Lady Knight (22 page)

You know he’s right, a second part of her insisted. Maggur does like to hit more than one target at a time. You saw that last summer. It’s a good strategy for him; it forces us to split our armies, and it frightens us, not knowing what else he’s up to. And now he’s got armies of his own to do it with, so he can cause greater harm.

Kel turned Hoshi and rode back along the Giantkiller road. She wanted to see if the raiding party had left any trailsign that had not been destroyed by Eighth Company’s passage.

The sparrow Duck peeped and bounced into the grass. He returned to her with a ragged twist of bright red yarn. Kel’s heart bumped in her chest. It looked like it came from Meech’s rag doll.

Kel stared at the yarn, bright against her dirty palm, then tied it around her right ring-finger. That done, she turned Hoshi and rode back to Haven, Jump, his crew of dogs, and the sparrows swirling around her.

The graves were finished by dark. While the convicts made supper outside Haven’s ruined gate, cooking flatbread and some ducks and chickens, Kel and the other soldiers buried their dead, murmuring prayers as they filled the graves first with the bodies, then with dirt. The Scanran corpses they laid on a pyre on the far side of the river and burned. Kel was the only one to pray for these men, sent by their king to die so far from home.

Back at Haven, they washed their hands in a cistern, now that there was no need for an emergency supply of water, then went to eat. After supper everyone sat around the fire and told stories of the fallen. Their best whittlers cut the names into the planks that would serve as headstones.

Kel prowled, unable to sit. She walked through Haven, going in and out of buildings. She half expected the missing to crawl out from under the floors and shout “Surprise!” when they saw her. She climbed to the upper walkway, where she listened to the woods peepers and considered plans. Was this the moment the Chamber had spoken of, when her path to Blayce the Gallan became clear? She hoped it was, because she was about to destroy all she had worked for to recapture her people. If she could. She was only one person. She wasn’t god-touched, as Alanna the Lioness was. But she had to try, because she couldn’t live with an obedient return to Mastiff, leaving her people to the Scanrans. She had promised to keep them safe. She had failed at that, but she must not fail to bring them home.

It was fairly simple, put in those terms. There were a few complications. Connac and Hevlor, their men, and the convicts who had ridden with Merric that day: they had to reach Mastiff and safety, or at least, as much safety as any part of the north offered this summer. Jump and his friends would follow her, but she must talk to the sparrows and see if some of them would act as lookouts for Connac and Hevlor, to make sure they weren’t ambushed. And she would have to time her departure very carefully. She couldn’t leave tonight. Hoshi wouldn’t fit in the hidden tunnel, and Kel needed a horse. More than anything she wished she had Peachblossom, but she would have to manage without him. She also didn’t want to keep these soldiers here, searching for her, when they should be safe at Mastiff. She would have to give them the slip on the road. That meant she would lose more precious time riding back to pick up the trail on the Giantkiller road.

You’re going to take them all by yourself, are you? jeered part of herself. Just you, your glaive and some ragtag dogs and birds.

I’ll think of something when I see what I’m up against, she told that part firmly. I can’t plan with no information. Once I know more about their numbers and how far we must go to reach safety, then I’ll worry about how to do it.

And Tobe. She would break her promise to him. She would disappear.

All she could do was pray he would understand. Surely he’d know that she had to try to recapture his friends, to keep them from Blayce.

So many things could go wrong. If she were caught by Tortallan patrols, she’d be sent to Corus in chains and put on trial for treason. If she were caught by Scanran patrols or war parties she would be cut to pieces. She would have to go quickly and silently. She had to pray that her reckoning with Blayce wouldn’t be scuttled by an overeager trooper or a killing device.

At Fort Mastiff the next afternoon, Sergeant Connac finished his report and waited. Sweat rolled down his face. Sergeant Hevlor, at his side, was sweating, too. Both men, hardened veterans who feared very little, dared not move.

“Surely I misheard,” Wyldon said quietly, his voice as crisp as a late frost. “I could have sworn you just informed me that Lady Keladry of Mindelan is not with you.”

