Lady Knight (28 page)

Besides, the big man had to keep some captives. He was going to lead Kel to Blayce the Gallan.

After dawn, the game would be up. Stenmun would know he was followed: he’d be watchful. Kel and her people would be reduced to picking off his scouts, the tail-end riders in his column, and the men he sent for water - at least, until he realized their weakness and started to send children for it. Sooner or later he would think to protect his men by allowing them to ride with children on their saddles.

How to get rid of the soldiers without endangering the children? she wondered as she watered her horses. Tobe. Tobe could call the horses to him. Her people could then drag the rider down, sparing the child. Mithros, god of warriors, must have sent Tobe to Kel. The boy was worth his weight in gold.

She gnawed a cold sausage, got down some mouthfuls of cheese, and made herself eat a wedge of bread. She wasn’t hungry, but fainting because she hadn’t eaten would be foolish. More than at any time in her life, she could afford no mistakes.

Once the moon was high enough to see by, they resaddled their mounts and put the spare horses on lead-reins. Kel and Dom checked each mount for the slightest jingle in its tack, and muffled each piece with cloth. Only when they could move quietly did they head towards the enemy camp.

The moon was overhead when they took places in the woods around Stenmun’s camp. The man had chosen carelessly, halting in a pocket formed by the land at the foot of a set of bluffs. From those bluffs Kel and her people could look down into his camp. The children slept, some restlessly. Those who tossed soon woke up. It was a little while before Kel saw why. Each of them was picketed next to a soldier by a stake and a chain. When they moved too hard, the soldier would instantly awake. He would give a yank on the chain until the child tethered there huddled unmoving once more.

It was time. Kel snapped a branch. Humans might think an animal made the sound, but Jump would know his signal.

Furious yowling split the air, the sound of a cat in combat with a hated enemy. The cat’s yowls and the crash of battle in the underbrush were loud even on the bluff. Dom turned to Kel and grinned. Everyone in Stenmun’s camp woke, the men flailing for their weapons. The grey-and-orange cat, all fur and claws, raced through the camp and back, screaming her rage. Jump and another dog - a brown, black and white fellow with lungs of leather - charged here and there among men and children, baying as they “chased” the angry cat.

One of the soldiers got to his feet, a big, double-headed axe in hand. He swung and just missed hacking the cat in two. She raced up his legs and chest before he knew what she was doing, gouging his flesh. She sank all four sets of claws into his scalp before she launched herself from his head into the dark. The dogs had vanished the moment that axe came down.

Kel surveyed Stenmun in the scant moonlight: here at last was one of the enemy. Not only was he big; he handled that axe as lightly as if it were made of straw. She would have her work cut out for her if she fought him.

“Animals!” she heard him roar. “It’s just animals - all of you shut up and go back to sleep!” His was a battlefield voice that could be heard over the clash of weapons and men’s yells. Kel admired the order, though she thought Stenmun didn’t know babies. That roar, on top of the dog and cat fight, just made the five infants in the camp shriek all the louder. The men who cared for them had a dreadful time calming them until they could sleep. Some of Kel’s men stuffed their forearms into their mouths to stifle laughter.

Kel watched the camp, marking who had the babies, where the horses were picketed, and where their sentries were posted. Obviously Stenmun felt safe now: he took no care to conceal his people. One of her human scouts reported that the two men now detailed to watch the road and the river had sat down to drink and dice against one another. A woods sentry between the road and the bluffs sat on a stretch of rock lit by moonlight, biting his nails and scratching his scalp. He’d taken his helmet off, something his relief scolded him for. At the far end of the bluffs the silhouette of the man on watch there was clear against the sky. His relief was no smarter, because he took the same place out in the open.

Kel poked Dom after the new watch was posted and the old had gone to bed. Dom poked the man next to him, and so on down the line to Neal, who tossed a pebble down below. Shepherd, hidden in the brush, began to howl. The dogs of Kel’s command lifted their heads and joined him. In the distance wolves heard and began their own pack’s song. The babies came to immediate, shrieking wakefulness; the soldiers scrambled to their feet.

