Sovereign (47 page)

'We head south,' he said finally. 'If they have not moved we will surprise them by coming from the north. If they rode east, then we will come across their trail and may still have a chance of catching them. That's two out of three possibilities covered.'

Their horses had already been going for three straight hours. It was decided to rest them an hour before resuming. Galen ordered some of his riders to scout south and east, however, to try and locate the enemy early.

Although the horses could rest, their riders found it impossible. They strode up and down, they fidgeted with swords and gear, they checked and rechecked harness and saddle and reins and buckles and straps. It was frustrating for them, and their tension increased by the minute. When it was time to ride again, Galen made sure they still took it slowly, keeping the pace to an easy trot. Within an hour the first outriders were back from the south with the news that the enemy was still in place and had prepared barricades.

Galen, relieved the enemy had not escaped him, was still perplexed. 'What could they be doing?' he asked Charion.

'I have no idea, but if they're putting up barricades we're not going to be able to attack them by ourselves—at least not mounted—and I don't fancy going on foot up against Chett archers.'

'We'll worry about that when we get there,' Galen said. 'If the position is too strong we can send a message to Tomar to send some archers.'

Galen slowed down the pace. It was midafternoon before they met more of their scouts, one with a superficial arrow wound to the thigh.

'How far from their lines were you?' Galen asked him.

'About a hundred paces,' the scout said.

'They'd be effective at a hundred and fifty if the target was big enough, like a charging group of knights,' Charion said. 'God, I'd love to have a company of my archers with me just now.'

'I'd risk a charge if we still had our armour,' Galen confessed.

'Well, we don't, so you won't,' Charion said. 'We need reinforcements.'

'My lord!' cried one of the knights, pointing towards the forest itself.

'More Chetts!' Galen said. 'How many of them are here?'

'Twenty,' Charion said. 'If that's all of them, it makes it a troop in total. And look! Their leader! It can't be!'

Galen squinted to see as far as Charion, but there was no mistaking that white face. 'I don't believe it.' He glanced at Charion to make sure he was seeing what she was seeing. She nodded at him. 'I don't believe it,' he repeated numbly.

'We've got him!' she cried and kicked her horse's flanks. Galen lurched forward and grabbed her reins from her hands. 'What are you doing?' she demanded.

'Chett archers, remember!' he shouted at her. 'What did you think you were going to do? Play pin cushion for the enemy?'

Charion flushed with anger. 'How dare you—!' she started.

'I'm commander here, your Majesty,' he reminded her, his voice suddenly cold. 'And you are with us under my sufferance.'

For a moment it looked as if Charion would explode. The other knights carefully edged away from the pair. Safer to be shot at by Chetts than cursed at by Charion or Galen.

'Bugger!' she screamed in frustration.

Galen's eyes widened with surprise. He had heard her lose her temper plenty of times, but never control of her tongue.

'Steady on,' he said levelly.

She snorted through her nose like an angry bull, 'Sorry,' she said tightly. 'But it's
him
, for God's sake! Lynan Rosetheme! We can end it now, Galen, we can end the whole bloody war here and now!'

'Not by ourselves,' he said calmly. 'They're not going anywhere. If they try to escape, we'll slaughter them. But we can't take them behind that barricade, not without armour. We'll send for reinforcements from Sparro.' He signalled to one of the knights and said to him: 'Take three horses. Ride them into the ground if you have to. Get to Sparro by tomorrow. Tell Tomar what's happened. Tell him we need archers and heavy infantry. Tell Tomar we have Lynan trapped.'

'No need,' another knight said.

Charion and Galen looked up together. Coming from the east was a new column of riders, at least five hundred strong, and flying above them the pennant of Chandra.

Lynan did not give much for their chances when he saw his Chetts were outnumbered by the enemy three to one. For the moment, behind their earth and log barricades, they could hold them off, but eventually the enemy would arrive with archers and heavy infantry, maybe even some heavy cavalry, and it would all be over. He thought of retreating into the forest, but the Chetts told him the horses would not enter it; he thought they might now that Silona was dead, but when he tried to lead one mare in under the canopy he almost got his head kicked in for his trouble. He guessed the evil Silona had wrought in that place would outlast her by some years. Certainly, the pain she had caused him would last the rest of his life.

