Arms-Commander (34 page)

Wualaf and Saryn rode near the front of the column, just behind the outriders, along a back road that wound back and forth in a sinuous path, generally leading to the northeast and presumably toward Tearan. The white-haired man had only one arm, but his dark eyes were bright, and his words were clear. They were also endless.

“…over the next hill are the apple orchards belonging to Mazias…best apples in the highlands, not that there are apples anywhere else in Lornth because where it's lower the brown rot gets to the trees…Mazias'll let you know about every tree in his orchards if you'll give him but one word, because after that you won't get in any more…”

Finally, when Wualaf paused to take a drink from his water bottle, Saryn asked, “Could you tell me about Tearan? Where we'll be fighting and what the ground is like?”

“Ah…yes…Tearan…there's been more fighting there than anywhere in Lord Spalkyn's lands, and that'd be because once there was a swamp there, and someone—perchance the Pantarans”—at that, the old man laughed before continuing—“they filled in the swamp, and it's better and more fertile than bottomland. You can still see the ancient stone courses in places, you know. Then, too, it might be as because it's off the old, old road through the hills to Rulyarth…and raiders can take that way without anyone seeing 'em…”

In time, the old forester got around to describing the terrain in detail. “…really not even a hamlet anymore, maybe six or seven cots on the rise, if you can call it that with the barns in the dell below 'em. That way, they're sheltered from the northwest winds. They can blow bitter-like, sometimes for an eightday or more…”

“Just seven cots? How many able-bodied men and women are there?”

“You figure maybe three–four to a cot, but they're farmers, not a one really knows one end of a blade from another. Any who didn't hole up or run got killed right quick. That doesn't count the folks got cots farther out in the fields or in the east orchards…”

“Do these marauders come in large bands?”

“Large enough to deal with folks who don't traffic much in arms.”

“Large enough?”
Why is it that all of Zeldyan's allies have so few armsmen and resources?

“Maybe a score, two sometimes.”

“How good are they with arms?”

“Good? Not all that good. They're not really armsmen, but if you can use a blade, and the other fellow can't, you don't have to be that good.”

Wualaf had a point, Saryn thought, but she hoped he was right about the level of ability of the marauders. She'd prefer not to have any casualties or losses, but that wasn't likely. Even the worst blades occasionally got fortunate, especially in a melee.

The afternoon got warmer, and Saryn's undertunic was soaked through well before mid afternoon, but she kept plying the old forester with questions and taking in the answers.

The sun still hung a good hand above the hills to the west when Wualaf said, “Tearan lies around the next bend in the road past this one. Once you get to the top of the rise up ahead, anyone there can see you.”

Given how low the rises were, that was understandable, but Saryn would have preferred a bit more warning. “Company halt!” She turned to Wualaf. “Is there any way to get closer without being seen?”

“Well…you might be able to go around the rise to the left, then through the maize fields there. Don't know as how they've got the rows running. Folks might not like their maize being trampled, but it's close to high enough…”

“Squad leader! Ready the guards. Hold until I return. If I don't, use your judgment to save Lord Spalkyn and his men.” Saryn eased the gelding off the road and alongside the hedgerow, if a tangle of plants and weeds barely neck high on the gelding could be called a hedgerow. She kept on until she could slip into the maize, riding along one of the wider rows between the plants, trying to keep her sleeves from getting held and ripped by the tough green leaves. She had to keep her head down, but she managed to rein up near the end of the field, where she could see some of Tearan. On top of the rise, two outlying cots were smoldering ruins, and the doors of the five others either hung open or had been ripped off their hinges.

From what Saryn could sense, Spalkyn and his retainers were barricaded in the largest barn, the one on the west end. Ranged in a circle around the structure were at least forty figures in motley garments and with weapons ranging from a cut-down pike to broadswords, hand-and-a-half blades, and even old cavalry sabres. Yet only four or five were mounted.

