Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (19 page)

Sasha rounded the corner into the stable yards, and found two men already ahorse, wheeling circles to keep six Kazeri at bay. She raced into them without pausing, faked a swing at one to buy a rider time, then dropped to slide long in the dirt and take another's leg in passing. Another Kazeri was wrestling with a horse's reins, the horse's head between himself and the rider, as one more circled to take the rider's flank…. Sasha rushed that man, fake-stepped and cut him through the middle. The first Kazeri abandoned the horse's reins and retreated, only to be slashed from behind by the second rider. Another Kazeri fell to Rhillian's fast-arriving blade, and the remaining two fled.

“Big force of horses coming down on us!” Sasha told the riders—Kiel and Arendelle, she now registered.

“We'll distract them,” said Kiel, and kicked his horse's sides to gallop onto the road. Arendelle nocked an arrow to his bowstring as Sasha and Rhillian raced into the stables. Some cavalrymen were there, saddling fast, but Sasha knew there was no time for it.

“Get as many as you can and ride along the river!” she shouted, untethering her own horse and leaping astride bareback. “There's too many coming, you have to run!”

“If we're separated head for Ilduur!” Rhillian added, leaping astride her own horse.

“Rhillian, you stay and escort,” Sasha retorted, grasping a handful of mane. “You're no rider bareback!”

She galloped off, tearing into the street, having no confidence that Rhillian would listen. Townsfolk were on the road now, with lanterns, torches, and weapons. Sasha galloped, sword in hand, and realised that she herself was not the equal of good cavalrymen in combat, however superior her horsemanship. Bareback, she was useless.

Ahead, dimly lit by torchlight, she could see Kiel's and Arendelle's horses on the road. Both men were firing arrow after arrow into oncoming cavalry, felling several as those behind swerved. The serrin turned their horses and retreated, twisting in their saddles to fire backward as only serrin knew how, felling more pursuers. Kazeri cavalry dodged, and several collided, finding such accuracy in the dark disconcerting.

Sasha saw a chance and tore past the serrin, cutting across the road and onto a grassy verge, Kazeri startling in astonishment as she galloped by. She did not bother to swing at them, but headed for the first side road, turned with a yank of her animal's mane, and galloped on. Looking over her shoulder, she found at least five chasing her. But here away from the main road there were few sources of light, only a dull outline of winding road between squat houses.

She took the next turn, determined to get back to the temple. She nearly hit a tree, her horse startling in fear and trying to slow, head tossing and disliking running at this speed in the dark even more than she did. Sasha kicked desperately as the hooves behind came closer still.

Suddenly there were village folk with lanterns ahead at the intersection of two roads. In that spill of light, a horse stood silhouetted, and astride it, a serrin aimed his bow directly at her. It was Kiel. For a brief moment, she recalled the deck of the ship in Petrodor Harbour, Kiel's bow drawn, his arrow aimed for her heart, only missing because Errollyn took the arrow himself. Now he fired, and once more the arrow streaked straight for her, with terrifying precision. Sasha ducked, but the arrow was aimed two hands from her ear, and buzzed like an angry wasp.

Behind her, a Kazeri toppled from the saddle. Kiel drew again and dropped a second. Sasha pulled her horse to a halt, as behind her the remaining Kazeri also halted, confronted with the terror of serrin archery for perhaps the first time in their lives. Kiel drew a third time, and they fled. Kiel placed that arrow between the last man's shoulder blades with a satisfying thud.

“Follow me,” said Kiel, and wheeled his horse. Sasha followed. He galloped between small houses and little groups of frightened, running townsfolk, many with weapons. Toward the main road, Sasha saw large fires beginning to burn, and heard the sounds of fighting. It was big. Staying in town was not an option, and leaving would likely serve the villagers best also, assuming the Kazeri were after their guests and not the village itself.

