Nearly a half-mile away, the remaining troop shuddered to a stop
and looked behind them. The sound struck them as it passed, and
at its origin was the fading light of what they knew in their hearts
was Lorry’s last stand.
“Move out!” Ahren called to Toady and Quiet. “Let
us use the time purchased so dearly.” The three instantly
spurred their mounts onward once more. The ground remained rocky,
and provided good cover for the remaining two hours as they closed
on Alquabar. When the rocks diminished and the land flattened somewhat,
Ahren spied the track that led towards the city. She took it without
pause.
“We must needs proceed with due caution, Ahren,” suggested
Toady. He was eyeing the tree line into which they were traveling. “We
have not achieved the chapterhouse as yet.”
“Very well, Quiet can take… Ah, hell, can’t
we catch a break?” Toady glanced quickly forward as her words
had died off. Before them, out of the tree line cantered a familiar
armor-clad man on a gray destrier.
“Baron Temmerlin,” called Toady, stopping his mount.
Ahren and Quiet followed suit. “I see you there. Do we parley?”
“Baron Haldin, Lord of Alinar,” the knight intoned,
nodding his armored head. “Thou knowest I am under oath which
precludes any parley.” Ahren and Quiet looked carefully at
Toady. In a softer tone he addressed the women. “Thou must
needs take a straight-east path and skirt yon tree line. There
do be a road by which farmers gain access to the city a mile hence.
Ye both must be swifter than the falcon. Do not stop, do not slow.
The Baron will have men in the forest so go quickly. Good luck
my companions. May it be Fortune’s grace that we meet again.”
“Good Luck ‘Baron,’” Ahren said gravely.
Quiet also nodded her head silently, still unused to the miraculously
healed tongue in her mouth.
“Ride!” hissed the Baron as he spurred his mount
forward. Temmerlin matched his pace, drawing his bastard sword
and preparing for the pass. The two women whipped their already
exhausted mounts into a furious all-out run for the dirt road Toady
had informed them about. Temmerlin gave but the slightest glance
for the two women.
Toady closed with Temmerlin; as they neared each gave a ringing
blow and sparks shot from the contact of blade on blade. Both horsemen
whirled about and again blades lashed and swirled. The skirling
clash of weapons drew foot soldiers from the tree line. They watched
open-mouthed as the two warriors feinted, swung, thrust and parried
with the huge swords. Both sat their horses with practiced ease,
their horsemanship a testament to their upbringing. Toady’s
mount skipped to one side at his slight knee pressure, narrowly
avoiding a whistling slice at his torso.
“Thou hast lost none of thy skills, I deem,” stated
Temmerlin. “I am glad of it, for it has been my wont to test
blades with thee.” Temmerlin swung a backhand strike at Toady.
Toady ducked beneath it, lashing out to give a non-threatening
blow to Temmerlin’s grieve. But his intent was successful,
for the blade nicked the leather strap securing the other man’s
stirrup. Toady smiled and drew back some.
“Dost thy blows grow weak, Baron?” Temmerlin sat
his horse with complete equanimity. Toady figured to goad him a
bit.
“How fares thy lovely daughter, Isolde, Temmerlin?” This
had immediate effect, and Temmerlin kicked his horse forward, but
Toady evaded him. He whirled his horse out of range once more. “Last
I saw her she was bathed in sweat, breasts heaving, grinding, begging
for…” Toady was forced to flatten on his saddle and
then parry the backstroke that flicked from Temmerlin.
“It do be unseemly for thee to awake mine anger thusly.
You will answer for deflowering my child, Baron. For leaving her
with child and running as an uncouth stable boy might.” That
caused a momentary pause for Toady, he had not known of any child.
“I do not claim any child, Temmerlin,” said Toady
in all seriousness. “It would be scarcely believable since,
on my life, I never had relations with her. I am perhaps the only
man to have visited your household who had not. Know you so clearly
still that the babe was mine? Isolde gave her charms freely to
many men, Baron. Perhaps she has told you? The night I left she
was sating the hearty lusts of three knights in thy household.
I did not expect to find them there in my guest quarters, but the
vision was laid out before me in terrible tableau. I would have
diplomatically let it be had not Isolde bid me to join, Baron.
I refused. Her epithets were vile indeed! She promised to expose
me as having forced myself upon her person. Laughable. But with
three renowned knights, perhaps more, to corroborate her lies,
I would have been put to death to satisfy her whim. That is why
I gave up my land and Title Baron. For mere survival.”
“Thou dost cast lies in hopes of finding mercy from my
blade, Baron,” hissed Temmerlin. “But thou art doomed
for thy actions. Isolde be dead, murdered by a despicable assassin.
