Arms-Commander (7 page)

The false bandits had left tracks easy enough to follow as they had headed eastward, in the general direction of Gallos and the next valley, where the roads split into those to Lornth, Gallos, and northern Lornth or Suthya. The hoofprints had all been similar, with an imprint of “G” within a square, indicating that the mounts had been shod by the same smith or farrier, most likely in the service of the Prefect of Gallos.

Even though the brigand armsmen had close to half a day's head start, as second squad continued through the afternoon at a moderate walk, Saryn could sense that the Westwind contingent was gaining ground. In late afternoon, when the white sun had dropped below the tops of the western peaks, and the road was covered in shadow, the squad neared another stream.

“Ser!” called Chyanci, one of the outriders, who had reined up at the edge of the water on the south side of the road. “Over here!”

With Adiara still seated before her, Saryn eased the big chestnut gelding toward the outrider and the stream.

Not only were there hoofprints trampled into the mud, but Chyanci leaned down and pulled a grayish cloth or rag with blood on it out of one of the scrub oaks growing on the uphill bank of the stream. “Looks like one of them was wounded, maybe pretty badly. Some of the blood hasn't hardened.”

“They can't be all that far ahead,” offered Murkassa. “How close do you think we are?”

“I'm no tracker,” Saryn admitted, “but the imprints in the mud are still crisp. That discarded wound dressing hasn't hardened. I can't sense anyone that close to us. They're more than a kay away, but I'd guess less than ten kays. They're probably going to stop near where the three roads branch in different directions.”

“What do you have in mind, ser?”

“We've pushed the mounts some,” replied Saryn. “I'd rather not press that hard. They're not going back to Gallos, and we'll take them on our terms.”

Murkassa nodded.

“I'll go ahead with the outriders to make sure that they're still headed east. I don't want us surprised, either.” Saryn eased the gelding closer to Murkassa, then said to Adiara, “You'll have to stay with the other guards.”

“I can do that, Angel.”

“Good.” Saryn lifted the girl and passed her across to the squad leader. She was still surprised at how light the girl was for her age, which had to be around eight or nine. “Find a good bivouac site somewhere along the stream here.”

“We'll take care of it, ser.”

Saryn turned the gelding. “Chyanci, Abylea!”

“Yes, ser.” The two outriders rode to join Saryn.

“We're going to scout out the road to the east.” The commander turned her mount and headed through the dip in the road where a spring rivulet ran to join the larger stream. Then she urged the mount into a fast walk along the flatter section of road on the other side. The two outriders followed her.

For the next kay, Saryn sensed only small creatures, except for a mother bear hidden away with cubs and a red deer doe. After that, as the road began to rise once more, and the snowdrifts under the tall pines got deeper, she sensed less large life. The hoofprints continued up the gradual incline, but she could see that the slow pace of the riders was slackening even more.

Still, after almost three kays, she felt that she and the other two were only slightly closer to the Gallosians. The light was fading, and she knew the road would climb for another kay before leveling out, then descending into the valley to the northeast. While she had nightsight, the others didn't. But she felt better knowing that the Gallosians weren't that close…and that their mounts were tired. She'd also have wagered that the guard mounts were in better shape. She had no doubts that her guards were.

“Hold up. We'll head back now.”

“Do you think they'll make the valley tonight?” asked Abylea.

“If they do, they'll have tired mounts. They probably plan to stay there and rest for a day. That's unless they come across more helpless travelers.” Saryn turned the gelding.

“Will we attack tomorrow?”

“That depends on what the day brings. We'll attack when we can be certain of the outcome.” Saryn's voice hardened with the last words. She didn't want a single Gallosian returning to Fenard and Arthanos.

In the twilight, the two outriders exchanged glances.

“Let's go.” Saryn urged the gelding forward, back down the road toward second squad. At least the grade was gradual enough that it wouldn't be that hard on the horses.

Even so, by the time Saryn returned to the bivouac area, twilight had given way to night across the Westhorns, and a small cookfire was burning. Saryn noted that Murkassa had found dry deadwood so that there was little smoke. Now wrapped in a blanket, Adiara hunched close to the fire.

Saryn rode over to the first tie-line where the mounts were tethered and two guards stood watch. She dismounted, unsaddled, and rubbed down the gelding before walking slowly toward the small fire.