Kiel led them clattering down a side lane, then through an open paddock gate, past a farmhouse and barking dogs. Soon they reached the tree line and the foot of the hills. There they paused, briefly, and stared back toward the town. Still the bell clanged, and fires burned high into the night. Sasha could hear no more intense fighting, only the occasional yell, and the endless barking of dogs. Whether that was because all the townsfolk were dead, or the Kazeri had abandoned town in pursuit of their main quarry, she did not know. Neither possibility appealed.

“Probably fortunate they attack at night,” said Kiel. “Horse tracks are easy to follow by day, but not for humans at night. Now we can make ground and not be followed.”

Sasha wondered if their friends would be so fortunate. It depended on whether Rhillian, Aisha, and Arendelle were still with them, to guide them in the dark.

“Arendelle was well when you separated from him?” Sasha asked.

“Yes. He went to help the others. I came to help you.”

“Why?”

Sasha's eyes were good enough now that she could see Kiel's dry smile.

“We are practical,” he said, with irony. “You fight well.”

“You too.”

“Friendship,” said Kiel, even more drily. “How nice.”

“Rhillian will have crossed the river at the next bridge,” said Sasha, ignoring his tone. “That way the Kazeri cannot trap her against the river. But it now puts the river between us and her.”

“We know where she's going,” said Kiel. “Let's get there before her. We cannot ambush that Kazeri force, it's too big, but we can make certain Rhillian will not be ambushed by another one. If that is just the vanguard for the Kazeri Army…”

“If the Kazeri Army comes down on top of us, there's not a lot we can do.”

“No,” Kiel agreed. “But we can make fast for Ilduur, and hope they are late.”

They rode uphill in the dark, and then along the ridge at a walk. Sasha wanted to contribute a route, having had far more experience riding in hills than Kiel, but whatever moon there was hid behind thick cloud, and she could barely see the trees as they passed. She thought it was past midnight, but could not tell. The horses plodded on despite exhaustion, and Sasha wondered how she was going to be able to reach Ilduur with no saddle or bridle, no saddlebags and no supplies. She doubted any of their company would be better off, should they reunite.

By dawn, she, Kiel, and the horses were exhausted. Then it began to rain. They both decided the rain offered the best excuse to stop and rest. Kiel
had
managed to saddle his horse, and Sasha wondered if he'd awoken early as Rhillian and Aisha had. He produced a blanket from his saddlebags, and covered them both with it as they made a nest between the roots of a big tree. The leaves offered cover at first, yet soon the rain grew heavier, and the blanket began to soak. Comfortably taller, Kiel wrapped his arms around her to warm them both.

“I wish I knew how to sleep on the ground,” he said with discomfort. “Errollyn can. But like Rhillian, I'm a city serrin, and I like my bed.”

Sasha said nothing, fast asleep.

The morning cleared to drifting mist and dripping branches, golden sunlight fighting through the cloud. More rested than Kiel, Sasha led the horses to a stream for watering, then picked a good trail up a hillside ridge from where she reckoned a decent lookout could be gained.

Above the southern horizon, the outline of jagged mountains rose. That way was Ilduur, their destination. In the maze of surrounding rumpled forest and valleys, Sasha made out the course of the river they'd left, and where she figured the road would take Rhillian, assuming Rhillian had followed it. The Kazeri, she was quite sure, would have stopped for the night having lost their quarry.

After gaining her bearings, she prepared to remount and saw Kiel frowning toward the western horizon.

“What is it?” she asked. Kiel said nothing, squinting into the distance. Serrin, Sasha knew, saw further by day also. Sasha waited. Finally Kiel prepared to mount, looking grim. “What?” Sasha repeated.

“An army,” said Kiel. “You'll not see it, I can barely make it out myself. That ridge there, beyond the yellow fields.”

Sasha looked. It was not too far. Perhaps a half-day's ride. “Heading which way?” she asked in alarm.

“Northeast. Toward our retreating armies. They move along a road, I can see the road where it crests the ridge. Horsemen pass in a steady flow.”

Horsemen. The Steel and the Army of Lenayin had large numbers of infantry, far slower.

