Prince of Bryanae

by Jeffrey Getzin

  Don-Lan scanned the page, and then pointed with his finger at a U-shaped formation of rock on the map. “Here.”

  “A canyon. Where are the soldiers and the Queen?”

  Don-Lan’s shaking finger indicated the inside of the u, near the base.

  Willow sighed. Of course. “And I take it the Kards have blocked the opening, and are firing down from the sides?”

  “Yes,” Don-Lan said, “with sp-spears.”

  “Imbeciles!” Willow said.

  Don-Lan opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. “Not you. The soldiers: they couldn’t have chosen a worse place to be attacked. They’re surrounded and cut off from escape. How many Kard soldiers did you see?”

  Don-Lan shook his head. “It was dark. At least fifty or so.”

  Fifty!

  “And how many Kard leaders did you see?”

  “F-f-four. Probably more.”

  “Four?” she mused. “Why so many?”

  Don-Lan shook his head, struggling for words.

  “Never mind. The question was rhetorical.” She indicated the map. “Put this in some kind of case. You’re coming with us.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “You have only two tasks on this mission: stay alive and be able to locate us on this map at any time. Do you understand your duties, soldier?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Good,” said Willow with a slap on his shoulder. “Very good. Find the case and be at the assembly point in five minutes.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Don-Lan sprinted from the room.

  Willow ordered the remaining elves into the hall to wait for Pree-Var-Us and his men. Already she could hear the nervous mumblings of inexperienced troops there.

  This was going to be extremely difficult.

  “Snyde,” she whispered. “What in the name of all the hells have you gotten us into?”

  Chapter 37

  “Something’s wrong,” Tamlevar said, glancing back over his shoulder at the motley band of elves that followed.

  “You’ve just figured this out,” Willow said.

  The grassy plain stretched out in all directions as though some god had tired of painting and just filled in the rest of the landscape with green. Only the gray lumps of the hill ranges in the distance broke up the monotonous greenness.

  “You don’t trust them,” Tamlevar said.

  Willow regarded him for a moment, and then looked ahead without a word. They would have to enter the hills at some location. The question was which one?

  “You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?” he said. “About Snyde and the rest.”

  Her smile was contemptuous and dry.

  “You’re mistaken. I’m not angry with you. I have no feelings for you one way or the other.”

  “Ouch,” said Tamlevar. “I guess I deserve that.”

  Willow did not respond. Already her legs were tired, and she had only been walking for a few hours. A body was such a frail instrument. So much work to keep it properly honed.

  She glanced up at the blue sky and white clouds. The sun had already passed its noon apex and was comfortably settling towards the horizon. It would be well after dusk when they would arrive.

  Would Snyde and his soldiers still be alive then?

  She noted with a wry smile that no thought for her mother’s safety entered into her concerns. Tee-Ri was playing a hand that she herself had dealt. If she lost the game, Willow would not shed a single tear.

  “Look,” Tamlevar said. “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t want anything from you at all. Other than to be a soldier, that is.” Inside her, cold rage still seethed when she contemplated how Tamlevar had attempted to trade her body for a place to hide.

  “Can you at least tell me why you don’t trust the elves? What have they done to deserve your mistrust? If they hadn’t intervened, you be dead.”

  “Uh huh. And how did you happen to find them? A bit of a coincidence, don’t you think: you running from the Kards and happening upon their secret underground lair?”

  He shook his head in protest. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Really.”

  “Really. It wasn’t.” He folded his arms neatly across his chest. He had his sleeves rolled up and his biceps bulged.

  Willow kept walking. She had more important concerns right now than whether the elves were to be trusted. She would have to deal with them soon, one way or another, but that problem could wait.

  “Ber-Ote led me there,” Tamlevar said.

  “Ber-Ote?”

  “Yes, Ber-Ote. He said he knew you.”

  She nodded. She had almost murdered him in her delirium. Then his mother had said horrid things about him in front of her. And still he had saved her. A pang of unfamiliar guilt stuck her in her gut.

  “Yes, I know him. His mother was my tutor when I was young. Her husband was an engineer who worked for my father.”

  “ ‘Her husband.’ Not ‘his father?’ ”

  “No, Klen-Aeous was killed early in the conflict.”

  Tamlevar nodded. “I see.”

  “To answer your unspoken question, Ber-Ote’s father was human.”

  “Rape?” His voice had fallen to barely more than a whisper.

  “Probably. Or in exchange for favors. She must have been extremely unlucky. Elven women are only fertile for a few days every fifty years or so.”

  Tamlevar snorted. “‘Unlucky.’ ”

  Willow sighed. She had forgotten that Tamlevar was himself of mixed race. Still, he was a soldier, and soldiers needed to have discipline enough not to take everything as a personal affront.

  She looked back at the elven rabble. They had fallen even further behind—she had in fact almost lost sight of them—and they were stumbling to keep up as well as they were.

  “We’re going to have to stop for a rest soon. They’ll be exhausted by the time we reach the canyon. They’ll be in no condition for fighting. Not that they’re going to be a great help as they are. But that won’t stop me.”