They had barely settled down to sleep again when Kel signalled Tobe. She couldn’t see or hear what he did, but suddenly the picketed horses went mad, neighing and trying to free themselves. They yanked and plunged, forcing the men to rise once more to calm them and make sure their tethers were secure. Some men couldn’t lie back down. They had the next watch.

Everything was going as planned. Kel rolled on to her back and took a nap.

A hand nudged her. She sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes as she reached for her bow. From the sounds of the birds and the ghostly light that filled the air, it was almost dawn.

The others had fanned out to assigned positions. Kel rose to her knees, squinting in the iffy light, set an arrow to her bow, and sighted on her target, a man in the woods. He crouched by a stream that fed the river, splashing water on his face. Kel loosed. Her first arrow skimmed over his head. He scrambled to his feet, looking around in panic. Her second arrow killed him.

Around her rose the soft twang of bows. Saefas and Fanche shot; as did Gil, Dom, Uinse and Fulcher, the best of Kel’s archers. Six more sentries died as quietly as Kel’s had. A signal came up the chain of watchers: Owen had killed the road sentry. Lofren of Dom’s squad killed the man on the riverbank.

Once the easy shots were over, everyone but Kel retreated to the spot two hundred yards back where Tobe and the dogs waited with the horses. Kel found a hiding place in a massive tree, one that still gave her a good view of the camp. She’d had to argue with Neal and Dom, but at last they’d seen that she had a point. She could weigh their future tactics by observing how Stenmun reacted when he found all of his sentries for the pre-dawn watch dead. They had killed nine, almost a tenth of Stenmun’s force. Not bad for a night’s work, Kel thought grimly as she shifted so a knot in her tree wouldn’t dig through her mail into her kidneys.

The raiders’ camp slept through dawn. The sentries were to rouse the others as they came off duty, except that none lived to do so. Predictably, it was the babies who woke first. They began to cry from hunger or wet nappies. The toddlers and slightly older children woke to strange, uncomfortable settings and the faces of strangers, and joined in the infants’ wails.

Stenmun lunged to his feet with a roar of fury: “Can’t a man sleep!”

Kel, watching through her spyglass, saw the big man notice the sun was well over the horizon. He scowled and barked orders. A handful of men scurried out to check their sentries.

They returned at a run to tell Stenmun that the last guard shift of the night was dead. This was the moment Kel had waited for. In Stenmun’s place she would have searched the woods, taking hours if necessary to track down who had killed her men and to ensure the safety of those left to him. If her notions about Stenmun were right, though, Blayce and the killing devices would be of greater concern than his soldiers. If that were the case, Stenmun would rush on to his master with his prizes. She hoped that wouldn’t sit well with his men: angry men were slipshod. It would mean she could pick off more soldiers as the Scanrans fled.

After the last searcher returned to tell the big man what they had found, Kel watched as Stenmun thought. He pulled on his lower lip and scowled, then glared at the men who’d brought the news and gave them an order.

The men argued fiercely. By their gestures and their expressions Kel guessed that they wanted to bury the dead properly and say prayers. Stenmun cut them off. The argument got worse; one man slapped his chest as if he asked, “Will you do this if I am killed?”

Stenmun’s answer was a snarl and a blow that knocked the man back six feet. The men got to work. Once the horses were ready, they untethered the children, tied their hands together, and helped them on to horses. Some children rode with a soldier; others paired up on a horse that was led by one.

Her lads had to be careful, thought Kel as she waited for the Scanrans to ride out. Those children were the soldiers’ best protection. Stenmun would know that as soon as he found time to wonder why only his sentries had been killed. She’d be reluctant to tamper with any man who rode with a child, and she couldn’t let Tobe call a horse that might throw a child and kill him, or her, by accident.