“They'll be on them in a few days, if that.”

“We cannot help that,” Kiel said grimly. “Our mission remains unchanged; we must reach Ilduur, and hope our forces can fight their way to Jahnd.”

They reached the road by midday. There were hoof marks on the turf, no way of telling whose, but headed south, toward Ilduur. Sasha and Kiel followed until a band of townsfolk arrived, all armed and frightened, with tales of a great army passing near, and none of the Steel in any position to intercept it. They moved fast, one grizzled ex-Steel cavalryman told them, too fast for warning, all ahorse and numbering in the tens of thousands. Small bands scouted ahead, causing mayhem where they rode.

Asking after their companions brought gestures aimed further up the road. Sasha risked a canter, making ground rapidly until they came to another small village nestled in the valley folds. There waiting for them ahorse was Arendelle, lowering his bow as he recognised who approached. He led them wordlessly to the town square, where gathered another nine of their previously twenty-six-strong party, dishevelled and some wounded, assisted by frightened village folk.

Sasha exchanged a relieved embrace with a grim-looking Rhillian, then Aisha, sitting with a village elder discussing the road ahead. Both appeared unhurt.

“This is all?” Sasha asked in dismay, looking around.

“Some more may turn up, like you,” Rhillian said. “But we're certain of eight dead. The other six, I don't know.”

Sasha exhaled hard. More than half of their party dead or missing before they'd truly begun travelling. Most of the horses were saddled; Sasha guessed they'd received some from the villagers, but their reserve horses were gone.

“Pelner is too badly wounded to continue,” said Rhillian. “We'll have to leave him here and hope he survives. The village folk have camps in the hills and forests, and they can hide there for weeks. Daish is hurt, but he insists on continuing. He knows Ilduur well, so I'm inclined to risk it.”

“How did they know where we were?” Sasha muttered. “I can't believe they just got lucky.”

“We'll think about it later,” said Rhillian. “Let's rest here for a little longer, then we'll push on. Whether the Kazeri were lucky or not, they'll have guessed where we're heading now. They'll chase us hard.”

Sasha went to check on Daish. He was being tended by Yasmyn, who had herself a bloodied bandage on one hip beneath her riding pants. Daish sat shirtless, bound about the ribs with a bandage, a patch of blood on his left side.

“Stab wound?” Sasha asked, crouching alongside.

Yasmyn nodded, slicing spare cloth into bandage strips with her darak. “Past the bone, I think,” she said. “I don't think it found a lung, though.”

Sasha put a hand on Daish's shoulder. He smiled, wanly. “I got him though,” he said. “I skewered him right through the middle, that slanty-eyed piece of shit.” Then he blinked at Yasmyn. “No offence.”

Yasmyn made a face. “Common ancestor, Kazeri, Isfayen. Lisan too, most likely. Long time ago, Kazeri were great warriors, spread across Rhodia. Now they're just plain-dwellers and sheep herders without even enough sense to build a roof over their heads, dreaming of ancient greatness. When they meet the Army of Lenayin, their numbers will decrease.”

“Where were you last night?” Sasha asked her. “I couldn't find you.”

Yasmyn showed Sasha some fresh scars on her forearm. Self-inflicted, Sasha thought. “The
arganyar
, it demands blood. My enemies’ blood I have given to the gods; now I give them more each night for a week. I do the ritual outside. When I saw men sneaking. I hid.”

She looked angry. And ashamed. Outnumbered so greatly, Sasha didn't know what else she could have done…except raised the alarm, and died immediately. But she knew Yasmyn wouldn't see it that way.

“The serrin woke up,” she reassured her. “They raised the alarm, there was no need for you to sacrifice yourself.”

Yasmyn said nothing and tore more strips with her darak.

