Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (39 page)

“Aisha, enough.”

Aisha sighed. Sasha went quickly down the steps, face grim, toward where Arken was waiting for her below, in full armour, some of his new command in tow.

“Visitors,” said Arken without preamble. “Awaiting on the square, demanding to see you. Nasi-Keth.” Sasha nodded. It was bound to happen. The one remaining fighting force left in Ilduur was not going to take the Steel's actions lying down.

“What of your Nasi-Keth officers?” Sasha asked. Arken was now a formation captain, replacing one such officer who had abandoned his post.

“Three gone,” said Arken. “One remains, and professes loyalty. Those three are now making trouble in the Tol'rhen, clear as day.”

“I'd rather they make trouble there than within the Steel,” said Sasha. “Let's go.” Sasha's personal guard led the way across the square, Arken's men behind, the new captain, Sasha, Aisha, and Yasmyn walking together.

“Aisha is right about Lenayin,” said Yasmyn. “Only a strong leader can unite the provinces. You are that leader.”

“Considering that we'll be outnumbered at Jahnd by the Regent nearly four-to-one even
with
the Ilduuri Steel,” Sasha said testily, “I think it's a little premature to start planning my rule over Lenayin.”

“A warrior either expects to win, or expects to lose. Should you expect to lose, why bother fighting?”

“Because running away makes one a coward,” Sasha retorted. “Besides which, a warrior expecting to win should not immediately pick fights with every man in town. Or else he will start losing, and fast.”

“Should you lead the town to victory in battle, all others would follow you and not fight you,” Yasmyn said stubbornly. “Should you win in Jahnd, all Lenays would follow you….”

“Enough, Yasmyn!” Sasha exclaimed, spinning on her and Aisha as they walked. “Both of you! If we win in Jahnd, Damon will be king, and he will make a good king!” She spun back as they kept walking. “I never thought I'd see
you
two agreeing on a matter of violence.”

“Violence?” asked Aisha. “No one is suggesting you should
fight
Damon for it.”

“Just how fucking naive are you, Aisha? What do you think happens when rivals fight for a throne? Have you paid
any
attention to the past few centuries of Bacosh history?”

“To win in Jahnd, you should have command there,” said Yasmyn, unperturbed. “To have unchallenged command, this should be settled first. Isfayen will back you.”

“I will fucking beat you with my fists if you don't shut up,” Sasha fumed.

“And I will repeat it nonetheless,” said Yasmyn. Sasha had no doubt that she would. Uncomprehending, Arken watched them with a frown.

“We debate a Lenay matter,” Sasha told him, in Saalsi. “Have no fear, we gang of Lenay speakers will not discuss Ilduuri matters in any tongue Ilduuri cannot understand. This is your land, not ours.”

Arken nodded, and said nothing.

One of the Nasi-Keth awaiting them by the edge of the square was dressed as an Ilduuri Steel captain. Soldiers surrounding him appeared tense and angry, a few with weapons drawn. This was one of the Nasi-Keth men the Remischtuul had promoted to command within the Steel at the expense of experienced and respected officers, Sasha realised. Now he stood defiantly, two companions at his side. Those two were dressed as town men, though their garb was loose and flexible in the right places. Fighting clothes, for svaalverd fighters. At their backs, they wore serrin swords on the diagonal.

“Captain Rael,” the officer introduced himself.

“Not anymore,” said Arken. The two men glared at each other. Rael was nearly as tall and blond as Arken, with pale eyes.

“You have committed a grave crime against Ilduur,” Rael told Sasha, arms folded, standing to his full height. There was no sword in his sheath, soldiers having taken it from him. They stood at the base of a statue, with further guards observing the flanking buildings for archers in the windows, shields at the ready in case of a long-range bolt.

“I have done nothing to Ilduur save to show the Ilduuri Steel a path,” Sasha replied. “It was the Steel who chose to take it.”

Rael scoffed. “You idiot girl, can you not see you have been taken for a ride? This is a grab for power by the easterners. They wish to rule Ilduur themselves. I hear you are fighting the Regent in the name of freedom. Tell me—how much freedom shall there be for Ilduur when we majority Ilduuri have no representation in the Remischtuul, and one of these eastern friends of yours rules us like a king with an iron fist?”