“She said she heard sommat in th’ woods, milord,” Connac replied, staring over Wyldon’s head. “She told us she’d check it out and catch up down the road. On’y down the road never came, no more than she did.”

Wyldon rested his head in his hands and called himself seven kinds of idiot. He knew her better than anyone but Raoul of Goldenlake. If he hadn’t been preoccupied… Mithros curse him, it had been right under his nose. He knew the chit, knew that once she’d taken up those refugees, she’d guard them with her last breath.

The office door slammed open, admitting the guest who had come while he had been at Haven. “Please say what the Haven men just told me isn’t true.” Lord Raoul’s voice was a rumble in his chest. “Please tell me Kel did not go haring off on her own.”

“I can’t tell you that, Goldenlake, because she cursed well did,” snapped Wyldon, upset enough to break the leash on his own contained temper. “Eighteen combat veterans can’t keep their eye on one green knight!”

“She ordered us on, milord,” protested Hevlor. “We can’t disobey an order from a noble, and she didn’t look at all odd…”

Wyldon’s cold stare silenced him.

Raoul crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you men excuse us.” Despite the phrasing, it was not a request. The sergeants fled, pulling the door shut after them. Once they were gone Raoul spoke again, his voice ominously soft. “I thought you knew her. Did you believe she would let them take her people? And yet you left her, just told her to bury the dead and report here… I’d've wrapped her in chains and brought her back over her horse. This is the girl who risked having to repeat all four years as a page to find her maid.”

“Gods all bless, Goldenlake, you think I don’t know I made a mistake?” Wyldon asked. He sat back with a sigh. “I wasn’t thinking. I had a dozen things on my mind. You would have too, in that spot. Mithros! All those killing devices just thrown away for a refugee camp? I was sure it had to be a diversion.”

“If it was, then our information about next week’s attack here is wrong,” Raoul informed Wyldon. “No, Haven was another matter entirely. Five hundred odd slaves will fuel a lot of iron monsters, don’t you think?”

“I know I erred,” Wyldon said through numb lips. “You’re not saying anything I don’t know.”

Raoul shook his head. “If she dies, Mithros forgive you. I never will,” he informed the other man. He walked out of Wyldon’s office.

Instead of returning to his room, Raoul wandered the grounds of Fort Mastiff. He was looking for the two squads who had come here with him as guards. They were sparring in the practice grounds between Mastiffs first and second walls.

Subtly, Raoul hand-signalled Dom to gather his squad and meet Raoul at the stable where their mounts were kept. As Raoul trudged uphill through the gate in Mastiffs inner wall, he saw Dom stop by each of his men briefly. Raoul took a moment to talk to Mastiffs watch commander. Afterwards he returned briefly to his quarters, then ambled down to the stables, pausing now and then to chat. Dom and a few of his men casually drifted to the same destination.

By the time Raoul reached the stable where the Own’s mounts were housed, all of Dom’s squad was there. The men climbed to the loft, where they could talk in privacy. The stable was deserted, but Raoul took no chances.

“I have a mission for you lot, if you’ll take it, but it’s risky. Volunteers only. If anyone wants out when I’m done talking, I’ll understand,” he told them softly.

The men exchanged puzzled looks. Since when did the Knight Commander of the King’s Own give anyone a choice in duties?

“This isn’t a fight or a patrol,” Raoul continued. “It’s behind the enemy’s lines, I’ve no doubt - way behind.”

“We’re following Kel?” asked Dom eagerly.

The men looked from him to Raoul. “What’s this about milady?” asked Fulcher, one of the corporals. “We’ve heard nothing.”

Raoul looked at Dom, who shrugged. “I had to use the latrine,” he explained. “I overheard Connac and Hevlor in there.”

“As long as I’ve been soldiering, you’d think I’d know how fast word gets around,” Raoul commented ruefully. “Tell them.”

“The rest of the Haven burial detail got here safe,” Dom told the men. “They managed to lose Kel, though.” He looked at Raoul. “She went after her refugees, didn’t she?”