“Any signs of them, ser?” asked Murkassa, standing as the commander approached.

“Not within about four kays.”

“There's no easy approach to us. I've posted sentries where we'll get plenty of warning.”

“We may need warning, but not from them.” Saryn took a long swallow from her water bottle. “They're trying to make the crossing valley. They'll wait there for a day or two. I don't think they even know we're following them.”

“No. Women don't track down armsmen. You'd think they'd know better after ten years,” said Murkassa.

“Why would they? We've protected travelers and routed anyone who came at us, but we haven't actually tracked and attacked anyone.”

“Wouldn't they think we might when they started to send squads to terrify travelers?”

“No,” Saryn replied. “Women in Gallos wouldn't even consider that. They have the idea that we're like the females of most species—females will protect their own and their cubs, but they won't go that far from their territory to chase a marauder.” She smiled. “We're about to change their ideas.”

At that moment, Adiara turned and looked up from the fire, her eyes wide.

Saryn could sense the mixture of feelings within the girl—sadness, anger at the death of her mother, exhaustion, but most of all, something like awe, as if she had seen a glimpse of something she had never seen before.

Fiveday dawned bright, with frost across everything, and a rime of ice on the still waters at the edge of the stream. The thin layer of slushy snow in the shade had a crunchy crust of ice on it that would soften by midmorning. All that was usual for spring on the Roof of the World, and morning duties were quickly completed, so that Saryn and second squad were riding eastward long before the sun cleared the taller peaks.

As they started up the gradual incline in the road that Saryn had scouted the night before, she turned in the saddle toward Murkassa, riding to her right. “You've got five bows. How many are good with them?”

“All, ser. I've trained everyone, but the five who carry them are as good as anyone in the guards. All of them can put the shafts through plate, sometimes at a full gallop. Zanlya can hit a moving target the size of a pearapple at fifty yards, sometimes close to a hundred.”

Westwind shafts,
thought Saryn,
with arrowheads forged by Nylan before he left.
Those arrowheads were the ones that the guards spent glasses searching for after they'd used them against brigands…or poachers. That was something on which both Ryba and Saryn agreed. The replacement arrowheads forged by Daryn, Huldran, and Ydrall were good…but not so good as those done by Nylan. Everyone knew it, and no one ever said so.

Sometimes, the guards sang the song Ayrlyn had written about Nylan, but never when Ryba was around. Saryn smiled briefly as she recalled the engineer's embarrassment at the opening lines:
Oh, Nylan was a smith, and a mighty mage was he
…She also wondered if the former comm officer had composed the song just to assure Nylan's legacy.

“How long will we be riding, Angel?” asked Adiara.

“All day,” replied Saryn. “You'll have to ride with some of the others soon.”

The girl nodded solemnly.

A glass or so later, Saryn turned the girl over to Raena, one of the junior guards, and joined the outriders. That way, she could sense any dangers as soon as possible.

For a time, Saryn and the two outriders rode silently along the high stretch of road between the evergreens and shaded snowdrifts. The air was chill enough that the only scent was the faintest hint of pine and spruce.

“Do you think they'll have attacked more travelers?” Abylea finally asked.

“I hope not. It's early in the year for travelers, except for traders, and I don't think they'd want to attack traders.” Saryn shrugged. “They might not be that smart, though. If the traders start avoiding Fenard especially, that won't make the Prefect happy.”

“But he's the one who had to have ordered the armsmen—”

“We don't know that, not yet. Besides, rulers don't always understand what happens as a result of what they order. They just think they do.” Saryn couldn't help but think about the UFA marshals who had ordered the
Winterlance
into a battle that ended up throwing the ship into another universe. There were always unintended consequences…even for those like Ryba, who could glimpse a corner of the future. Unlike the senior UFA officers, or the traders of Suthya, Ryba understood that.

By midmorning, Saryn and the outriders were leading second squad down the long and winding slope into the crossroads valley.

“There's a thin plume of smoke,” reported Chyanci. “Over there, back by the knoll on the southwest side. That's the high ground.”

“The only tracks on the road are theirs,” said Abylea.

“The only recent ones,” corrected Chyanci.

“Hold up here. They can't see us,” said Saryn. Just as important was the fact that she couldn't sense any of the Gallosians. “I need to talk to the squad leader.”

