Battle Magic (41 page)

Why am I surprised? he wondered as he pulled off his boots. They’ve been circling around each other since we met up near the border. And it’s Parahan. If I was
damohi,
I’d give Parahan the eye myself.

Am I worried she’ll decide to stay here? Because she won’t. She doesn’t love the plants here like the ones back home; she hates the emperor; Gyongxe doesn’t have near enough trees, and I don’t think she’d ever let go of Lark.

He was still trying to decide what his feelings were when he fell asleep.

By the time she left Parahan’s tent at dawn, Rosethorn felt more normal than she had in some time. Evvy’s loss remained an ache deep in her heart, but overall Rosethorn felt as if her body was her own once more, not a puppet that moved at the directions of the Treasures and the priests of the Sealed Eye. For the first time, with Parahan, she had not heard the faint whispers that had been in her mind since she took charge of the Treasures.

He’d been every bit the lover she had hoped, too, humorous and caring, attentive without smothering her. His queen, whoever he chose one day, would be a lucky woman. She sent a prayer up to Mila of the Fields and Grain that he would find someone who could appreciate him.

They had deliberately not spoken of the war all night. Now Rosethorn’s awareness of it returned as she greeted her friends in the camp. Everyone was up and preparing to move, packing the tents and loading supply animals and wagons. Briar must have gone to breakfast, she decided when she walked into their tent. His gear was ready. Only his armor and her own lay out. Her
things, of course, had not been touched since she had put them in the tent last night.

She could hear the creaks and groans of thawing ice and snow in the mountains as the thin sunlight warmed everything. Somewhere closer a horse grumbled deep in his chest. She frowned. It seemed too far away to be one of their own horses. Had they sent out scouts, or were these enemy spies? She cursed the day she’d touched the Treasures. The lingering effects made her life so confusing. Namka of the Sealed Eye said they would wear off in time. The problem was that his idea of time seemed to be very relaxed by her standards.

She was struggling with her armor when Briar returned from breakfast. Seeing his knowing smirk and realizing he knew where she’d spent her night, she cocked an eyebrow, daring him to give her sauce about it. Only once had he questioned her right to choose sleeping partners as she wished. They’d had a nice talk about choices being between someone and that someone’s lover, and there had been no more discussion. She had only had to lightly slap the back of his head for foolishness once.

Apparently Briar remembered their talk, because all he said was, “Did you have breakfast?”

“Spicy eggs and rice with that puffy white flatbread,” she said. “I think my eyes are still watering from the chilies.” She shook her head. Her mouth was still burning a little. “It wakes me up better than tea, though. You could have joined us. Parahan and Souda asked where you were.”

Briar shrugged. “We had mushroom pancakes over at Riverdancer’s fire — very nice.” He saw her struggle with the side lacings of her cuirass. “Here, I’ll manage that, and you tie
mine.” She lifted her arms so he could see better. As he tightened the woven silk cords he inhaled and murmured, “I smell sandalwood.”

She slapped his head lightly. “I smell impudence.”

Once she had tied Briar’s armor for him, she gave him one of the cloth bags she had prepared while he slept like a statue the day before. “I was able to bring some of our thorn plants to full seeding growth to stock us up again. I wasn’t exhausted as you were. Of course, I didn’t send my magical self halfway to Yanjing and try to fight a battle that way.”

“Complain, complain, complain,” Briar muttered as he tucked the bag into the sling he hung over his chest. She knew he had spare rocks and squares of cloth in it, as she did in hers. They could create more thorn balls in the saddle if all remained quiet this morning.

“No, caution, caution, caution,” she retorted. It was an old argument between them. “We aren’t invulnerable, and you won’t avenge Evvy if you’re dead as well.” She turned away. “I don’t want to tell Lark I lost you.” The absence of Evvy throbbed like the loss of a tooth. The loss of Briar would be so much worse. If anything happened to him that she could have prevented, she didn’t know how she would live with it. Jimut poked his head into the tent. “If the honored
prebus
will come out, I will pack you up,” he said cheerfully. “Their Highnesses want to ride soon, and we’re at the front today.”