Once the Scanrans were gone, Kel climbed down from the tree and ran back to her men to describe what she’d seen. As they mounted up, Neal handed Kel a slice of bread covered with melted cheese, followed by another. Kel wolfed the food. She looked at him reproachfully as she ate.

“We used dry wood,” he said. He knew she was thinking that a fire was risky. “No smoke at all.”

“Smell,” she mumbled around a mouthful.

“The enemy was upwind,” Saefas replied. “They’d have to be gods to smell it.”

“Mother gets so upset when she thinks we lads have been careless,” Dom teased Kel as she gulped some water.

“If I’d been your mother, I’d've beaten you,” she informed him, swinging on to Hoshi’s back. “Bows, everyone. We’ll use the road till our forward scout spots the enemy. After that, we take to the woods. It’s risky, but we have to chance it. They’ve got little ones with all the men. No shooting unless a man dismounts and leaves the children on the horse. Remember the plans we made last night. We can do this if we go at it carefully.” She’d had to work to persuade her companions not to kill Stenmun or even all of his men. Stenmun had to lead them to Blayce.

They rode at a trot, doing their best to go easy on the warhorses, gaining on Stenmun. They had not gone far when Dom tapped Kel’s shoulder and pointed up through a gap in the trees. Kel looked and growled under her breath. Four Stormwings flew lazily along the road, closer to Stenmun than they were to Kel and her fighters. If Stenmun didn’t know someone followed him, he does now, she thought grimly. Within moments the trees closed in again, which stopped her from having to choose between pursuit and a brief halt to shoot Stormwings.

At last the convict soldier who rode as forward scout returned with the sparrows to say the enemy was in sight. Kel and her people fanned out in the northern woods. That slowed them, forcing them to watch the ground for rabbit holes and other hazards which might cause a mount to break a leg or a rider to bang his head. They’d been in the woods long enough for Kel to realize she needed to find a bush where she could relieve herself in private when the forward scout returned a second time. Their quarry had stopped to water their horses.

Kel hand-signalled for Gil, Fanche and Owen to dismount, go forward and pick off any soldiers if they could. When they were gone from view Kel signalled four more of her people to go forward with their bows. She and the others drew back to a stream they’d just crossed.

There they waited. Kel relieved herself, then returned to gnaw a handful of the dried dates favoured by the Bazhir among her companions. She made a face as she nibbled. They were sticky sweet. To the man who’d given them to her she whispered, “Your people like these things?”

“If you don’t want them,” he began, reaching for the handful.

Kel yanked them back. “I need the food,” she confessed, trying not to yawn. She was tired, despite two naps the night before. Catnapping in hostile country was not restful.

They heard crashing in the woods. The sparrows came winging back to signal the approach of friends. It was Fanche, Gil and Owen, sweating and bright-eyed with success. Gil raised a bony fist, extended his thumb, and dipped it four times. They had shot four men.

They heard more crashes and battle sounds. Kel and the others grabbed their weapons and waited. Five horses, riderless and wild-eyed with terror, galloped through the trees to halt beside Tobe. The four archers who had gone to cover Gil, Fanche and Owen returned, wiping sweaty faces on their sleeves. One of them - Lofren - grinned as he raised his hand, made a fist, extended a thumb, and dipped it five times.

“Old Stenmun’ll be wetting his breeches,” Dom murmured to Kel. “He’s down eighteen men.”

When a scout reported that Stenmun was on the move again, Kel and her people returned to the road. They could speed up now, Kel decided. Stenmun knew the enemy was still with him. If he wasn’t going to send anyone after them - and his departure after they’d killed nine of his men told her that he wouldn’t - he’d ride for Blayce as fast as he could. His captives would slow him down even more as they now outnumbered his warriors. It was time to see if they could recover some of the children.

The problem with catching up with Stenmun was that with fewer men to burden the horses, his train could ride faster. Wolset, Kel’s latest forward scout, sent word back that horses without soldiers to ride them had been put on lead-reins, children tied to their saddles. Kel ordered him to keep Stenmun always within sight. She thought as she rode. There had to be a way to separate some of those horses from their lead-reins.