S
ofy trotted through the streets of Tracato, horses' hooves clattering off the high surrounding walls. She had been offered a carriage, and according to royal decorum she should perhaps have taken it. But there was fear in the air, the streets deserted save for the occasional scurrying townsman, and any protection offered by a carriage was deceptive. Amongst her entourage of armoured knights rode Jaryd and his two Lenay companions, plus Jeddie, who looked about with constant concern.

They entered a small square surrounded by very old buildings. Soldiers were camped here, horses drinking from the fountain, men in armour guarding laneways and watching all who entered. On one side rose a temple, single-spired in the fashion of old Bacosh temples. Atop its main steps stood knights in Larosan colours. These had come from the Army of the Bacosh, then. The others about the square were certainly Elissian.

The party dismounted. Jaryd took the bridle of Sofy's horse, looking warily at the soldiers. He did not need to tell her how little he liked the situation. She saw, and felt it herself, in her bones.

“Just guard the horses,” she told him in Lenay. “We'll need them if we're to go somewhere fast.” Jaryd nodded. His eyes flicked to Sofy's surrounding knights. They were her protection, supposedly…but if circumstances had changed as word had it, she'd be a fool to believe that would be their only function.

Sofy indicated to Jeddie, and the two women walked to the temple steps, accompanied by Bacosh knights, armour rattling as they went. Her knights took up station at the entrance to the temple as the women walked on, into the musty air and dull light. Sofy smelled incense, and saw that before the altar a tall chair had been placed like a throne. Upon it sat a very fat man in black robes and a tall hat. In a half-circle before him sat more priests in more chairs, beneath tall stands of scented candles.

Sofy walked toward them with gathering dread. To the Archbishop's right stood Dafed and several of his favoured lords. The priests all stood as she approached. The Archbishop stood also, with groaning effort. Sofy walked within the half-circle, and curtseyed. All bowed.

“Princess Sofy,” said Aesol Turen, Archbishop of Larosa. He was the second in authority throughout the Verenthane world, deferring only to the Archbishop of Torovan. With Larosa's recent successes at the head of a conquering army, some rumoured that even that authority may be shifting.

“Archbishop Turen,” said Sofy. “A pleasure.”

“We shall sit,” said Turen, and some men brought chairs for Sofy and Jeddie. Jeddie sat further back, while Sofy sat alone before the arc of priests. Dafed looked on, his broad face grim. “I hear interesting tales of your conduct, since your arrival in this city,” the Archbishop continued in Torovan.

“The Larosan court is filled with interesting tales,” Sofy replied, in Larosan. The priests all glanced at each other, surprised at her fluency. She'd been practising. Larosan was the tongue of all Bacosh noble courts, spoken by all the nobility, regardless of region. In the presence of most Lenays, those nobles would stoop to speak Torovan, the language of trade and the only regional tongue most Lenays would understand—a condescension often granted with a smirk.

Sofy's mouth was dry, and her heart thumping unpleasantly. It was a risk, to insist upon a less familiar tongue. But she could not allow them to condescend to her here, after the news that she had heard.

“Indeed,” said the Archbishop. “Today I come bearing
most
interesting tales. Would you like me to tell them? You have no doubt heard rumour, by now.” His tone was arch, and superior. Yasmyn had hated him on first meeting. Sofy had been more tolerant. Now she found herself conceding to Yasmyn's judgement.

“I have heard that half of the Army of Lenayin has changed sides,” said Sofy. She pressed her hands firmly together in her lap, lest they should tremble. “My sister leads them.”

“Changed sides,” pronounced Turen. There was deathly silence in the small temple. Turen smiled unpleasantly. “Turned traitor, one might more correctly say. And rather more than half, I hear.”

Sofy knew the divisions better than anyone here, save for Jaryd, who remained outside. She could guess the lines upon which the split had occurred. Led by Sasha…so the three northern provinces of Hadryn, Ranash, and Banneryd would have done the precise opposite. The rest would have divided largely on noble lines, the nobility with the northern provinces, the common folk with Sasha. Except (as everything in Lenayin was “except”) for the Taneryn. And possibly even the Isfayen, whose nobility disliked their so-called peers and had grown recently fond of Sasha.