Once they were packed up and riding, Rosethorn found herself near the very head of their group where Parahan and his guards rode. She had Riverdancer, her translator, Briar, and Jimut for company. Souda and the western chief called Glacier Cracks
each took fifty volunteers and split off, Souda going east, Glacier Cracks riding west. They were scouting to see if they could find any stray Yanjingyi raiders. They had promised to catch up with their northbound comrades sometime during the afternoon.

Rosethorn heard Briar and Jimut sigh enviously as they watched Souda go. “Don’t be so eager to find battles,” she warned them, not wanting to mention the soft grumble she heard from very far in the north, near the ceaseless temple horns and gongs of Garmashing. “There will be enough for everyone eventually.”

“This is just march, march, maybe a squabble, healing, and then more marching,” Briar explained. “Why don’t they just settle down and
fight
?”

Parahan overheard. “Why should they, if they can tire us out first?”

Rosethorn, who had been through a few large battles, didn’t tell Briar she was just as happy to put off the next one. She knew he would think her spiritless. He was young.

They halted to water the animals and to eat a midday meal, albeit a cold one. Glacier Cracks and his people returned halfway through the afternoon. They had found an empty village and a fortified temple with its gates locked and armed warriors on its wall. They had not seen any sign of the enemy between the road and the Tom Sho River.

Rosethorn and Riverdancer, through her translator, struck up a conversation about healers’ spells. Rosethorn was getting some interesting ideas from the shaman. The conversation also distracted her from the nagging question: Where were Souda and her fifty riders? Had they found trouble east of the main road?
Troops on their way to join whatever was making that noise so far ahead?

The afternoon dragged. The sun inched down with no sign of the eastern group. With the wind blowing from the north, the pesky leftover effects of the Treasures gave Rosethorn no sign of whether there was an army in the east or not.

She was better able to hide her fidgets than were Briar and Parahan. The men of Souda’s company who had not gone with her grew even testier with the passage of time. Leaving the column to ride back to the water barrels, Rosethorn saw that the healers were preparing for wounded, piling their supplies on the sides of their wagons so they could lay a few of the injured flat. Refilling her water flask, she noticed how very quiet everyone was, even the tribal warriors. The temple soldiers had prayer beads out and were softly chanting as they marched.

When she rejoined Riverdancer and her translator, she saw that several Kombanpur warriors were talking with Parahan. One of them waved his arms and shouted.

“They want to go search for the missing. Lord Parahan says they’re fools to ask.” Jimut translated the Banpuri for them. “He says if the lady and her people are taken, any searchers will be captured, too.”

The sun’s edge had touched the distant peaks when Rosethorn saw Riverdancer look to the east. A hill stood between them and anything that might be going on, but when the shaman reined up, Rosethorn did as well. Within a moment everyone heard the drawn-out blast of a battle horn, not one of the Gyongxin horns.

“Jimut?” Briar asked.

“Enemies!” Jimut said, reaching for his crossbow. “Er — do you want me to use a sling?”

Rosethorn shook her head. If the enemy came over the hill, or even around it, their chances were too good that the balls would roll back to the Gyongxin troops. “Not this time, I think,” she said. “Too risky.”

Briar could see what she saw. “What, then?”

“Off the road on the left,” she told him. “We’re healers today.” She turned and waved her arm over her head to let the columns of Banpuri warriors know she wanted an opening in the road, a split in their numbers. Slowly, with perfect discipline, they opened a corridor for her.

To the east, soldiers galloped into sight along the shoulder of the hill. These were their people, clad in the earth-colored tunics of the western tribes or the armor of the Realms of the Sun and Gyongxe. Some of them barely clung to their saddles. Others were riding double.

“This way!” she cried, backing her horse down the opening between the soldiers at her back. The healers would come to her, as they had discussed in planning as they rode.