Raoul nodded. “Alone. I need volunteers -” Every man’s hand went up. Raoul smiled grimly. “Very well. Quartermaster’s people will leave packs with extra supplies here shortly. The story is, I’m sending you on to Northwatch with urgent messages for Vanget. Here’s a purse for bribes and road expenses.” He plunked a leather pouch of coins on the floor between him and the men. “Saddle up, get your gear, prepare for hard riding and combat. I doubt she’s reached the border yet if she’s following the refugees’ trail. I just spoke to a couple of the men who rode with her till she went off on her own. The refugees were taken along the Giantkiller road. She’ll follow that.” Raoul reached into his tunic and pulled out the maps he’d retrieved from his quarters. Placing them on the loft’s floor, he traced Kel’s probable route with a broad finger, showing the men where they might intercept her. “Or, if she’s moving faster than I think she can, just follow the refugees,” he said at last, passing the maps to Dom. “From what I heard, the Scanrans aren’t trying to hide - speed’s what they want.”

“The wagons’ll slow them down some,” remarked Corporal Wolset. “And I doubt those civilians will go quietly. They’re tough, and she’s been teaching them to fight. We’ll catch them.”

“But probably not this side of the border,” Raoul pointed out. “You’ll be in enemy country. Once you find her, take your orders from Kel and stay with her. Questions?” Dom’s men, combat and tracking veterans, shook their heads. Raoul nodded. “Then don’t waste daylight. Try to come back with her, and yourselves, in one piece. You know I hate training new men.” He stood with a grimace as his knees protested the movement. “Mithros bless you all. Go.”

“But that’s treason,” Merric protested, sitting up in his bed. Neal, Owen and two of Kel’s other year-mates, Seaver of Tasride and Esmond of Nicoline, had come to his room in Mastiffs infirmary to relay the news about Kel. “Deserting in the face of the enemy, that’s what they’ll call it. She’ll have destroyed her life, just for commoners.”

Neal frowned, but it was Owen, standing beside Neal, who said, “She cares about commoners.”

“And these were her people, that she promised she’d protect,” Neal added. “You know how she is. She’s been jumpy all summer, worried something like this would happen.”

“She was afeared,” a small voice remarked from the corner. The young knights and the squire turned. Tobe stood there, unnoticed until this moment. “She was dreaming all the time, talking in her sleep about slaves, an’ Blayce, an’ death magic.”

Neal’s jaw dropped. “The killing devices. She thinks the Scanrans took her people for this Blayce to use.”

“You can make a lot of killing devices with five hundred people,” Owen said quietly. “Or even just two hundred children.”

“She thinks she can retake them alone?” demanded Merric, his voice rising.

“She’ll try,” Neal said. “Even if she loses her shield.”

“Or her life,” murmured Owen.

“We can’t let her.” Seaver kept his voice low, so no one passing outside might hear. “She’s saved all our lives at one time or another. At the very least we can bash her on the head and bring her back. We’ll tell people the men got it wrong, she was ambushed by the enemy - I bet my lord won’t ask questions, if we move fast.”

“Are you mad?” whispered Merric. “Break your vows to the Crown? If you stay out too long, you’ll be guilty of treason, too.”

Seaver looked at him scornfully. “Nobody asked you to go,” he snapped. “And I know we’re talking treason here. That’s why we need to move fast.”

“I’m going,” Owen said.

The four knights stared at him and said, “No!”

A healer came to the door, her eyes flashing. “If you can’t be quiet, get out,” she told them. “I have people who need rest, including you, Sir Merric.”

“We’ll be quiet,” Neal promised her. “We’re sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll kick you out if it does,” she threatened. After a moment, she left.

“You’ll be twice forsworn if you try it,” Esmond told Owen. “Not only would you be a traitor to the Crown, you’ll break faith with my lord Wyldon.”

“I know,” Owen whispered;staring at the floor.

“Well, you see? It’s quite impossible.” Esmond looked at Neal. “I’m in.”

