by Kal Spriggs
“We can't go that way,”Aerion said sharply. It would be too easy to get caught up in that brawl.
Aramer shook his head, “We've no choice, I smell the smoke now, it's coming from back that way, I think,” he pointed back the way they had come. “Fire behind and fighting ahead.”
Kerrel Flamehair drew her sword, “Well, let's be at it,” she said.
They waded in, and Aerion ducked under a sword stroke from a mercenary, then caught the man and slammed him hard enough into the wall that he went limp in his arms. He saw Kerrel parry a spear thrust from one man and then smash him in the face with her gauntlet. Beyond her, Aramer had cleared more space and wrenched open a door. “This way!”
Aerion saw Kerrel turn to face him and in that moment, he saw Covle Darkbit step out of the crowd. “Behind you!” he shouted, but she turned too late.
Darkbit thrust forward with a dagger and Kerrel Flamehair's eyes went wide as the dagger punched through the back of her armor. Darkbit gave him a smirk and before Aerion could leap after him, he drew back into the brawl and a pair of Hector's mercenaries charged through the gap. “Arren!” Aerion called, “She's down!”
He saw his friend turn in his direction, but he lost him as the two mercenaries closed. One swung an ax strike at him and Aerion discarded any idea of not fighting for his life as the ax whistled through the air in front of his face. He shrugged his shield onto his arm even as he blocked a spear thrust with his sword.
The axeman stepped forward to swing again and Aerion leapt forward in a lunge. His sword punched through the man's breastplate and as Aerion stepped back, the mercenary stumbled back, fingering the smoking hole as it spurted blood. Aerion didn't see the other man fall, for his companion stepped in with a series of thrusts that kept Aerion backing away. The man screamed something at him, his lips drawn back in a snarl, but Aerion couldn't understand his words. Aerions back hit the wall and he had nowhere to move as the spearman thrust again. The point turned on his armor and Aerion gave silent thanks to Jasper as he stepped in and struck his attacker's head from his shoulders.
As the corpse tumbled to the ground, Aerion looked up to see the corridor was empty of life. Only Aramer remained, stooped over the body of Kerrel Flamehair. Aerion's heart caught in his throat, for though he disliked her, he knew how much was riding on her peace talks with Katarina. “Is she...”
Aramer looked up, his face grim. He pulled off his floppy brimmed hat and then his beard and wig. “She's dying. There's not much that I can do. The dagger has some kind of venom or something, a poison I can't fight.” He looked down at her, “Her only hope is that I get her back to her company, she'll have a real healer, maybe someone who can stop it.”
Aerion frowned as Aramer pulled off his uniform top and then ripped the tunic off of a dead mercenary. “What are you doing? You can't go there, we'll be at war again, now, they broke the truce!”
Aramer shook his head, even as he smeared blood on his face, “Doesn't matter. Get to your company, clear these bastards out and secure the Ryftguard. Guard that sword with your life.”
Aerion shook his head, “But they'll kill you.”
Aramer gave him a grim smile, “You let me worry about that. Now go!”
He picked up Kerrel and stumbled away with her in his arms. Aerion swore savagely as he watched his friend leave. Finally, though, he turned away and ran towards the sound of fighting.
***
Commander Covle Darkbit
Covle swore as the mounted men stood in his way. “Damn you, we need to attack, while there's still a chance!”
Their leader glared at him, “We'll wait for Commander Flamehair's orders. She said, no matter what, to keep the peace. So you don't attack.”
“Damn you,” Covle snapped, “I told you, I saw those bastards stick her in the back. She's dead, I saw her die.” Yet he saw his words had no effect on the mounted men. Covle looked at Rasev Ironhelm behind him, who gave a shrug. He was halfway tempted to order the man to attack anyway, but they'd lose too much time if that were the case. Already he could hear the sounds of combat dying off. As it was, Katarina's forces had proven dangerously capable, he'd lost almost all of his escort on the way out and Grel had stumbled out by himself and covered in wounds a few minutes later.