“This way!” yelled Briar. Riverdancer, her translator, and Jimut were shouting the same thing in their own languages. There was a ripple among the eastern edge of the column of soldiers: They beckoned the galloping soldiers to them. Behind their racing allies came the enemy, several hundred Yanjingyi swordsmen and archers.

Rosethorn grabbed one of their wounded as he came through the opening in their front ranks, dragging him across her saddle
with a care for the arrow that jutted from his back. A soldier ran forward to seize the reins to the wounded man’s frantic horse. Briar grabbed the bridle of the next mount. The rider was able to stay upright; she had a sword cut that bled into her eye.

Healers ran forward to take Rosethorn’s wounded soldier from her saddle. “Carefully,” she cautioned them. “He’s got an arrow in his back.” They nodded and carried the soldier facedown to a wagon.

Rosethorn looked for Briar. He had turned his mount over to a soldier and kept his medicine packs. He began to examine those with lighter injuries as they came in, mostly cleaning sword cuts. Riverdancer’s translator stood beside him, a roll of bandages in her hand.

One by one everyone on the opening in their lines caught one of the wounded and guided them to the healers. Once they were relieved of their charges, they returned for more wounded, if any came, and to fight. The Yanjingyi archers were raining crossbow bolts into their ranks.

Rosethorn glanced at the returning warriors who rode to Parahan. One was a dusty Soudamini. She held a bloody sword, but showed no injuries herself. She spoke rapidly to her twin as the small army’s archers shot into the oncoming enemy troops.

Rosethorn turned at the sound of a cry and ran to help two wounded on one horse as they came through the opening in the lines. The air around her filled with the sergeants’ yells for archers to take aim, then shoot. After that she was too busy to keep track of what took place along the battle lines.

As a plant mage who had also studied healing, she had learned her fair share of basic surgery. Riverdancer came to help as she
began to remove arrows from the flesh of the wounded. It was nervous work. To stay calm, Rosethorn focused only on her assistants. She had been known to cut while a temple was falling down around her. It was a useful skill to have that day. They had no sooner cared for Souda’s wounded when those hurt in the more recent fight with the Yanjingyi soldiers began to come in.

Finally Rosethorn stopped to catch her breath. She hadn’t realized that it was already dark. Someone shoved a large pottery mug of tea, heavily buttered and sweetened, into her hand. She gulped it thirstily.

“How are you managing?”

She looked up and blinked at Souda. “Well enough.” Her voice came out a croak. “How goes the fighting?”

Souda shrugged. “The enemy has retreated to the other side of this ridge. Parahan split his warriors. Half of the archers are up there.” She pointed to the top of the hill. “They have them pinned down, I think, but it’s too dark to tell…. What’s that?”

Over the hill a greenish light bloomed brightly enough to show the archers Souda had mentioned. Rosethorn finished the mug of tea, forcing herself to stay calm. That green light was mage work. None of the mages in their small army was capable of that kind of spell and neither she nor Briar did magic that cast a light.

“I’ll go look,” she heard Briar say. “If they have willow or oak or gingko on them, I’ll put a stop to that.”

“Briar!” she cried, but he’d taken a saddleless horse and ridden off around the side of the hill. The hill itself was too steep for a rider.

They were bringing another wounded victim from the
battlefield. This one had a gash down his chest. If she didn’t clean it and get it sewn, he would die of infection. She could treat these people, or she could go after her boy.

An open sword cut that bared ribs had to come first. Briar was sixteen and a man in the view of the world. She raised a prayer to Yanna Healtouch for the warrior before her and to the Green Man for Briar’s safety. Then she got to work.

Riverdancer sent her off much later; she didn’t know what time. No one had seen Briar. They promised to look for him if she would only rest. Rosethorn hesitated, but her hands were shaking; she needed food and a break. The tents were up, including one for the healers. She lay on a mattress there and told herself to wake in two hours, no matter how tired she might be.