“I don't care,” said Sasha. “The people of Ilduur are free, and in their freedom they chose evil. Freedom is not wisdom, nor is it kindness, nor honour. Ilduur freely chose to make war on Saalshen and its allies, and now it pays the price.”

“War?” Rael looked aghast. “What is this war that you speak of? We seek only to
avoid
fighting a war, as is our right!”

“You swore an oath to your brothers in Enora and Rhodaan that you would defend them against…”

“The
Steel
swore an oath!” Rael retorted. “An oath now centuries old, meaningless to most Ilduuris, nurtured by the Steel only to preserve their power and status over we majority Ilduuris…”

He might have said more. Sasha stopped listening and looked across the courtyard, at soldiers watching, at others guarding the roads and lanes, at the pointed roofs of buildings overlooking the square. At some point, Rael must have stopped speaking, because there was silence. Sasha looked back to him, and some of her utter contempt must have shown, for he paled, though with fear or anger she could not guess. Perhaps both.

“I am Lenay,” she said in a cold voice. “If all Ilduuri think as you do, then I admit, most Lenays would not care if this civilisation
dies.”
She let it sink in. “You are a land of cowards, and I feel nothing for you. If the eastern regions are the only regions that will honour their oath and fight against the evil that gathers to enslave us, then I am with them.”

“You fool!” Rael rasped. “You cannot bring freedom by inflicting tyranny!”

“I can,” said Sasha. “I will.”

“The Nasi-Keth will not stand for it! The Ilduuri Nasi-Keth have been protectors of the Remischtuul for two centuries; even now we gather former Nasi-Keth from all walks, common city folk who train still with the svaalverd, and will fight to regain it. I am warning you, we can gather more Ilduuris who are not afraid to fight, and even the Steel cannot stand against the might of all Ilduuris together, fighting for their freedom.”

“Would be the first time you ever felt the need to do that,” Arken remarked drily. “Until now you've left that all to us.”

“Don't be stupid,” Sasha told Rael. “You are not warriors, you've shown that already.”

“Any man can be a warrior,” Rael growled, “if he is deprived of something that he loves so dearly as his freedom.”

“If you'd arrived at that conclusion a century or two ago, I might believe you. But this love of freedom you profess, this is an old and shrivelled thing, like an old man's sword arm, withered from lack of use. What you describe is passion. Love for something larger than yourself. This is something you must practise, like swordwork itself. Like courage. You cannot just rediscover courage when it suits you, or honour, any more than you can neglect svaalverd for years and expect it to all come rushing back from memory when you need it.

“You must work at it tirelessly, and with discipline. This is true for great warriors and for great civilisations; even the serrin do this, serrin who believe mostly in peace—they
practise
it. They debate and philosophise, and they learn arts and study and heal, they know that peace is a difficult and elusive thing that must be pursued relentlessly and with passion. You don't have it. Or perhaps once you did, but now it lies long forgotten.”

“We shall see,” Rael growled. He signalled his companions, and they turned to stride away. Sasha watched them go.

“You
must
become Queen of Lenayin!” Yasmyn said with fierce satisfaction. “It is your destiny.” Yasmyn, of course, had not understood a word Sasha had said.

“Many are upset to see the Remischtuul fall even though they were not upset merely to see Stamentaast dying,” said Arken. “They did not come out in numbers then, but they may now, with the Nasi-Keth leading. They may not believe that the Steel will kill them, and if there are so many, I fear they may be right.”

“There cannot be an uprising,” said Sasha, with certainty. “We will not have reinforcements from the rest of the Steel for days. We cannot allow it.”

Arken nodded. “What is your order?”

The sun had barely moved in the sky when several hundred Steel and
talmaad
fell upon the Tol'rhen. Great gatherings of locals, Nasi-Keth, and Stamentaast scattered before the fast thrust of armoured soldiers from the surrounding streets, moving at a full run so as not to give the lookouts more than a moment of advance warning.

Arrow fire came back from across the courtyard, as startled men with bows sought vantage atop steps or from Tol'rhen windows. Most arrows or crossbow bolts cracked off the Steel's massed shields, and did not slow them. Sasha moved in the rear, surrounded by her own company of Steel infantry, eleven strong including herself. She could not see much as they crossed the courtyards, her small shield filling a space between the big ones that protected them from random arrows. It was not as easy as it looked, to move in formation, to make oneself an identical brick in a wall of bricks, and not allow any gap. She was here to command, not to fight, but from behind the wall of shields she could barely see.

