften and grant her brother's request to ride to war with her?
"No. Yes,” she corrected. She would feel better doing something, no matter how petty. “Those two at my door."
"Lissan and Darsa."
"I don't want them there."
"I admit it is superfluous, posting guards in a house of holy folk.” A touch of humor made her voice warm. “And ... you are newly married."
"Besides that.” Andrixine felt her face warm. She hadn't even considered the loss of privacy. “They are hostile to my husband. I won't permit that."
"If you will permit me, Lady—"
"That's another problem. If we're to work together, I'd much prefer you use my name.” Andrixine was relieved to see the older woman smile.
"Thank you, Andrixine.” She nodded. “There are several things you should know, which would explain Lissan and Darsa, and others like them. We heard your marriage was hurried and for convenience. To fulfill your duties as heir, to provide you the closest possible guard to your honor and person.” She paused.
"It was, but only at the start. My husband was my oath-friend before he asked me."
"Asked?” Caleen shook her head, negating the request for more details. “Jeshra's chapter house is filled mostly by noble daughters who come to the Sword Sisters because they want to serve, because they hear Yomnian's call. The chapter house I command in Cereston is filled mostly by common-born. Many come to us to escape marriages that are thin excuses for slavery. They don't have the options and training of we noble daughters. They marry to escape unhappy homes or to take the burden off their parents, and the men they marry take advantage of that. Many come to us escaping husbands who see them as tools, animals who need their spirits broken. Or, they have grown up seeing their mothers and aunts and sisters abused and want nothing to do with marriage. The Sword Sisters provide refuge and a place where they feel valued. We were ... distraught to think the Sword Bearer was trapped in an unwanted marriage."
"They hate Kalsan because of their own pain,” she whispered.
"Our advocates at court could help free you,” Caleen offered.
"I made my vows to Yomnian, as well as to Kalsan. I am learning if I put Yomnian's will first, everything necessary for my happiness will be provided. Caleen, I am very happy in my marriage,” Andrixine said, putting emphasis on each word.
"I understand."
"Please make sure that anyone who feels as those two feel also understands.” She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled with more than the mist soaking through her cloak, slicking her hair, filling her lungs with damp. “If you must, tell every Sister that anyone who attacks my husband attacks me."
"That is rather drastic."
"They'll be drastically punished if they do anything to harm Kalsan. Yes, my marriage was compulsory, but I am happy. My life has been a whirlwind since the sword chose me, but Kalsan is my center of calm. If anything happened to him...” She wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself. “How soon until morning?"
"Not long."
Andrixine nodded and turned to stare into the misty dark plain spreading below her feet. Somewhere out there, Kalsan worked his way into position for attack. She needed his arms around her, needed to know he was safe. He had suffered no more than bruises in the first battle. Andrixine knew she would feel in her own body every cut, every broken bone he suffered.
* * * *
IN THE MIDDLE of the churning sea of charging horses and flashing, slashing swords, Andrixine knew the exact moment the Sendorland soldiers realized women warriors faced them. It was almost a collective gasp of horror. The din of battle continued, but there was a sense of silence, of pulling back. The men of Sendorland were trained to consider women weak, undisciplined, immoral and easily broken—yet these women warriors had already cut a bloody swath through their ranks. Sendorland soldiers were trained from the day they entered the military to a fine edge of terror at the thought of a woman wielding a sword. What paralysis took them when over three hundred women warriors battered at them with arrow, spear and sword?
The retreat began piecemeal. She saw one man turn and run—or try to, hemmed in on
all sides. The woman he had been trying to brain with a battleaxe shoved down into him with her spear, taking him high in the chest. He crumpled, suspended half-erect in death with the spear stuck in the ground. Andrixine turned away, nauseated more by the feral battle lust clear in the woman's eyes than by the way she killed.
Some soldiers went berserk, battering, hacking and stabbing at anything moving within sight. They endangered their fellow soldiers. More than once Andrixine saw Sendorland soldiers take down one of their own, purely in self-defense. She tried to believe they had brought it on themselves with their superstition and repression, but it still chilled her.
The Sword Sisters moved forward, gathering momentum. They forced the Sendorland soldiers backwards through the pass they had entered at dawn, leaving a trail of bloody, broken bodies.
Kalsan had vanished, Andrixine realized with a choking sense of panic. He fought his way to her side when she came charging down into the pass, and he had led his troops up behind Sendorland in ambush. He stayed within reach, fighting behind and beside and before her as the sun slowly crawled to zenith. More than a dozen times she turned, hearing a sword whistle as it arched toward her, and saw Kalsan intercept the blade with his own, following up with a stab of his long knife. Each time he made sure the man was dead, then turned quickly to find her. Each time, the light in his eyes changed from battle sternness to worry to relief in a heartbeat. His smile had been as brief and sweet as a parting kiss. With a salute to her, he turned back to the battle. It had never truly separated them until now.
How long had he been gone? She nearly didn't see the foot soldier leap at Grennel's stirrups. Andrixine kicked, but it was too late. She slashed down with the Spirit Sword. It blazed and the man opened his mouth to shriek mortal terror—the sound cut off before it began. Grennel snorted and darted forward, lashing out with his hooves, taking down another enemy before the man could see them coming.
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