“Fine,” Covle snapped, “But if we aren't going to hit them before they hit us, we are going to withdraw before they spring some other trap.” He looked back at Rasev Ironhelm, “Ready the men, we're leaving.” Covle looked past the riders at the face of the East Gate. The sinking sun had painted it's walls blood red, a fitting tribute to the blood shed there already. Soon it would be dark, but Covle didn't fear the dark. That would make their withdrawal easier.
He looked at the Flamebrands, but they stood silent and unmoving. Covle remembered the surge of power he felt when he'd plunged the dagger in Flamehair's back and he had to hide a cruel smile. Let them stay, he thought spitefully, they can be our rearguard and take the brunt of the rebel's response. The irony pleased him, that the idealistic Flamehair's people would be the ones to take the punishment for his own deeds.
He spun away and waved for one of his guards to bring up his horse. He might not have retaken the Ryftguard, but he had done enough tonight. Lets see those rebel bastards even think about making peace with Hector when he hears what I have to tell him, he thought with glee.
***
Aramer Jameson
“Halt!” a voice called out from ahead of him in the darkness.
Aramer stumbled under the weight of Kerrel and her armor, “I'm a friend, I've brought Commander Flamehair, she's wounded!” It had taken him far too long to slip out of the hidden sally port under the East Gate and he had felt Kerrel grow weaker in his arms as that time went on.
Torches flared ahead of him and then a dozen men hurried forward. Aramer recognized Kerrel's cousin, Jonal, as the young man led the way, concern plain on his features. “How bad?”
“Poison,” Aramer said, “I've done what I could, but I'm not a skilled healer.”
“Get her back to the tent,” Jonal snapped. Four men came forward with a stretcher.
“A tent won't be enough,” Aramer said. “Do you have a healer?”
Jonal shook his head, “We haven't had one for months, we used one of Lord Hector's.” He looked momentarily at a loss for words.
Aramer bit back a snarl of impatience, for it felt like when he had failed Moira, only now it was her sister dying in front of him. “You'll have to get her to a healer or better yet, a mage. Does Hector have any here in the south?” He heard the desperation in his voice and he felt his hands tremble a bit with worry. Keep yourself together, he thought harshly.
Jonal's eyes went suddenly hard and he focused on Aramer. “Who are you? Why are you wearing Hector's colors, asking a question like that?”
Suddenly, Aramer faced three men with drawn blades. He held up his hands, “I've told you before, I'm a friend. I served with Lady Rachel Ingail...”
“No time for talk,” a voice said nearby. A moment later, Aramer recognized the sound of the gates opening. Damn, he thought, they're coming out to see who is out here. “We'll have to withdraw. We can put her in Miss Kail's carriage.”
Aramer nodded, “Yes, that would be best...”
He trailed off as the big man advanced. “I don't know who you are, and we haven't time for questions,” he said. The big man nodded at someone behind Aramer.
Aramer tensed, suddenly aware of just how exposed he had become. “Look, friend, I–”
He felt a sharp impact at the back of his head and stumbled to his knees. He reached back and felt hot blood run down over his hands. That hurts, he thought absently. Yet there was a sense of relief as the ground came up to meet him. This way, at least, he wouldn't have to face failure again.
***
Commander Covle Darkbit
“How is it, again, Commander, that you and your escort were in armor when this all started?” Rasev Ironhelm asked as they ro
de along at the head of the the column. Thankfully, Aoria was overhead and cast enough light that the broad road was easy enough to follow.
“I told you,” Covle snapped, “I heard a shout down the hall and I ordered them to ready themselves and got ready myself. I don't know why I even answer these questions...” he trailed off and looked over at Captain Ironhelm. The mercenary was as solid and capable as anyone could ask, Covle knew, but he also had his damned pride. If he thought he and his men had been used as pawns to sabotage the truce, then he might well take that information to Lord Hector.
Rasev's face was unreadable in the stark shadows from Aoria. Covle made a mental note to keep an eye on him. Be a shame to have to kill him, he thought absently, he's one of the few men I trust to do what they are paid to do, with no questions asked.