Neal smiled. “Thought so.”

Seaver nodded.

Smashing his fist into his blankets, Merric growled, “I’m still weak as a newborn lamb. If only we could wait a day or so -“

“We can’t,” Seaver pointed out. “Not if we’re to get her back soon enough that my lord will accept our story.”

Merric looked up at Neal, his blue eyes ablaze. “Tie me to my horse,” he said. “If you go without me, I’ll tell Lord Wyldon. Somebody ought to be there to chance bashing her on the head and fetching her home before it’s too late.”

Neal looked at his year-mates and Faleron. “You do realize we should all be put in a nice, cosy room somewhere with muscular people to keep us from harm?” When no one replied, he shook his head. “I’ll pack your gear,” he told Merric. “I think I can get us out the gate at dawn, just before the watch changes.”

None of them noticed that Owen and Tobe had left.

It was very late. The watch had called the hour not so long ago, “Midnight, and all’s well.”

Except all was not well, not by Tobeis Boon. The lady had broken her promise and vanished. He couldn’t fault her for going. He could and did fault her for going alone, without him to look after her. That was plain not right. Dogs and birds could only do so much for her. She would need him, particularly if she had to take enemy horses when Hoshi got tired. The lady was good with horses, for a noble, but she couldn’t talk to them as Tobe could. And if her helm-headed friends caught up with her, they might try to stop her unless she was warned. He supposed they meant well, but they were dead wrong. Bringing the lady back would save her, maybe, but what of Loey, Gydo, Meech and Saefas? What of Einur the cook, and Mistress Valestone, who was as kind as her husband was mean, or Gil and the other convicts? Neither the lady nor Tobe would let them be killed or enslaved, not if they could reach them in time.

And it wasn’t like he would be missed.

While everyone was at supper, he collected a sack of food, a coil of rope, a couple of daggers, tree-climber’s spikes, a spear he’d cut down to fit his size and a compass. He’d watched the guards, and thought that he could get over the first wall and up the second if he moved fast once they passed him. Now, his supplies in a rough pack, he stood at the foot of a stair to the walkway around the inner wall. His sole regret was that he couldn’t fetch Peachblossom along. Peachblossom would be as good as a squad of soldiers. Moreover, he’d have made it possible for Tobe to reach her quickly.

He’d just set his foot on the stair when someone tapped his shoulder. “Not that way,” Owen of Jesslaw told him softly. “Come on.”

Wyldon was right. Owen eavesdropped diligently, and kept his mouth shut about what he knew. One of the first things he’d overheard was the location of the secret exit required by Daine and approved by Lord Wyldon. The entrance was set in the floor of the warhorses’ stable.

Around suppertime Owen found a chunk of lard and used it to grease the hinges on the escape hatch. Bit by bit he’d assembled all he’d need and hid it in an empty stall. Now he led Tobe to the stable, keeping to the shadows so the watch didn’t see them. No doubt he was being overcautious, since the watch’s attention would be on the land outside the fort, but Lord Wyldon had taught him to be thorough.

As Owen readied his own warhorse, Tobe saddled Peachblossom. Owen was glad to be spared that chore, though he was fairly sure the gelding would let him do it, if he explained matters carefully. Once the horses were ready, Owen slowly raised the large section of stable floor that was actually a gate. Unlike the escape tunnel at Haven, this one was large enough for horses to use, so Lord Wyldon could send couriers out while Mastiff was under attack.

Lantern in hand, Tobe led Peachblossom down first, then asked the gelding to keep going. He returned for Owen’s warhorse, a deceptively mild-looking liver chestnut stallion named Windtreader by Wyldon, who had given his squire a mount from his own stables. Owen called the big animal Happy. With lobe’s soothing hand on the reins, Happy allowed himself to be led through the tunnel. Owen gathered the last of the packs and his own lantern, then lowered the heavy piece of stable floor into place, letting it close without a sound. No one would know where they had gone, though Wyldon might guess.