Saryn turned the big chestnut back uphill. As the commander neared the squad, Murkassa ordered a halt and rode to meet Saryn. “You've found them? How far ahead are they?”

“Another two or three kays. It looks like they're in the crossroads valley, on that knoll to the south of the roads, by the stream where most travelers camp. There aren't any other recent tracks on the road. We can ride down the road for another kay or so, but then we'll have to move into the trees and move southwest to the base of the knoll. First, we'll see where the sentries are. I'd like to take them out with the bows, without alerting the others. Then, half the squad will proceed up alongside the trail from the road to the knoll but hold short of where they're camped, far enough back so that the others aren't alerted.

“The bow-guards need to move in through the trees to the south. I'll lead them in to take out the sentries and position them. If we don't alert the main force, I'll take them to the north side of the knoll, and once we're there, they'll start loosing shafts, as silently as possible. The moment that the Gallosians recognize they're under attack, I'll sound the horn, and you sweep up the trail. As soon as you cross into the encampment, we'll come in from the trees.”

“What if they spot us first?” asked Murkassa.

“They probably won't. If they do, we'll move back to give the bow-guards chances at picking them off. Then we'll withdraw and do it again…until they either catch up, and we take them on, or they retreat, and we just keep loosing shafts and picking them off until they turn to fight. Or until they're all dead.” Saryn added, “Oh…just before you start the attack, you'll have to find a hidden spot to put Adiara. Tell her not to move. We might need every guard.”

“Yes, ser.” The squad leader nodded. “That should work.”

From what she'd seen, Saryn knew it
should,
but more often than not, “shoulds” never happened. “Call up the bow-guards. I'll take them and Chyanci. You and Abylea lead the rest of the squad after us. I'll send Chyanci back to give you the word when to split off.”

Murkassa nodded. “Bow-guards forward!”

A quarter glass later, Saryn was leading the line of guards through the evergreen woods, mostly pine with some spruce and a handful of junipers. She concentrated on sensing a clear pathway to the wooded slopes of the knoll on which the Gallosians were encamped. The going was slow as she avoided two gullies and several low and bushy pines that blocked a direct route. When she could truly sense the first armsman, she nodded. She let a half smile of relief cross her lips when she sensed the second clearly, as well as vaguely feeling the larger numbers up the knoll to the west. The first sentry was stationed under a small pine growing from between the boulders at the top of a hillock that offered a view of the crossroads. The second sentry was on the other side of the trail, slightly farther downhill, and positioned to watch the western road to Lornth. Although the two were about a hundred yards apart, and within earshot of each other, neither could see the other.

“Quiet riding,” ordered Saryn.

After easing the chestnut through half a kay of pines, sometimes through snow close to half a yard deep, she reined up, then motioned for Zanlya, the lead bow-guard, to join her.

“The sentry is about a hundred yards ahead, at the same level on the slope as we are, but he'll be to your right once we come up on him, under a pine looking down on the valley.” Saryn pointed through the pines in the direction of the northernmost Gallosian sentry. “I want him taken out without a sound. Let the others know, then have Chyanci pass the word to the squad leader to have her hold up until we head back this way.”

Zanlya nodded.

Once Zanlya had passed the word, Saryn eased her mount forward, slowly. Covering the last fifty yards or so seemed to take longer than had the previous half kay through the pines.

Finally, she reined up and gestured to Zanlya for the bow-guards to move into positions where all could loose shafts at once. The wind was light, but it was blowing from the northeast, and that wasn't good. Not when there was the faintest snuffle or muted whinny from the sentry's mount, tied to a smaller pine lower on the slope to his south, and between him and the short trail leading from the road to the encampment.

The Gallosian stood and eased forward from where he had been sitting on a boulder. From there he scanned the area to the northeast, where the three rough roads met. He was still looking when the first shaft took him in the back of the shoulder. Another took him lower in the back, and he staggered.

“Oh…”

Two more shafts struck him, one in the neck, and he slumped forward.

Saryn
thought
his muted cry had not carried, but she concentrated on sensing the second sentry, across the trail to the south. When the other sentry did not show any alarm, she urged the gelding forward, along the lower north side of the knoll, then through the trees just below the first sentry's position until she and the bow-guards were almost at the edge of the trees bordering the trail, just a few yards higher than the second sentry.