“What about the sparrows?” Neal asked softly as he drew even with Kel. “If they came at the faces of the men holding those lead-reins, the men might drop them. Tobe could summon the horses back to us.”

Kel smiled at her friend. “I always knew you were the clever one,” she said. To Nari on her shoulder Kel explained what she wanted. Nari listened, then rounded up those of her flock not on scout duty. Tobe, Gil and Saefas followed the birds down the road.

“You know, when I was growing up, talking to animals was considered more than a bit cracked,” Kel remarked to Fanche, who had come to ride on her other side. “But the more I do it, the more reasonable it seems.”

“It helps that you know they understand,” replied the woman. “I wouldn’t want to visit that palace of yours.”

“Why not?” chorused Neal and Kel, startled. In their travels they were always asked to describe the palace and the people who lived there. When they did so, the usual responses from their audience were sighs and the wish to actually see it, just once.

“Well, your animals here are unnatural. What if you return to find the horses have decided not to work for men and the dogs are running the courts of law?” Fanche asked.

Kel grimaced. Sometimes she wondered the same thing.

When she heard Stenmun’s roar of frustration, she knew he must be in an area hemmed in by rock, which bounced the noise back along the river. I hope you told Blayce how many children you would bring, she thought with grim satisfaction. I hope he holds you to account for the missing ones.

Tobe came back on Peachblossom, three horses trailing him. They trotted along the road neatly, taking care not to spill their precious burdens, two girls in their early teens, three boys of seven to nine years, a toddler and one infant. Kel welcomed each with a smile, a clasp of the hand, or a ruffle of the hair, but her insides twisted. Stenmun still had more children, including Loesia, Gydo and Meech.

She sent a convict soldier up to take over as scout. Wolset, when he returned, was sweating hard. Kel gave him her second-to-last handkerchief.

“Thanks, milady,” he said gratefully, wiping his face. “They won’t make that mistake a second time, I fear. Stenmun ordered them that’s leading horses to wrap the lead-reins around their waists or their saddle horns. Where we are now? In about five hundred yards the land starts rising. It looks like there’s a castle on a mountainside ahead, with the river in front. Ten miles, perhaps? I think they’re riding for it.”

Kel gnawed on her lip. She couldn’t push the horses any harder, not the warhorses, anyway. “Gil?” she asked, waving the grizzled convict soldier to her. “Take your lads and Saefas. Try to get into the road in front of them. Start shooting, but don’t hit anyone. I want them stopped, or slowed down, not killed. Tobe, take Hoshi.” She dismounted and collected her weapons as Tobe clambered from Peachblossom’s back to Hoshi’s. Kel took Peachblossom’s reins. “Ask Stenmun’s horses to slow down if you can.”

Tobe rubbed his forehead. “If I can. It’s easier with just two or three.”

Within moments the convicts, Gil, Saefas and Tobe were gone, dust rising from the road in their wake. Kel swung herself into Peachblossom’s saddle with a grateful sigh. She didn’t want to exhaust the gelding by riding him too long and too fast with the burden of her weight, armour and weapons, but it was very comforting to be on him again. She looked at Neal. “Shall we?” she asked.

They had not gone far when her advance party returned at the gallop. Kel drew up. They wouldn’t have returned unless something was very wrong.

“There’s an army ahead, beyond a rise in the ground,” Gil reported, his weathered face ashen. “Or at least a company, ready to do battle. If their scouts find us, we’re dead.”

Kel frowned. Surely the sparrows would have reported an army. She and her people spread out in the woods and rode up the hill ahead, ears straining for the faintest sound. A hundred feet from the crest Kel and the others dismounted, leaving Tobe with the horses. As they crept through the undergrowth towards the peak in the land, the road barely visible on their right, she realized that the dogs were also relaxed and comfortable. They trotted gleefully through the brush, pouncing on hidden mice, acting not at all like her fierce scouts and defenders.

