The general ate and drank with fine gusto, and was regaling the landlord with a tale about outsmarting his chief guild rival—all made up, of course—when the front door banged open and another party, all well into their own cups, clattered into the room. The landlord rushed over to greet them. Three were women, underdressed for the cool night with high-necked silk blouses and flowing skirts. They appeared to be professionals of that most ancient of guilds. Aetria mentally dismissed the fashionably dressed men as fops with too much time on their hands.
One buxom woman walked to the head of the large table and sat down, surveying the rowdy crowd as they sprawled into available chairs and benches, bellowing out orders to the landlord. She turned her attention to the leader of the party, a tall, thin middle-aged man with perfumed hair and shifty eyes. The seductive gaze she cast at him was as raw as her painted lips, rouged cheeks, and heavily shadowed eyes could convey.
Sonja stared at the woman with disgust but growing curiosity. What was this crew doing in a plain roadside tavern? She glanced over at the sorceress. Aetria's eyes were almost closed. A gentle tap of Sonja's tankard on the table startled Aetria awake, and she followed the sergeant's eyes back to the whore. At first glance, Aetria thought the woman looked familiar.
"Do you sense anything, Aetria?"
"No, should I? Let me rest, then I'll try again later."
"Something is wrong with this situation. Something about that woman bothers me."
Aetria looked again, but sensed nothing. If you were the type that liked your woman painted with hair teased out like a lion's mane and breasts the size of melons, then perhaps you would find a woman like her appealing. The general certainly seemed to think so.
"No accounting for some men's tastes! But there is no spell, although she certainly needs one."
Sonja sat up straight. “We've got to get out of here."
The general casually glanced around, as if surveying the other women in the room for a night's dalliance. He gave the men hard stares and the women leers, and reached for a full tankard of ale.
He spoke to his escort in a low voice. “Our way out the front door is completely blocked off. I'm going out the front window while you escape through the kitchen. If we get split up, well, it's been fun, ladies."
Before Borlock could protest, Mythrian rose to his feet and staggered toward the woman at the head of the table. As he approached, the woman turned her head, her protruding Adam's apple shifting upward as she swallowed preparatory to uttering some pithy remark. Aetria and Sonja simultaneously drew in a breath of surprise. The seasoned sergeant recovered first and leaped to her feet. “Alenso, she's a—"
The general hauled the woman up by the front of her well-filled blouse and planted a beery kiss on her protesting lips.
"He! It's Adept Pleates,” Aetria finished. Mythrian roared with laughter at the gagging sounds made by the woman/man and took a pull on his tankard of ale, still holding tightly onto the violently struggling man whose blouse tore open. Breast-sized melons dropped to the floor. Mythrian tossed the man against the fireplace and turned, crashing his tankard down upon the leader of the “fops,” crushing his skull. He then dove for the window.
As Sonja started around the table toward Alenso to keep his back clear, Pleates whipped out a wicked little knife and threw it at her. With a cry of pain, Sonja grabbed the handle of the knife protruding from the leather armor above her right breast and pulled it free. Aetria paused for a moment of anguished hesitation, spent looking between her superior Adept and the sergeant, then let fly her own dagger. She watched in satisfaction as Crusher sagged to the floor, her knife through his Adam's apple. Aetria flipped the table over at two advancing assassins, grabbed Sonja by the arm, and dragged her toward the kitchen.
The two fled through the door, knocking aside the maidservant who rushed in to find out what the commotion was about. Sonja glanced over her shoulder, and her heart seemed to twist inside, as she saw Mythrian hauled back through the window, knives plunging into his body. The mortally wounded giant of a man, with an assassin cutting his throat from behind, had two more assassins by the backs of their necks and, as his blood sprayed across the room, smashed their heads together. The grin on his face was as wide as the one across his throat as he sank dead in a pile of bodies. Sonja and Aetria fled into the night, the heavy underbrush swallowing them up and hushing the sounds of their departure.