Where were all the mounts that Spalkyn had to have brought? And how had all those raiders gathered without horses? She tried to sense or see more. Several horses were in the barn, and she thought there might be others. She could also sense bodies everywhere, and more than a few of those were large enough that they could only have been horses.

She also sensed one figure, around whom was gathered a reddish white mist of chaos. She frowned. If the man were a chaos-mage, even a weak one, why hadn't he used his fire-bolts?

Then she sensed the sheep in the barn, along with the horses.
Of course…if they fire the barn, they destroy all the livestock.
They'd already looted the cots, but the livestock and mounts were far more valuable than most of the goods of the crofters. The situation was a standoff…for the moment. She forced herself to study all the buildings and where everything was located before she turned her mount back through the maize.

The detachment was waiting when she returned, although Saryn could sense the squad leader's unease…and Klarisa's relief when she caught sight of Saryn.

Saryn reined up. “Squad leader? You have ten archers?”

“Yes, ser.”

“We'll walk the mounts until we're almost in view of the marauders. They don't have any sentries posted. When I give the order, you and the archers move to a solid canter and stay on the road until you can circle and take the higher ground to the west. Don't worry about archers. I didn't see any bows, and if they have one or two, they won't have time to use them. As soon as you're in position, start firing. Once they break, stow the bows and block that end. If they don't break toward you, charge them, but we don't want any to escape if we can help it. The half of the squad with me will be riding more slowly, but directly toward them. We won't charge until they break or charge us. I'd like you to put as many shafts into them as you can.” Saryn looked to the young armsman with the regent's banner. “Once we begin the attack, you're to swing up to the high point on our flank, in a position where Lord Spalkyn and his men can see you clearly. The marauders will, also, and that might spook them more. Your task is to display the banner and defend it, and it's more important than it sounds, because, if anyone escapes, we need them to know that the regent's forces were here. We also need Lord Spalkyn to know that.”

“Yes, ser.” The young armsman's voice was even, but Saryn could sense both worry and relief.

In the momentary silence Wualaf's low murmur was clearly audible. “She hasn't even looked past the maize field.”

“The commander doesn't need to. She can see with more than her eyes,” said a guard in a low voice.

Saryn ignored both comments and looked to Klarisa. “Fourth-squad archers, lead off. Armsmen, you follow the archers, but take your time. We'll split when we reach the lane up toward the hamlet. Wualaf…best you stay behind the armsmen and the banner.”

“I can do that.”

For the next several hundred yards, Saryn could sense nothing, not that she expected to, but she was relieved when her force swung around the last bend and headed up the gentle slope. The marauders had moved closer to the end barn, and the chaos-mage was with them.

“Archers! Forward!” Saryn ordered. “Fourth squad, on me!” As she rode forward, slowly and deliberately, she drew one of her three blades. At the same time, she spent a moment concentrating on tracking Klarisa and her half of fourth squad.

So intent were the raiders on the barn and Spalkyn's men that Saryn had led the squad a good thirty yards toward the flattened area before the three barns before a single member of the motley crew turned. While Saryn and her guards rode another ten yards, the raiders just looked.

Saryn could sense that Klarisa and her archers were not yet in position. So she raised her hand and reined up.

“They're just boys with little blades!” called out someone.

“…can't do a thing…”

“…not real men…”

“…what you going to do, boys?”

Abruptly, the shafts from the archers began to strike.

Four or five of the raiders went down before anyone began to react. Then a short man mounted on a gray with a pair of sabres waved one in the air. “Get the pretty boys!” He turned his horse and started toward Saryn and the guards.

Saryn waited until the sabre-wielder was closer, hardly ten yards away, before she threw the blade, smoothing the flows and drawing a second blade. The short sword slammed through the man's chest, and he staggered, gaping at the blade, before he lurched forward in the saddle, then sideways, half off his mount, his leg caught in a stirrup and his body dragging the gray to a halt.

“Archers! Hold your fire!” Saryn ordered, letting the order flow amplify her command. “Company! Forward!”

