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.”
1
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.”
<
br /> 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 pardon, 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 fires 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.
Forcing his anger down and his breathing steady, Nico walked into the midst of his own bivouac. A few of the soldiers looked at him, curiously or expectantly, as he moved among them, looking for one who was as angry as himself.
Never as garrulous as the other twin, Pim had withdrawn further into himself since his brother Mip’s death in a field hospital after the Battle of Cormona. And so he was alone now as the commander approached. Not inattentive to duty, however, and he straightened as Nico motioned toward the crossbow stowed on his destrier.
“Corporal Ezra tells me you are the best in his squadron with that weapon. Is this true?”
“Aye, Commander.”
“Show me.”
A look of confusion passed over Pim’s sad face.
“Quickly, Private.”
The youth hurriedly pulled the crossbow from its strap and loaded a bolt, then glanced at the narrow sunbeam entering the canyon’s mouth. “There,” he said. “See the rattlesnake on the flat rock yonder?”
“What snake?” Nico asked.
For a response, the crossbow fired with a
loud twang. Nico watched as the bolt splintered into several pieces on a large rock in the distance, as did the small crowd that had quickly gathered around the exhibition. One trooper, a red-haired veteran named Mira, was already on horseback and headed toward the point of impact. She twisted in the saddle until horizontal, reached down, and lifted a long thin object from the sunlit stone. The snake’s body continued to coil and writhe in her hand as she returned with it.
Nico admonished her. “By Theus, Private Mira, please put down that snake before it strikes you.”
She smirked. “It’s headless.” She held the twitching body up.
Proof enough that Pim was capable, but did he have steel in him? Enough for Nico to entrust his life?
“Private Pim, I need someone to keep watch during the parley. I believed they were honorable, but after last night I don’t know what to expect. Tell me true, are you up to it?”
The twin sneered. “Let them try something.”
There is the steel I was looking for. Perhaps more than I wanted.
“Corporal Manus, you will wait for my signal. Private Pim, come.” Nico mounted smoothly and set off for the entrance at a trot, eager to get this unpleasantness over with.
Gornada was already waiting, still on horseback, at the mouth of the canyon. So was his companion, the Swordthane Zenza, a particularly arrogant and hostile rival of Nico’s. As the two Akenbergers approached, the captain took several paces forward. Nico nodded for Pim to stop, then proceeded alone until ten yards from his counterpart.
“A pleasure to see you again, Prince Nicolas.”
Nico raised his hand, palm out, putting an end to the formalities. He felt the inner rage building up again, and fought to control his emotions.
“Spare me the empty words, Captain, and I’ll do you the same service. I’m not here to negotiate, nor to list grievances, of which there are many. Consider this meeting a courtesy that I already regret.”
“Prince Nicolas, you are in no position to behave—”
“Your numbers are not nearly so overwhelming as you pretend, Captain, nor your position as advantageous as you believe. We depart as soon as this parley is concluded. If you follow us, prepare for a battle that you can ill afford.”
Empire Asunder BoxSet Page 25