In frustration she moved her shield aside enough to see ahead: men were running up the Tol'rhen stairs before the leading line of Steel, others fighting and falling, arrows zipping and clattering about. Around her, men panted harder than she, for running those roads in armour was testing.

The first wave of Steel simply ran over any defenders on the steps and plunged into the Tol'rhen. Now from behind came a mad sprint of
talmaad
, serrin with bows in hand and swords on their backs racing across the pavings in the Steel's wake. Sasha stopped her squad behind the trees of a courtyard garden, and from that cover sought a view.

Then she saw them—the cavalry, emerging from the courtyard's far side, slipping on the pavings yet blocking the crowd's retreat with their charge. Now most townsmen were running rather than fighting, some huddling for cover, cowering with arms over their heads amidst thrashing hooves and stomping boots. Others fought, and were cut down. Someone was blowing a trumpet, in a vain attempt to muster defenders on the southern side of the courtyard, furthest from the lake.

“There!” Sasha yelled. “Trumpet! I want cavalry on the left! On the left, over here!” The man with the trumpet blew some ear-splitting notes, and repeated, and repeated. Sasha could not see any immediate response—cavalry had their hands full stopping the retreat from the first attack, as had been the initial plan. Cavalry soldiers seemed to be looking for their officers, for confirmation of the trumpet call, only to find their officers busy, or to not find them at all.

Sasha swore. “Go, go! Let's get into them ourselves, the others will follow!” Her men redeployed quickly, herself in the middle, holding her spot in the line. Eleven strong, they made a line abreast, and charged. It was not a mad run like Lenay warriors might make, but a crouched run with small steps, balanced so as not to let the shields bounce around and expose them to arrows. Sasha glimpsed past her shield a force of men running at them rather than standing and waiting.

“Five!” yelled her squad's formation sergeant, and Sasha, warned of this technique, sprinted the last five steps and threw herself into that collision with her shield. She hit someone, felt him stagger back, heard yells and falling bodies as their opponents reeled, caught off guard by the wall of shields that suddenly accelerated into them. Her comrades were moving and striking, jostling her as she tried to control her shield.

She tried an overhead strike, yet now their opponents were coming back, many armed with shields of their own, and an impact sent her reeling back a step.

“Hold!” yelled the man next to her. “Hold and push!” Stab, and a shriek, a man falling bloodily. “Hold and push!” He might have been yelling at her, Sasha thought, but she could not tell. She complied, and an opponent slashed under the shield, she barely slammed it down in time, then a shoulder ram drove her back again…only the soldier beside her anticipated it, and drove his blade through that man's neck.

Something else hit her shield with force enough to jar her arm, and she tried to coordinate a stab with the movements of the man to her right, but he was fast, and the target uncooperative. A spear thrust nearly took her eye out, and a sword edge left a deep gash in her shield rim, and she realised they were being pushed back, eleven against whatever-it-was, and surely now in danger of being outflanked…

And suddenly there were cavalry ploughing through their opponents, striking left and right, and men were scattering. For a moment she thought it was over, until she saw that only a few horses had made the break to assist, and though some men had run, others were circling and coming back, shouting for their comrades to stand firm.

“Circle!” yelled the squad sergeant, and the formation's flanks swung neatly about to make that shape with their shields, as enemies now ran around and at them from behind.

“Fucking stupid!” Sasha announced her displeasure with that, and shrugged the shield off her arm with relief. Free at last, she ran at her opponents on open ground before they could form up. She fake-stepped one, killed him when he guessed wrong, danced out of range of a second's swing, ducked easily inside a spear thrust and ripped him at close range. Uncoordinated attacks came at her, Nasi-Keth now, seeing the chance to claim her outside the shield wall and mistakenly thinking that made an easier task.

There was so much space, after the confines of the formation. She couldn't believe how much, as she danced and tore her way through three in quick succession, then a fourth who had just begun to question the wisdom of being there at all. Some shieldsmen who might have troubled her now backed up in panic, seeing what she'd done, and she faked one into a defensive block that didn't come, took his sword arm instead, then hit another's shield with such force he fell backward, and ran past him as he screamed and begged for mercy. But the others were running now, as more Steel arrived at a run, and the enemies who had encircled her squad died upon those shields, or ran away. A newly arrived formation ploughed into the main body of gathering militia ahead, and so began the next front.