* * * *
Aetria entered the bath tent and dropped her robe at the edge of the large tub sunk into the ground. Sonja's head was visible just above the surface of the steaming water, her eyes closed. As Aetria entered the water, Sonja sat up, exposing the tops of her breasts.
"I see the Healer has sutured your wound, Sergeant. If we have any more days, you must tell me about those other scars."
"What makes you think our days are numbered, Sorceress?"
As she sank beneath the hot, soothing water, Aetria found a bench-like rim along the bottom of the tub and settled down on it. She rubbed her face with the water, both to clean it and brush away the tears that had started again. She did not take failure easily.
"The last day has been a complete blur. I remember little or nothing since fleeing the inn. I know we ran through the forest for what seemed like an eternity. I dimly remember crashing into a horse and rider. I awoke once in a pitching, rocking wagon, and a few minutes ago was rudely rousted from a very soft sleeping pallet and told to get my butt in here, get bathed, and prepare to receive the king's justice."
"A reasonable account of what happened. Your eternity was only a half-hour or so. The rider was the lead scout of a cavalry patrol. I told the patrol commander about the assassins and she rode off with her platoon to try to capture them. She left behind the scout, who took us to their squadron headquarters. They provided transport to the king's encampment. His Majesty was quite unhappy about the death of Alenso. They were very close friends."
"Do you think he will have us thrown out of the army for failing in our mission?” Aetria asked.
Sonja answered with a noncommittal shrug. Aetria sat soaking in the healing steam of the tub. Minutes passed before Aetria had to ask the questions raging in her mind. “I can understand being punished for our failure to keep the general alive, but I would like to know why he took this risky journey in the first place."
Sonja handed her a sponge and a bowl of liquid soap. “I owe you the answers to your questions on the trail. But before I tell you what I know, please tell me what your orders were."
Lathering up, watching with satisfaction as the dirt disappeared from her body, Aetria filled in the sergeant. “Pleates called me in and told me I was assigned to a secret mission, of which I could tell no one anything. I was to dress myself in the supplied soldier's uniform, meet the general and his personal bodyguard at the crossroads north of our billet, and escort them to where they were going. Although of officer rank, I was to consider myself under orders to the bodyguard sergeant and do exactly as she ordered."
Sonja took the sponge and soap from Aetria and indicated the younger woman was to turn around so her back could be cleaned. Aetria did so and then continued her tale. “At that point I was thinking Pleates had been standing too close to a source."
The grunt from behind her caused Aetria to turn around slightly. Sonja was looking at her with a quizzical expression.
"Sorry, that's our way of saying someone is not operating at full mental capacity. Exposing one's self to a source too long does that to you."
"I'll try to remember that, Sorceress. You are a refreshing source of information about sorcerers."
"As I was saying, being ordered to take orders from a lower ranking soldier was definitely abnormal, let alone taking orders from a non-sorcerer. I was given no voice in the matter, being told to keep quiet and listen. Like a good soldier, I obeyed. He handed me his own source, saying I might need it. That was decidedly strange because we are not allowed individual sources until reaching Adept level. I tried to give hi
m back the source, saying I probably would not be able to use it, but he insisted I take it."
"That is very interesting, Aetria. It might explain something I will share with you in a moment."
Sonja repositioned herself in her seat, letting Aetria rinse off. As she did, Sonja said, “The king is a wonderful man, a fair and just ruler."
"That I sincerely hope!"
"As do I, Sorceress, as do I. He is a fine leader, but not much of a military strategist. The king's forces here are badly needed to spearhead an offensive that is hoped to turn the tide of the war. The king is not up to that task. The general was needed here to lead his troops. So, get the general to the king."
"Makes sense."