Slowly and carefully the humans crawled the last yards to the break in the ground and peered over. Neal and Owen went pale and made the Sign against evil on their chests. Dom made the Sign as they did, but his frown indicated puzzlement, not fear. Kel was the last to find a spot from which she could see into the small valley below. When she did, she noted forest, open fields, a small, ill-kept village on a creek, and the road. At the far end of the valley she saw Stenmun’s group, riding on for all they were worth.

“Where’s this army?” she whispered to Gil on her right.

“Milady - are you well? It’s there, across the road,” he said, pointing with a bony finger. “They’re at least two hundred strong, maybe more.”

Kel wondered if her bandit had cracked under the strain of fumbling through enemy territory. It startled her to see him giving her a similar look.

“Two hundred without the mages,” Neal added in a husky whisper. “Five mages, and they look like real trouble.”

Owen frowned. “Why are they here?” he wanted to know. “Are they on their way south? You’d think they’d be on the road if they are, not camped.”

“Their banners don’t flap,” said Dom, his brows knit. “We’ve a good wind, but their banners hang limp.”

Kel took her griffin-feather headband off. Suddenly she could see the army, sprawled and waiting on the road. Dom was right. Their banners didn’t fly on the wind.

She put the griffin band on. The army vanished. “It’s an illusion, lads,” she told them. “Just a village down there.”

“I hear them,” Seafas insisted. “I can smell their horses.”

“It’s a very good illusion,” Kel admitted, though it seemed the griffin feathers protected her from the part of the illusion that smelled, too. “But it’s an illusion. And Stenmun’s getting away.”

She got halfway to her feet. Neal yanked her flat. “Are you mad?” he demanded hoarsely. “I see their mages!”

Kel lifted her face out of dry leaves and dirt, blowing them out of her mouth and nose. If he wasn’t my friend, I’d hit him, she thought, wiping her hand over her nose. She yanked the feather band from her head and thrust it on to Neal’s.

He looked at the valley and turned beet red. “Oh,” he said, and slipped off the band. “Very well, then, it’s the best illusion I’ve ever seen.”

Dom surveyed the griffin feathers with thoughtful eyes. “Almost makes it worthwhile to raid a nest,” he murmured.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” replied Kel. “They’re nasty beasts.”

“Are you sure it’s an illusion?” asked Owen. “What if it’s an illusion that we’re hearing you and Neal say it’s an illusion? It could all be a fakement. We wouldn’t know until it was too late. If we’re smelling illusions, maybe we’re hearing them, too, and we’ll be chopped up before you can say ‘King Maggot’.”

Kel got to her knees. A headache brewed behind her eyes, and Stenmun was gone from view. “Since I don’t feel like going to every one of you and jamming this cursed itchy thing on to your faces, you’ll have to take my word for it,” she growled. “While we pick our noses the quarry’s getting away, and there’s still a village to worry about!”

This time Fanche, who had remained mercifully quiet until now, spoke. “There’s a village?”

Kel thumped her forehead with her fist. Dom gently pulled her arm down, then borrowed the griffin-feather band. He didn’t put it on, only laid it on his forehead. “Looks pretty dead. I don’t see movement, but there’s smoke coming from the bakehouse. There’s tools just lying about.”

“Jump, Nari,” Kel said wearily, sitting back. “Take some friends. See if anyone’s down there.” As they obeyed, Kel looked at her companions. “The sparrows and the dogs didn’t see it. That’s why they didn’t warn us,” she explained. “It’s a very good illusion -“

“Layered,” Neal remarked with a sigh of envy. He took the griffin-feather band from Dom and laid it above his own brows. “Beautifully detailed. Almost perfect. Putting enough power into the mages so another mage would believe they were real, now that’s brilliant.”

“If it was truly brilliant, the banners would flap in the existing wind,” retorted Dom.

“Probably figured we’d just see the army and run,” commented Fanche.