“Do you have news of my siblings?” Sofy asked, unable to quite keep the fear from her voice.

“Your brother the king remains loyal,” Turen conceded. “The younger brother too, Myklas. The others, not so much.”

Sofy let out the small, tight breath she'd been holding. “So they are well?”

“Quite,” Turen pronounced, curtly. “The last I heard.”

Sofy tried to think. What could have caused such a calamity? She knew that Sasha had been unhappy, as many Lenays had been unhappy. And she wasn't completely naive, she knew that her husband had been shielding her from the worst atrocities of the invasion. Lenayin had suffered greatly in battle, she had lost her own father, and Lenay morale had suffered…but in Lenayin, honour was all, and honourable behaviour, as Sofy understood it, did not entail changing sides in the middle of a war. Sasha's more extreme flights of emotion did not surprise her at all…but for the Army of Lenayin to
follow
her in such numbers…

What had happened to make them hate their new allies so much? Seated here before the circle, Sofy felt the wall of accusing eyes upon her. Beneath those stares, she understood her own danger.

“We would all here be most intrigued,” Turen said into that silence, “to hear your appraisal of these events. We of the Bacosh had heard many stories of the fearsome warriors of Lenayin, but we had not heard that they were so
disloyal.
”

“You still have a considerable portion of the Army of Lenayin with you,” Sofy returned.

“As I said, rather less than half.”

“A less-than-half that includes the heavy northern cavalry, always the most formidable portion.” Sofy injected a note of cold reprimand into her voice. She understood very well that here she must fight, or quite possibly die. “Many Lenays fought and died so that my husband's forces could attain their current position. Indeed, our very presence in Tracato has been purchased with the lives of many thousands of Lenay warriors. It is the Verenthane code that one should never show disrespect upon ground stained with the blood of martyrs. I know that you do not mean to sound disrespectful, Archbishop Turen.”

“The forces of the Free Bacosh won victory over Rhodaan upon Sonnai Plain,” said Dafed, from the Archbishop's right. “I fought upon the Sonnai, and I did not see any Lenays there.”

There was a muttering of approval from his fellow lords.

“You fought one Army of the Steel at odds of better than five to one against,” said Sofy. “You barely won. Upon your flank, Lenayin fought another Army of the Steel at odds of one to one, and barely lost. Were Lenayin not upon your flank, you would have faced two armies of the Steel together, and been annihilated like so many of your forebears.” Dafed's lords glared at her.

“By my calculation,” Sofy continued mercilessly, “if you still possess the strongest formation of the Army of Lenayin within your ranks, then you still possess a force more than twice the value of all the rest of your armies combined.”

“Ludicrous!” someone exclaimed.

“Ask the Enoran Steel how it is ludicrous,” Sofy snapped. “All agree they came within a hair of defeat, something your Bacosh Armies have never achieved in two hundred years with many times the force. Lenays do not require odds of five to one to win
our
victories.”

If they no longer need me, if they no longer fear me, I'm dead.

Observing the angry faces around her, the thought formed quite clearly. Most had never liked the alliance. Now they had true cause not to. She was an impediment, as her marriage to Balthaar Arrosh blocked access to that most valuable thing that all others craved—wedlock to the future King of all Bacosh. She had to impress upon them how important she still was, and how deadly her family and allies would be to offend.

“Now, now,” said Turen, raising a calming hand. “Let us not descend into crude allegations and counter-allegations. I would hear the princess's assessment.”

Sofy swallowed and calmed herself. “Lenayin is a land only recently united,” she said. “There are many lines of fracture amongst my people. Many of us feared this outcome from the start. My brother the king did advocate this war in part to unite our people, to meld them together in the forge of war. He was counselled of the possibility that it may have an alternative effect. Now it seems those fears are realised.”

“The pagans have all abandoned the cause, then?”

“It's not a matter of pagans and Verenthanes, Archbishop.”