"The general saw an opportunity to solve a problem that had been plaguing the army. There was evidence of a spy within the general's staff. The spy, who we now know was Pleates, had alerted the Hermanians that the general was going to visit the king. Pleates didn't know why, but knew the trip was necessary. The Hermanians pre-positioned scout troops to locate him, but to prevent disclosing that they knew our plans, they had not made any attempts to gather an appreciable intercepting force, waiting until they saw movement on our part. Our agents caught wind of the reason for their patrol movement and alerted the general that he had a spy problem."
Aetria ducked her head underwater to get her hair wet, exploding to the surface with a gasp at the heat that surged through her tingling scalp. “Forgive my interruption, Sergeant, but these inter-weaving high strategy matters are a little above my level of interest."
Sonja smiled. “When you have had to stand in a room full of generals and listen to it for hours, as I have, then you can say that. Stay with me for a few more minutes, Sorceress."
"Well, I did ask."
"When word came to the general that the king's men were in position and ready to attack, awaiting their leader, he acted. Rather than try to make the trip with a sizable escort, he believed he stood a much better chance evading their patrols with a minimal party consisting of the two of us. To draw off the expected pursuit, he planned to dress the commander of his Royal Guard cavalry squadron, Commander Preldones, in his general's gold armor and send the squadron riding north. He told no one of his plans until the very last minute, which would—"
Aetria finished for her. “Put the spy in a position where he would have to expose himself to convey that information."
"Exactly. The general had just finished dictating the orders for the fake escort when Pleates came forward and suggested to the general that the services of a sorcerer were needed on the fake escort. The size of the ‘fake’ escort could draw a response from the enemy, and it wouldn't hurt to have the army's ‘most potent weapon’ along—himself, by the way. He also insisted sending his best Illusionist with our party would enhance our deception. Not knowing he was the spy, and because the Adept's suggestion did make sense, the general approved it."
"Me, his best Illusionist? I'm flattered."
"Pleates had, in fact, set us up. He ... Well, don't take this too hard—"
"Wanted me there instead of someone with control. Added insurance that things would go wrong,” Aetria cut in, a bitter edge in her voice.
"You are awfully hard on yourself, Sorceress. I wonder if your ‘lack of control’ is directly connected to your lack of confidence. You were under a lot of stress when you created that phantom squadron, and it truly was a thing to behold."
"Someday I'll explain the spell-making process to you, then you can stop wondering."
Sonja smiled sweetly, a very odd expression for such a hardened soldier. “Thank you, I would like that. Now that you know the why, the second ruse—"
"I was wondering where that came in."
"As I said, our intelligence had their patrol areas fairly well located, so our intended track would avoid them. Our run-in with the bandits was totally unexpected, although the timing was perfect."
"The timing was perfect? You just said it was unexpected!"
"Your exposing our position was also unexpected, but as it was, we had pre-planned that two days out from the front lines an alarm was to be spread that the general was in danger and a rescue party formed. The rescue troops would rush north. The enemy would now be forced to find our party before the rescuing troop, so would commit maximum resources to do so. The general wanted to draw as many troops as possible from the enemy lines, even commit their reserves if that was possible. Between the fake escort and the rescue party, we had a sizable force formed and ready for a quick strike once we knew the enemy had committed his reserves."
Aetria, although finished washing, was reluctant to leave the soaking warmth of the bath. She had a few more questions, but the king was waiting. She heaved herself out of the tub and, dripping water, walked to the towel rack. As she dried off, Sonja emerged from the tub and did the same.
"Sounds like a wonderful plan, but one that went wrong in the end,” Aetria said. “Pleates apparently broke away from the fake escort, found himself some Hermanian assassins, and raced north to catch up with us. How he tracked us, I am not sure."
Sonja wrapped a towel around herself. “I was hoping you could tell me that. My guess is, Pleates was somehow able to track his own personalized source, which was probably the point of giving it to you in the first place. You would have drawn the traitor to us."