  “Oh no,” Tamlevar said. “A fire-breathing dragon couldn’t stop you. I can’t imagine anything that could.”

  “I’ll stop soon enough,” she said feeling much older than her years. “In fact, I suspect that it won’t be long now.”

  Chapter 38

  At the base of the first set of hills, Willow addressed what passed for her platoon. True to her prediction, dusk had already come. If her estimates remained to the true, they’d arrive at the battle only a few hours before midnight. They’d have the cover of darkness, which was good, but they’d also be lumbering about in the dark, which was bad.

  “From now on,” she said, “silence is critical. There could be patrols or lookouts anywhere in these hills. None of you is to speak above a whisper except in an emergency, and it had better be an emergency.”

  Her eyes surveyed her troops. An even dozen of men-children, armed with staves, spears, or clubs. She fixed each of them in turn with her steely gaze.

  “This,” she said, holding up a flat hand vertically, “means stop.”

  She tilted her hand horizontally. “This means get down.”

  Once more, her hand was vertical. She spread her fingers. “This means spread-out, and this”—she made a fist—“means resume formation.

  “You are to stay low whenever possible. You are to keep your weapons sheathed and remove any jewelry so that there are no telltale glints in the moonlight. If you encounter an enemy unexpectedly, act quickly, and kill him as silently as possible. A knife thrust to the kidney is best, but if you’re not sure you can do that, clap your hand around his mouth and cut his throat, making sure to get under the chin.”

  Her voice remained level, and her eyes remained neutral, as though she were imparting a recipe for macaroons.

  “From what Pree-Var-Us has been telling me, you have almost no combat experience. That’s all right. You have to start somewhere. Just remember to follow my ord
ers without question.

  “Discipline is absolutely critical. This is your first, last, and only warning: failure to maintain discipline or obey one of my orders will result in severe punishment. You want to be soldiers, fine. You want my help rescuing your queen; that’s fine too. But you’ll do it my way. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Tamlevar said in a sharp whisper. The elves mumbled their assent, their expressions solemn.

  Willow shook her head. “I repeat, do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” This time, most of the elves had followed Tamlevar’s example.

  “Better,” Willow said. “You two”—she pointed at the two elves who had not responded appropriately—“Go home.”

  The two looked at each other, at Pree-Var-Us, and then back to Willow.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “For whatever reason, you didn’t catch on. Now is not the time to teach you to think. Go home.”

  They didn’t move, looked to Pree-Var-Us again.

  “Go home now, or I’ll have Tamlevar break your arms.”

  Tamlevar’s cheeks puffed in outrage, but he did not contradict her. The two elves turned and began the exhausting journey back to the underground lair.

  “The rest of you show promise,” she said. “Now, I’m going to scout ahead, and I need a volunteer to come with me. Pree-Var-Us, you’re that volunteer.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said.

  “What about me?” Tamlevar said. “Can I come with you?”

  “No, I want you to stay in charge of the others while I’m gone. Make sure everybody stays quiet. Explain basic marching and combat to them. Nothing fancy. You have a half-hour to teach them the basics.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” She saw the hurt in his eyes, and dismissed it. This was a military rescue mission, and not an afternoon picnic. Tamlevar would have to just swallow his pride.

  “Let’s go,” she said. She started her ascent of the shallow rocky incline.

  Chapter 39

  She had three reasons for bringing Pree-Var-Us.

  First, she needed his eyes. An elf could see in near-total darkness about as well as a human could see immediately after nightfall.

  She needed an elf, then, which led her to her second reason. She needed an elf, and Pree-Var-Us was the only elf of the bunch who had so far shown any strength, resolve, or above all else, discipline. If she had to bring an elf, he was the one for the job.

  And the third reason? She didn’t trust him and she wanted to keep him close.

  * * *

  As they neared the crest of the hill, Willow motioned Pree-Var-Us to lower himself to the ground. He went prone instantly and remained motionless; one point in his favor.

  She flattened herself against the cool earth, and inched up the remaining distance until her eyes peeked over the top. From there, she saw the canyon spread out below her, looking almost exactly as it had appeared on Don-Lan’s map. Nothing moved. No soldiers, no barbarians. Nothing.

  She clenched her eyelids and then relaxed them, trying to optimize the performance of her eyes. It was crucial that she make an accurate assessment of the situation. With a force as small and as untrained as hers, the slightest error could be extremely costly.

  Far to their right was the opening of the canyon, and as she suspected, it had been blocked by a rockslide. The resulting structure made the canyon vaguely bowl-shaped, and remarkably similar to an arena. A great place for the spectators. Not so great for the entertainment.

  Dozens of spears were scattered across the arena. A few arrows, too, if her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. Presumably, the arrows were fired by the leaders, and the spears thrown by the warriors.

  She spotted many makeshift bulwarks, constructed from loose stones and brush. Beside most of them were corpses wearing the uniform of the King’s Guard.

  She tried to determine if Snyde were among the dead, but not even her eyes could make out the features of men from that distance. So much for the defenders. What about the attackers?

  Her eyes scanned the rim of the bowl, and she noted four scattered campfires burning low in the darkness. Around them, she could just make out the movement of figures.