The thought of his knight-master’s wrath didn’t upset Owen, although he knew he’d destroyed his own name and his chance to become a knight. Wyldon’s disappointment in him would cut far deeper, but there was no choice. Kel needed an army to get her people back. If Neal and the others caught up, that would be good, but at least Owen and Tobe could bring Peachblossom and Happy to what promised to be an interesting fight.

The grey light of pre-dawn was gilding the eastern hills when four young knights assembled with their mounts in the shadows near the inner gate. Esmond led Neal’s mount. Neal himself crept up behind the sergeant in charge of the watch, emerald fire quivering inside his closed fist. A touch of it would send the man into a half hour’s sleep, enough for Neal and his friends to make it out of Mastiff once he had done the same to the guards at the outer gate.

Neal stretched out his arm to shift sleep from his fingers to his victim. The guard turned to him and grinned. “Now, Sir Nealan, is that any way to treat a friend?” Sergeant Connac wanted to know. “I thought you got training in manners bashed into you before they’d give you a shield.”

Once matters were sorted out, they left the fort with no trouble whatsoever. Connac had told Mastiffs guards that all they had to say to Lord Wyldon was that Sir Nealan had ordered them to open up. Who were they to question a group of nobles? All their group’s plans for secrecy now looked silly, but Neal didn’t mind. This way there was no risk that someone would note their odd behaviour and sound the alarm. When they rode through the outer gate with Connac, they found his squad and the six convict soldiers left from Haven’s fall ready to go with them.

“Don’t worry about it, milord,” Connac assured Neal, seeing chagrin on his face. “Us soldiers just see things simpler than you noble folk. We don’t let our plans get too complicated.” Neal was grateful then for the faint light; it hid his blush. It was a lesson he’d remember all of his life, or at least, he would remember it if he survived this particular venture.

As they rode out, no one noticed as three Stormwings perched in trees close to Mastiff took to the air. They soared high overhead, following them up the Vassa road.

13
FRIENDS

Not until she reached four puddles of molten iron surrounded by Stormwing-ravaged bodies did Kel wake up to the fact that what she was doing was insane.

Her lips quivered as she dismounted to inspect the scene, her eyes stinging. Twice, she thought as she crouched beside the dead. She had failed her people twice: once by being away when the enemy had come for them, and once by riding off to their rescue alone.

She looked up, blinking away tears, and surprised herself with a strange giggle. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but the giggles bubbled insistently in her throat. How could she think she was alone? After all, she had a horse, a flock of small birds, Jump and twelve motley dogs, and ten cats.

“This isn’t a rescue,” Kel whispered. “It’s a joke.”

She could still turn back and tell Lord Wyldon she’d come to her senses. He might let her off easy if she returned soon. He was a commander; he knew that losing so many people could make anyone run mad.

She straightened. About to take the reins and mount Hoshi again, she glimpsed something that was not a shredded soldier’s corpse at the far side of the road. She lifted her glaive from its rest and went to investigate. It was a heap of clothing. From the feel as she prodded it with the butt of her glaive, it covered a civilian’s body. She approached, holding the glaive point down in case this was someone pretending to be dead. Kel reached out with her free hand and tugged on the clothes. The body rolled over.

Though animals had fed on the dead woman, the Stormwings hadn’t touched her. The earth had protected her face. Gently Kel brushed the mud away. Through the dirt, bloat and darkening of dead flesh, Kel recognized Hildurra, Zamiel’s assistant clerk and one of Fanche’s best friends. From the caked places on the dead woman’s clothes, Kel guessed that she had taken a number of wounds during the attack, and had bled dry as the raiders fled. There were healers among the refugees, but Kel guessed the enemy hadn’t allowed them a halt to care for the wounded. When Hildurra died, the Scanrans had thrown her aside like so much rubbish and ridden on.

Kel sat back on her heels. The icy grip of rage settled around her heart once more. I can’t even bury her, she thought. I can’t slow down at all if I’m to catch them before they kill any more of my people. Before they give the children to Blayce the Gallan. I’ll free them, somehow.