For the next few moments, everything seemed a blur to Saryn as she tried to keep her eyes and senses on the mounted raiders, and those on the ground, who could unhorse a guard by striking at the legs of the mounts.

She parried and cut, slashed and parried, working her way toward the barn.

Hssst!

Fire flared by her, so close that she felt her short hair had nearly crisped from the chaos-flame—and that only her residual hold on the order and chaos flows and her continuing movement had saved her from being charred. Glancing around, she realized that the chaos-mage had escaped the fray in the barnyard and was standing on the edge of a loading dock on the east end of the barn, gathering and concentrating more chaos.

At the same moment, another marauder charged at her.

Saryn angled the gelding toward the other rider, parried his wild swing, then slipped the blade and back-cut. She could sense the pain of her cut, perhaps because she was so close, and it disoriented her for a moment, but she turned the gelding just in time to see and sense a chaos-fire-bolt flaring toward her.

Somehow, she managed to smooth and shift the chaos flows so that the small fire-bolt sputtered into a section of bare ground. Immediately, the chaos-mage concentrated, and a second fire-bolt arched toward Saryn and those members of fourth squad behind her. With the speed of the fire-bolt, Saryn was pressed even to divert it slightly, and it slammed into the ground before her, close enough that she could feel the heat for a moment.

How could she strike back? She had no idea of how to throw order or chaos. But…iron…cold iron, didn't that work against the white mages? Yet…she was a good forty yards from the mage, and she was tired.

She tried to hold to her sense of the order and chaos flows around her, then urged the gelding directly toward the white mage. For a moment, the man just looked at her. Then an even smaller firebolt wobbled toward Saryn, but she managed to “angle” the flows so that the chaos slid to the ground on her left side. The mage jumped from the loading dock and started to run.

Whether he was running or not, Saryn didn't care. As soon as she was within ten yards, she released her second blade. Tired as she was, the blade only took him in the shoulder, but fire flared from around where it had penetrated. In moments, all that remained was a charred corpse.

Saryn scrambled to unsheathe her last blade, but when she turned the gelding, she discovered that there was no immediate need.

Several raiders had scattered, and one was riding up the slope to the northeast, spurring his mount for all he was worth. The rest were either dead or wounded, from what Saryn could see. Klarisa was crossing the barnyard, and Saryn didn't even recall seeing the squad leader bring the other half of the squad into the melee.

The squad leader reined up. “We've got a good half score wounded here, ser. The raiders, that is. We've some slashes and cuts, but nothing too serious—except for Larya. She took a pike. Must have ripped open something. She bled to death before the fighting was over.”

Saryn winced. Even dealing with marauders who didn't know that much about blades, there were casualties. She hadn't considered that a ragged marauder would know how to use a pike against a rider, and she'd have to watch for that in the future—and go over it with the guards and squad leaders. “Bind up the captives' wounds quickly, those you can. We'll leave what's done after that up to Lord Spalkyn. We can't care for them beyond now, and they're on his lands. I'll tell him.”

Klarisa glanced past Saryn toward the barn, where a man of moderate size wearing a breastplate over a dark tunic stepped away from the armsmen there, who had followed him out into the yard filled with bodies.

Saryn counted eleven men.
Eleven left out of a score.

The heavyset lord walked tiredly toward Saryn, the broadsword not completely into the shoulder scabbard. As he neared her, he pulled off the antique helm, revealing a short and full brown beard. “Our thanks, Captain…” He broke off as he took in Saryn's face and the twin-bladed shoulder harness. “Who…you…with the banner, I expected…”

“The Lady Zeldyan sent us with her banner, Lord Spalkyn. There wasn't time to explain. I'm Saryn, the Arms-Commander of Westwind.

“We've been accompanying the Lady Regent on visits to holdings…We did leave most of a Lornian squad at your holding with the regent and your consort, just in case the attack here was a feint.” Saryn paused for just a moment. “Is it better to hold here or return?”