Absurdly, because he was with them, the Red Hands did not seem to be remotely worried. He was the White Wolf returned, he was the invincible king; it was the enemy that needed to be pitied.

'We have to break out,' he told Rosof. 'We have no choice. The enemy will bring fresh troops soon, and we will be trapped. Now is our only chance.'

Rosof nodded excitedly. 'Better to go on horseback than stuck behind some wall like this.'

'Order the troop to mount.'

Rosof relayed the command. There was a flurry of activity and in moments the whole troop was ready to ride out.

'We ride due north,' Lynan told them. 'If any of us are wounded, or our horses killed from under us, the others must go on. Some of us will get through.'

There was a spontaneous raggedy cheer from the Chetts, and Lynan felt his heart swell with pride that these rough riders from the Oceans of Grass would pin their future to his sorry ambitions.

'No,' he said. 'I was wrong. We leave no one behind. If anyone is wounded, the closest rider will take the reins. If anyone loses their horse, the next rider will take them up. We live or die together. I will not desert you again.'

This time the cheer was raucous. Lynan thought they must have heard it all the way back to Sparro.

'Your Majesty,' one of the Chetts said. 'More cavalry.'

The cheer died in all their throats. Lynan looked eastwards, saw the Chandra pennant and knew it meant the end for all of them.

'I am sorry,' he said, but so softly none of them would have heard him. There was no need for them to hear his despair. He looked down at his right hand. The broken wrist had healed completely. The burn from grasping the red hot hilt of his sword had not. It was a mess of blue-rimmed boils and bloody cuts. When Silona died, he had stopped healing like a vampire. He was again utterly, utterly human.

It could have happened at a more convenient time, he thought, but he could not help feeling relief he would die human and not something less, not something on its way to being like Silona.

All his Chetts were looking at him, expecting him to say something more. He could see in their eyes that it was not surrender they were expecting from him. 'Well, my brave Red Hands,' he called to them, 'today you will prove yourself the fiercest warriors on Theare. I promise you, your descendants will sing songs about today and your part in it.'

He turned back to the enemy. They could see what they were doing now and were manoeuvring to intercept them. 'I don't suppose anyone brought my banner?'

'Of course we bloody did,' Rosof said, and drew one from his saddlebag. As the troop's second-in-command, when Sunatay was still alive as commander, the pennant was his responsibility. He jumped off his horse, found a long, thin branch, and tied the pennant to it, then remounted and wedged the makeshift standard into his right boot.

'Well and good,' Lynan said, glancing over his shoulder to see the pennant catch the wind.

He raised his hand to give the signal to charge when something extraordinary happened. The fresh Chandra cavalry rode past the original unit, wheeled as if on parade to present their flanks to the Chetts, and continued on. One or two Chetts shot arrows, but for the most part they were too surprised to react. Finally the column stopped between the Chetts and the rest of the enemy, right wheeled and lowered their spears—against their compatriots.

Rosof cleared his throat. 'Your Majesty?'

To the unvoiced question, Lynan could only say: 'I have no idea what is going on.'

'What in the name of God are they doing?' Galen demanded as the Chandra column swept past them then changed course to place themselves in front of the enemy. When they dropped their spears—in his direction—Galen did not know what to say. The rest of the knights started speaking all at once in sheer amazement. Charion said nothing, but she bowed her head, not wanting to believe what was happening.
Tomar tried to tell me
, she thought.
He tried to tell me
.

One rider broke ranks from the Chandran cavalry and rode towards them. He carried no weapon except for a long sword strapped to his back.

'That's Barys Malayka,' Galen said.

Barys drew up in front of Galen and Charion. His expression was grim.

'What is the meaning of this, sir?' Galen demanded. 'We have the enemy cornered here, and it is led by the traitor prince himself. Why do you hinder us instead of help us?'

Barys scratched his nose. 'It isn't straightforward, I'm afraid, Galen Amptra. But the crux of the matter is that Tomar II, king of Chandra, has thrown his lot behind Prince Lynan.'