His thoughts were interrupted as one of the scouts rode back, “Captain, there's a camp of some kind ahead!”
“Whose men?” Covle demanded. The rebels hadn't had time to get ahead of them and all of his companies should be back in the positions to which he had ordered them. If any of those bastards came south, he thought, and left one of the towns exposed...
“He won't be able to to tell that in the dark, now would he?” Rasev asked sarcastically. He waved an arm at the scout, “Can we get past them?”
“Yes, sir, looks like they're camped in the high ground. We can move past them, they'll know we're there, but we'll have time to get past before they can do anything, if we hurry,” the scout said.
“Fine,” Covle grunted, “Best to get past them quickly, just in case.” He looked over his shoulder, “We don't want to get pinned in this valley.”
“There's paths out and around,” Rasev said quietly. “We'd have to leave most of our wagons and supplies, but we could make it out. Have to leave some people behind, I'd imagine.” His look back at where Grel's company marched was a pointed statement of who he would prefer to leave.
“No,” Covle said quickly, “We're not leaving anyone behind. Best to get moving, and quick.”
He frowned though, as another rider came up to them, “Sir,” the man said, “Rearguard reports that there's riders behind them. They sent up a messenger, it's the Flamebrands.”
“Oh, so they decided they didn't want to be left alone in the dark, did they?” Covle grated, “Fucking cowards.” Still, he could make use of the company of heavy cavalry, particularly if they had come to accept that their commander was dead.
Rasev waved at the scout, “What else?”
“They said that they've got Commander Flamehair, that she's injured, but alive. They also asked if we can send back our healer to help out,” the scout said.
“That's impossible!” Covle said sharply, “I... I saw her fall!” He almost blurted out that he had stabbed her himself, but he caught himself just in time. That for certain would have Rasev going to Lord Hector.
“Well, it seems she's still alive,” Rasev said, “Perhaps you should have made more certain of her.” The tone of his voice was dry enough that Covle couldn't tell if he was suggesting that Covle should have finished her off or not. “Sergeant, get our healer back there to help out. None of our wounded need his attention right now anyway.”
Covle grimaced, “Captain Grel was wounded...”
“Captain Grel can drink piss,” Rasev snapped. “Excuse me Commander, but this whole business stinks. I've served with Grel and I've served with Kerrel. I've seen these rebels, too, and they sure seemed to want peace. So tell me, what's more likely, that Grel started a fight and then you figured you'd finish it or that the rebels waited for you to don your armor before they tried to storm your rooms?”
Covle didn't answer. He wasn't certain what to say, for the mercenary had guessed far too close to the truth for Covle's liking.
“Now I don't care if we fight a war or not here in Masov. I've shed blood in all the Five Duchies. But I'll be damned if I let a good woman like Flamehair bleed out because you're a petulant ass,” Rasev said. “So, either you let me do what I think is best, or I'll have to think real hard about what I'm going to do with you here in the middle of my troop and the Flamebrands behind Grel's company with me in the front.”
Covle shivered a bit at that. He knew he could take Rasev, but his men could probably take him down with numbers quickly enough. “Of course, Rasev,” Covle waved a hand impatiently, “I wasn't suggesting you not treat Commander Flamehair, I was merely noting that perhaps Grel could use your services as well.”
“Right,” Rasev said. “I'd say something polite back, but right now I'm trying to get us out of this mess that you and your buddy Grel got us into. So let me work.”
***
Lady Katarina Emberhill
The Ryftguard, Duchy of Masov
5th of Namak, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Katarina leaned against the conference table and wiped the tears from her eyes. She had experienced loss before, but the news that Arren Smith was dead hit her hard. I knew it could happen to any of us, she thought, but it happened so suddenly and things were going so well.
“You're certain?” she asked.
Sergeant Moren nodded, “As certain as we can be, my Lady. He was last seen in the gatehouse, and that's where those bastards stared the fire. We've found some remains, but some of the bodies are burned past recognition, even the metal of their weapons is melted and deformed.”