  She ducked down below the ridge.

  Of course. She had been stupid. The defenders wouldn’t be able to see, true, but neither could the attackers. The battle had been postponed until dawn. She’d have to do something about that.

  Willow turned to face Pree-Var-Us when suddenly his eyes grew wide and he pointed at the ridge again. A moment later, she heard it too. The crunch of shifting rocks. A man’s respiration. Someone was climbing the other face of the hill, directly towards Willow.

  Her heart began to pound, and she couldn’t move her limbs.

  Not again, she thought. I won’t allow this!

  She wasn’t afraid of the Kards. Not any longer. She had fought them outside of Mar-Ra’s hut and she had killed several of them. She wouldn’t let them dominate her with fear any longer.

  And yet she couldn’t move, and whoever it was grew closer.

  Dammit! Discipline.

  She noted with some satisfaction that her hand moved to the knife at her belt, but a loud crunch petrified it before she even made contact.

  An enormous hand crested the ridge, a mere stone’s throw from her. Willow inhaled sharply, and then mentally cursed her fear. Had he heard her?

  Regardless, another hand joined it, and then she heard boots scrabbling for purchase in the loose rocks.

  A head appeared, huge, hairy, and savage. Willow’s eyes widened, and her lips trembled.

  Control yourself, woman!

  Her shaking hand closed around the knife, drew it from its sheath.

  Now, stand up!

  She did, rising into a tiny crouch, certain that the Kard would hear her or see her as plainly as she saw him. Just how much better were her eyes than his?

  The Kard stood in the dim moonlight, appearing to be a giant to her. How could she bring herself to confront such an invincible foe? How could she dare even face it?

  Let’s find out, shall we?

  Still crouching, she began to duck-walk up the slope towards the Kard, waiting several seconds after each footstep before taking another. Below her, Pree-Var-Us remained motionless. Smart.

  Could Pree-Var-Us sense her fear, her cowardice? Was it obvious to him? Would word of her failure destroy her reputation among the elves, the only army she had left to command?

  She refused to be made a subject of pity and ridicule. She took another step. The Kard spread his arms wide and growled. Had he seen her? No. Then what in the name of the icy inferno was he doing?

  She took another step. As she did, the Kard brought his hands to his loincloth and fumbled at the fabric. A few seconds later, she heard the splatter of urine against the rocks.

  Unbelievable, thought Willow. This type of thing only seemed to happen to her.

  The Kard lifted his head to gaze contentedly up at the stars, which was as good an invitation as she was likely to get.

  Now! Move!

  Her legs didn’t move.

  Move now, or admit that you’re not a soldier and never were!

  That did it. She felt a galvanizing energy pour into her legs. She sprang from her squatting position.

  A puzzled grunt was the Kard’s first and last statement on the incident. She jabbed her knee into his back and yanked his head back by his greasy hair. The Kard opened his mouth to scream, his hand lunged for his axe.

  He never completed either of these actions. He clutched at his throat as he gurgled and choked on his own blood. Willow held him against her knee, off-balance as he died. After a few seconds, his struggles ebbed, and a minute later, they had ceased altogether.

  Willow eased him to the ground without a sound.

  Pree-Var-Us was by her side moments later. She didn’t even turn to look at him. She wiped her knife on the dead Kard’s loincloth.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

&nbs
p; “A lot better than he is,” she said, successfully keeping the tremble out of her voice.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  Willow glanced at him in annoyance. “Quiet. I’m trying to think.”

  What to do? They might only have minutes before the Kard’s disappearance would be noticed, thereby destroying any element of surprise they had. Damn it, that had been their only advantage.

  Fifty or more of the Kard warrior caste and at least four leaders. She shuddered. As much as the warriors frightened her, she at least could face them; had done so before. But the leaders … that was something else entirely.

  No, she wouldn’t be able to face the leaders.

  Then what? What could they do to maintain the advantage of surprise?

  Whatever they did, it would have to be soon. If only she could get her clumsy brain to formulate a—

  “Waeh-Loh?” Pree-Var-Us’s high-pitched whisper once more destroyed her concentration.

  “I said be quiet.”

  “But, I really think—”

  She whipped around to face him, scrambled forward, and stuck her face inches from his.

  “Don’t you challenge my authority,” she hissed. “When I give an order, you are to fol—”

  Challenge.

  Pree-Var-Us looked perplexed at her abrupt cut-off. He opened his mouth to speak, but evidently thought better of it and shut it again.

  Challenge. That might work. That might just work.

  Fifty Kard warriors, but she’d only need one. And the leaders wouldn’t be involved. No, they couldn’t be. It’d be a matter of face. And if she succeeded …!

  “Pree-Var-Us, do the Kards still have that challenge ritual? What do you call it, the Kurruk-Mah?”

  Pree-Var-Us gasped. “You’re joking. You’re going to challenge one of the leaders?”

  “No!” Willow said, and then cursed the vehemence in her voice. “No. One of the warriors.”

  Pree-Var-Us’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Oh,” he said. “You had me worried. No, the term is Kurruk-Mah for the leaders. For the warriors, it’s Kurruk-Meh.”