“And yet all those who remain loyal are Verenthane.”

“And noble. That is the primary thing. This is a war about nobility, above all else.”

“Interesting,” said Turen. “I had thought it a war for the righteous gods against ungodly evil, myself.”

“Whatever else the serrin have done,” Sofy continued, ignoring the interjection, “they have abolished nobility in these lands. My husband's army seeks to restore it. Nobility is a point of great contention in Lenayin also. All nobility there is Verenthane, save for the Taneryn. I would guess that some, if not most, Verenthane common folk will have joined this rebellion—the dislike of nobility runs deep in Lenayin save in the north, irrespective of faith. Perhaps this campaign has reawakened those old arguments.”

“It seems the noble families of Lenayin have not earned the love of the people.”

“Possibly true,” Sofy said coldly. “A fact from which
my
family remains the exception.”

“I hear tales,” continued the Archbishop, “that you are quite taken with these lands. With this city, and its serrin constructions.”

“There is much knowledge here,” said Sofy. “Things that wise rulers could learn to use, as Lenay rulers learned much from the Torovan Verenthanes who brought us the faith one century ago.”

“Do you like this city?”

“I find it has its attractions,” Sofy said cautiously.

“Myself,” said Turen, “I feel it could be improved.”

Leaving the temple, Sofy made straight for Jaryd. About the courtyard now, Elissian lords were giving orders to horsemen, who clattered away down adjoining lanes. Something was afoot.

“They're organising,” said Jaryd, with a nod to the Elissians. “I think the others are coming.” The Elissian Army, he meant. The one that was supposed to remain camped beyond the city limits.

“I don't like this at all,” said Jeddie, pale with alarm. “What in the world is the Archbishop doing here anyway? I mean, the Army of Lenayin defects and
he
chooses to deliver the message personally?”

“My husband did not want the priesthood involved in the fate of Tracato,” said Sofy. “He made it explicit: he does not trust them to make decisions.”

Jeddie was shaking her head. “He doesn't
control
the priesthood, Sofy! No one does, they answer to the gods. Until now they've been preoccupied with returning the Shereldin Star to Shemorane, but now they've achieved that, they're free to start reordering these conquered lands as they see fit!”

“Balthaar had the authority to keep them out of Tracato and send me instead,” Sofy muttered. “But when the Army of Lenayin broke up, that ended. His lords who opposed sending me will have revolted….”

“Yes,” said Jeddie, breathlessly. She was the daughter of Tournean nobility, she'd lived and breathed these manoeuvrings her entire life. “Balthaar's position itself could be under threat, he has lost face over this….”

“He's just won the biggest victory in two centuries,” Jaryd disagreed. “He's not about to be weakened now—”

“Listen,” Jeddie said impatiently, “when a leader of a great army wins a big victory, it is judged to be a verdict of the gods. That's where his new authority comes from. Now who do you think is in charge of issuing that verdict?”

“The Archbishop,” said Sofy. “He's in a fight with Balthaar over the future of these lands. And now he has a free hand here, and an army of vengeful Elissians to do his bidding.” Now she was scared, in a way that threats to her personal safety had not entirely achieved. “Jaryd, I want you to ride to the Justiciary and find Maldereld's Founding. The original manuscripts, the codes of law, those must be saved.”

Jaryd shook his head. “No. I swore to protect you—I'm not leaving you alone now that these idiots want your head—”

“Jaryd, I'm still a Lenay Princess, and I command you to—”

“You're not!” Jaryd snorted. “You stopped being that when you married that goon.”

“Then what the hells are you doing here?” She stared at him, shoulders heaving. Jaryd stared back. The answer hung in the air, stark in their silence. Sofy's eyes nearly spilled as she looked at him. She couldn't afford this now, there were so many larger things at stake. “Jaryd, there are documents in the Justiciary that lay the foundations of a better world. A world without these
goons
, as you call them. They'll want them destroyed, they'll want all of it destroyed. Don't tell me that means nothing to you.”