Kerrel looked away at that. It seemed that Hectors men had attacked the gatehouse and started a fire there, both as a distraction from their other attacks and possibly to allow them to attack with all their forces. Thankfully, they hadn't managed to open the gates, which meant that they had been forced to withdraw when Katarina's people finally got things under control and readied a counterattack. I'll kill every one of those bastards, she thought, especially Grel and Darkbit. She found it hard to believe that Commander Flamehair had any part in the attack, yet her very absence was a sign that she must have at least suspected it.
She looked around at her advisers, and of them all, Aerion seemed the most distraught. He almost looked as if he wanted to speak, but he remained silent. Arren was like a father to him, she thought sadly, this has to have hit him hard.
“Well,” Katarina said. “This attack has made one thing clear. Even if Hector was willing to negotiate in good faith, his men are not to be trusted.” She looked over at Gerlin, “Thank you, Gerlin for keeping Miss Kail safe. I'm glad you got her back to my quarters, who knows what could have happened to her in the fighting.” It was the presence of Halyna Kail that cast doubt on Hector's involvement in the attack. Not even Katarina thought that Hector was cold enough to knowingly risk his mother's life in such a rash move. She looked over at Samen, “Captain Samen, I'm putting you in charge of the Ryftguard, and I'm giving you free rein to continue recruiting your company up to battalion strength. I'm also naming you Commander of the Ryftguard.”
She saw the archer stand taller at that. The rank was normally reserved for the most trusted military officers, often those who served with distinction. She looked around the table until her eyes fell on her next target, “Lord Jack, ready your three companies, you'll march with us. Captain Swordbreaker and Captain Arren... that is, Senior Sergeant Moren, your companies will join us.”
She looked around the table and saw resolution fill their faces. “Those bastards did everything they could to start a war, including breaking the truce. I think it's time we give them what they want... only we'll make them regret it.”
There was a grumble of angry assent at that and Katarina nodded. “Right, then, prepare your forces. Quartermaster Solis, I want to see reports...”
The doorway opened, “My Lady, sorry to interrupt,” the sergeant said. “We've just got news from the scouts, there's an army approaching, at least four companies, with a mix of foot and cavalry.”
Katarina blinked at that. “Very well.” She looked around at the others, but no one seemed to have an explanation. It seemed absurd that Darkbit would return wi
th merely one more company to support him. For that matter, why would he withdraw if that were the case? Yet who else could it be, but more of Hector's men?
She finally just shook her head, “Well, you all know your battle positions. Get too it, and let us show whoever it is that we're a force to be reckoned with.”
***
Katarina studied the formation that stood outside the walls. At their front was a banner of a black eagle on a white field, similar but also starkly different from her own house's white eagle on a red field or Lord Hector's black hawk on a yellow field.
“Earl Joric of Olsztyn,” Jarek said softly. He gave her a slight smirk as she nodded thanks, “Don't worry if you didn't recognize the crest, I barely keep them all straight myself.”
She felt a rush of warmth towards him, similar to what she felt for Aerion, but different at the same time. Jarek was noble born. They'd spent cycles together and even after so long apart, it felt natural to fall into the same relationship they had as children. Yet she felt something more for him, and for just a moment, she could imagine herself in a wedding dress standing with him, hand in hand.
The moment passed though and she cleared her throat and waved at the small army, “Why are they here, do you think?” The force had formed up, but, if it was Lord Joris, he had yet to send forth an emissary. It was almost as if he wanted to draw out the suspense, a thought she didn't entirely discount.
“No idea,” Jarek said with another cheerful smile. “He's a pompous ass, or that's what my father would mutter about him after every time he had to deal with him.” He shrugged, then, “I expect we'll find out soon enough.”
Katarina nodded at that, though she wished she knew more about Lord Joris. She knew that his lands, and Olsztyn Castle, were far east, in the Olsztyn Peaks. She vaguely remembered that he had mines of some kind and foundries as well, but more than that she couldn't remember. A glance at Bulmor showed that, despite his emotionless mask, her armsman was worried. He's the one who taught me the most about the nobility of Masov, she thought, suddenly suspicious, yet he never mentioned much about Olsztyn, now that I think about it.