He was pacing back and forth along a narrow space above the lower bushes and trees that grew out of a charred area, possibly a campfire that had gotten out of hand years earlier.

Zanlya glanced to Saryn, raising her eyebrows, and gesturing.

Saryn understood. The sentry was some fifty yards away. Still, there was no way to get closer without breaking cover. “Go ahead.”

Zanlya waited until the sentry was pacing back in their direction before saying, “Fire.” Her words were just loud enough for the other four to hear, and the hiss of five shafts being released at once was softer than the rustle of wind through the needles of the pines.

Only one struck the sentry directly, but it slammed through him just below the breastbone. A second lodged in his arm. In the moments when he looked around, his mouth opening to call a warning, three more shafts struck. He staggered, then slowly sank from sight.

Saryn could sense his pain. While he was dying, and would not be able to warn the others, he would not die quickly. She pushed that thought aside. The women who had been abused had not died quickly, either.

“This way,” she ordered quietly.

The five bow-guards followed her back the way they had come, then westward along the side of the knoll. Murkassa rode out from between two massive pine trunks, then halted.

Saryn reined up for a moment just yards from the squad leader. “The sentries are down. We need to hurry. Take up a position on the trail. When you hear the horn, ride up and sweep through. We'll stop firing before you enter the encampment.”

“Yes, ser.”

As Saryn flicked the reins to urge the gelding forward, she could feel her head throbbing from all the concentration on sensing where people and weapons were. After the long winter, she was definitely out of practice. Tracking game wasn't the same thing, even through frigid snows. As almost an afterthought, she leaned back and slipped the small trumpet-like horn from the saddlebag and tucked it inside her riding jacket.

After riding another hundred yards, she could sense clearly the Gallosians scattered around the encampment ahead and to her right. Most were gathered to the south side, roughly in the middle, but they were not in any sort of formation.

She turned in the saddle again. “Zanlya…we're getting close. When I stop, take positions in a line abreast right at the edge of the trees. The clearing will be on our right. Silent signal. Once I drop my arm, loose shafts. Make every shaft count, but use every one.”

The lead bow-guard nodded.

Saryn slowed the gelding to a slow walk through the thin layer of slushy snow, easing him closer and closer to the edge of the pines, but at an angle so that the six of them would not be close to being able to be seen until they were in position to loose shafts. She was also counting on the thickness of the overhead canopy to keep them in deep shadow.

The trees ended less than twenty yards from the northern edge of the encampment. Most of the armsmen were gathered near one of the fires, listening to a taller man. All the Gallosians were looking in his direction and away from the trees on the north side.

A few words drifted out to Saryn, words that only she could hear, and only because of the heightened senses that had come when she had found herself on the Roof of the World. Nylan had claimed that all the officers had gained various strange abilities because they had used the
Winterlance
's neuralnet. Saryn didn't know the reasons, but at times like these she was glad enough for them.

“…take the northwest road in the morning…halfway to Middlevale…”

Saryn eased the gelding partly behind the trunk of one of the giant pines and positioned him so that she could ride directly into the camp when the time came. Then she waited.

Zanlya raised her arm.

Saryn raised hers, then dropped it.

Shafts hissed from out of the woods.

For several moments, nothing happened, even after shafts cut into and through several of the armsmen.

“The bitch-demons!”

“To arms! Every man to arms!”

“Mount up!”

Saryn lifted the trumpet and bugled out an off-key call. The only thing useful about it was that the sound was loud, loud enough to carry to the trail to the west of the encampment.

An armsman jumped from the fire and turned, then grabbed his blade and charged toward the trees and the bow-guards. A shaft took him right in the chest.

The bow-guards kept loosing shaft after shaft, enough that the Gallosians sprinted toward the southwestern edge of the encampment, where the horses were picketed on a tie-line. The clustering of men provided an even better target for the archers.

The rumbling of hoofs signaled the arrival of the rest of second squad.

“Cease fire!” snapped Saryn. “Stow bows. Blades out. With me.”

She urged the chestnut forward, one of her three short swords in her right hand.

One Gallosian had managed to mount and had his big blade out as he charged her.

Saryn flung her blade, sense-guiding it into his chest, then pulled her second blade into play, running down a lagging Gallosian and slicing down across the side of his neck.