"I don't know anything about personalized sources, Sergeant, but your theory has merit. Pleates was an Adept. And he did show up at the inn. Since he was well-known to both of us, he disguised himself as a woman to get into a position where he could kill the general. Which he did, accomplishing his mission, thanks to me."
"And accomplishing half of the general's mission, ridding the command staff of an enemy infiltrator, thanks to your excellently thrown knife. Oh! Almost forgot. The patrol reached the tavern and found Alenso's body, but there was no sign of the assassins, their dead, or Pleates’ body. They must have taken it with them. They are still searching for the assassins, but I think the Hermanians got away safely,” Sonja added from behind the curtains of her adjacent sleeping area.
A sorcerer's uniform of flowing red robes was draped over a chair near the towel rack, no plain soldier's armor in sight. Aetria felt almost strange dressing in her normal uniform, after spending the week in leather and steel. “Why would they take Pleates’ body with them?"
"Probably so we could not make a public spectacle of his body to embarrass the Hermanians. This way they could say we are trying to cover his desertion by making false accusations about his spying for them,” Sonja said over the clink of metal as she put her armor on. “The Hermanians risked all to get the general. They have lost a very valuable spy. They have unbalanced their forces and made their position very vulnerable. They will be paying a very stiff price for their errors. It is time to meet the king."
Aetria followed the voice out of the tent and into the bright midday sun. She stood blinking for a few moments, trying to adjust her eyes. The glare was magnified by the reflection from the general's highly polished gold armor. The hand that steadied her arm was not huge and hairy, but small. Aetria realized with a shock that Sonja was the one in the armor. “But..."
Sonja led Aetria toward the king's pavilion. “The commander of the Lancers was Alenso. I was, in fact, his sergeant, but the one who saw the opportunity and led the charge. I credited him with the victory because five years ago there was no chance a woman would rise to command an army. I have stayed in the shadows, commanding through him. The king knew, of course, and with his support, I was able to make changes in the army, and today I take my rightful place. I want you by my side, today and in the future. You made that decision when you stood by me at the inn. We need to work closer, the grunt and the sorcerer. I trust we can do that, Sorceress."
"Yes, Ma'am, General, I believe we can!"
CHAPTER 7
"Your request for a Sorcerer Guard escort has been disapproved."
Aetria stared angrily at the small, thin Adept Prov
isioner, and wondered if Cemaron understood what he had just said. Until a few weeks ago, Cemaron had been the commander of the king's sorcerer regiment, a rule-bound, administrative commissary who had advanced through the ranks by being able to meet the needs of the king above the needs of his troops.
With the death of Pleates, and the two armies now combined after the stunning success of General Borlock's last battle, he was left the senior sorcerer and elevated to Pleates’ position. He might have the king's ear, but he still worked for the general.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I am on the general's business. She wants me to travel to Inhestia, and I need an escort."
Cemaron was standing next to Aetria. She was much taller than he was, and she could tell he was not comfortable having to look up to her. He walked slowly around to the chair behind his desk and sat down. He picked up a scroll and tapped its end lightly on the hard, wood surface of the desk.
"I remind you, Sorceress Aetria, that the Sorcerer Guard is under direct command of me, the Sorcerer Commander, and as such, does not fall under the control of the general. You, on the other hand, are not under my command which is a clear violation of the Council's agreement with the king. This order from the general"—Cemaron waved the scroll at her—"makes you her Chief Advisor, a position which is not described in any agreement, and conflicts with my role as the primary advisor of things magical to the general."
Frustrated with dealing with the man, Aetria reminded herself that technically he was right, and that she had to deal with someone who had a history of resisting change, of any kind. “General Borlock specifically states in her order that my job does not supplant your position as Advisor of Spell Warfare."
"True, true, it says that, Sorceress, but everyone on the staff knows that she turns to you for advice about the use of Power,” the little Adept pointed out to her crossly.
She made a point back to him. “And she also turns to me for advice on things having nothing to do with the Power. The engineers don't—"
Wild Sorceress Page 14