Galen's jaw dropped in surprise.

'Why, Barys?' Charion asked, her voice subdued.

'It was a question of loyalty, your Majesty,' Barys replied.

Galen guffawed. 'Loyalty? He swore an oath to Queen Areava to serve the crown of Grenda Lear—'

'He swore an oath to Queen Usharna,' Barys interrupted. 'And to serve the best interests of the Kingdom. He believes he is best fulfilling that oath by supporting Lynan in his struggle against his sister.'

Galen's mouth opened and shut like a fish gasping for air.

'What is to happen to us?' Charion asked.

'You are to head for Kendra immediately. You have safe passage for three days and three nights.'

'And what happens to Prince Lynan?'

'He is now under my master's protection,' Barys said.

'We could end it all now,' Charion said urgently, leaning forward over her saddle towards Barys. 'Kill Lynan and the war is over.'

Barys shook his head. 'Civil war is never resolved so simply.' He retrieved a sealed letter from inside his coat and handed it to Charion. 'For Areava, from Tomar, explaining his decision.'

'No amount of explanation will rid him of his guilt,' Galen said.

'King Tomar feels many things about his decision, but guilt is not one of them.'

'This is a tragedy, Barys,' Charion said. 'This is a bloody tragedy.'

'I won't disagree with her Majesty,' Barys replied, 'but the tragedy started in the royal palace in Kendra and with the Rosethemes, not in Sparro and not with Tomar.'

'But—!' Galen started, and again Barys spoke over him.

'You only have three days and three nights. I would make use of it, starting now.'

CHAPTER 29

It was as if a god had marked the division between desert and pasture, between the land of the Saranah and the province of Aman, it was so clear. To the west of Makon the ground was yellow with salt bush and sand, the blue sky as hard as diamond, while to the east the ground was plush with grass and the sky was cut by distant, snow-capped mountains. The Chett army moved quickly to the east, unburdened by loot or guilt, the ruin of a whole people behind them. Makon could not begin to calculate how many Saranah had been killed, but was sure it would be easier to count the survivors than the slain. The Saranah had paid for their attack on the Oceans of Grass with virtual extinction.

And now it was the turn of Aman.

Eynon reined up next to him. 'No word from our scouts?'

Makon shook his head. 'This border does not seem to be guarded.'

'Why should they guard against the Saranah?' Eynon sneered. 'You don't post spears against your pet.'

'I think the way is clear to the first town.'

'Cleybin, wasn't it?' He searched his memory for the information the Saranah merchant had revealed before he died.

'Market town for trade with the Saranah.'

'Well, Aman will no longer need it then.'

'And after Cleybin?'

Eynon pointed to the mountains. 'Straight to them. Pila is up there somewhere.'

'It will be winter soon.'

'Then we had better get a move on. Remember, Makon, mobility is the key. As long as we keep ahead of the news of our arrival, we will always have the advantage. Aman is not expecting an attack from the west, and many of their warriors will be in the east to fight Lynan. Once we take Pila we can set down for winter, if need be.' He nodded to the long and winding column passing them, Chetts from a dozen different clans now working together as a single force, proud of their achievements and determined to do more. Makon could see in every face the determination to see through to the end this expedition of revenge. 'They will have earned a rest by then.'

The scouts reached Cleybin just after dark and carefully led the Chett column to it. For the last two leagues they dismounted, keeping one hand resting gently on their horses' noses, speaking to them softly, eyes and ears wide open for any hint of detection.

Like many small border towns, Cleybin comprised one main street ending in a market square, not much more than a cleared and levelled space, bordered by two-storey houses and stores and behind them warehouses and sheds. At the other end of the main street was a small garrison with maybe twenty soldiers to keep the local peace and act as tax collectors. In total, Cleybin was made up of about a hundred dwellings and four or five hundred people. The Chetts flowed around the town like floodwaters around a levee, cutting it off completely. Most continued on in the dark, heading east, but Makon, his Red Hands and another five hundred Chetts stayed behind, resting until just before dawn.