A knife bearing your crest was plunged into her breast as she slept
less than a week after you turned craven and fled. For shame! You
lie even now to save thy worthless skin.” With that the Baron
began an onslaught of renewed blows. Toady remained defensive and
shunted all strikes. But he was tiring, and Temmerlin was fueled
by the strength of fury. He whipped his horse to and fro, hoping
against hope the stirrup would give. But it was not to be. He caught
a swipe that cut through muscle and joint at his shoulder. The
sword fell from his grasp and he struggled to stay conscious and
astride his mount. He kicked his mount forward in an attempt to
escape and he separated from the melee with Temmerlin. He screamed
as the first arrow pierced his leg and pinned it to his horse,
which reared in pain. The second buried into his cantle. He never
saw nor felt the third which punched through his skull and felled
him.
Temmerlin stood over the body, then wordlessly turned his mount
and walked it back towards his men. “String him up for the
crows,” he said almost sorrowfully, much to the puzzlement
of his retainers. “Have the eastern flank report on the two
others who fled.”
Ahren and Quiet hit the tree line at full tilt, hugging their
horses’ necks. Ahren spied men in the trees, but they did
not slow. An archer presented himself, but Quiet aimed and sped
an arrow in a single fluid motion. The shaft rammed the man in
the chest and punctured his bone-cage. Ahren ran him down where
he stood. With that, they had been quick enough to punch through
the picket. A slight buzzing caused Ahren to flinch as an arrow
darted past her head. Quiet cried out and slumped, her bow falling
from her grasp. Ahren could not see the wound but took Quiet’s
reins at a run and led the horse towards the gates coming into
view past the trees. They achieved the road and then south gate
of the city a quarter-glass later.
Ahren reigned up just outside the gate. The City Guards posted
there had cocked crossbows at the ready as they hailed the two
women. “What goes, travelers? Why such haste for our walls?” Several
farmers cleared out of the way as they saw the arrow protruding
from Quiet’s right buttock. There was blood coursing down
her leg, dripping off her boot. Ahren steadied the pother woman
as she swooned.
“We are dispatched from Captain Padreic’s Cohort
in the West. We have critical information for Captain Asraithe ‘ere
he departs for Tellaria. We must achieve the chapterhouse!”
“What happened to your companion?” The man’s
eyes narrowed.
“We were beset by brigands out for rape or robbery, whatever
their choice. One of our party is there still but I fear him lost”
“How far?”
“Just beyond the dirt wagon track; out in the rocky terrain
some few miles from here. I implore you, brother; let us pass to
the Chapterhouse!” Something in Ahren’s voice convinced
the man and he motioned for the bar to be raised and for his men
to make way. The blonde-braided soldier pulled Quiet bodily over
her saddle – facedown – and kicked her mount forward,
trailing Quiet’s lathered, soaking wet beast. Her quick gaze
picked out a clear path amongst the thronging crowd. Behind her,
she heard the City Guard mustering to sally beyond the walls. She
dug in her heels and the horse bolted through the crowded street.
Her coming to the chapterhouse was heralded by the shouts and curses
of those her horse shouldered bodily out of the way. A detachment
of city guard was trying unsuccessfully to catch up to her. She
paused only briefly at the gate before shouting hoarsely at the
helmeted heads peering at her through arrow-slits and the portcullis.
“You there!” she yelled at the Sergeant of the Guard. “In
the name of Captain Padreic open the gate! I am come with news
of events to the West!”
“I know thee not, girl,” said a voice from behind
the Sergeant. Ahren could not see him but he had the air of command
about him. “And thou dost not wear the colors of thy unit.”
“Sir, I am come with a message for Captain Asraithe,” she
was past exhaustion and near tears, but she would be damned if
these bastards delay her. “I am a soldier of Padreic’s
Cohort. I stand on my right as a Free-soldier and challenge to
Contest any, or all of you, god-damned simple cowards! Now let
me the fuck in before I really get angry!” There were murmurs
behind the portcullis and it rose quickly. The officer of the day,
a lieutenant, and four enlisted strode forth to take Quiet from
Ahren’s saddle.
“The Captain is in the Yard, preparing the departure for
Tellaria. We’d better hurry,” the Lieutenant left Quiet
to the enlisted men’s care. Yet gave them instructions just
the same. “Put her in a litter and take her to the infirmary.
Have Doc Gade look into extricating the shaft.” Quiet was
dumped onto a litter brought from the gatehouse and three men hurried
her off to be tended to. Their mounts were led off toward the stable
to be given some desperately needed rest.
“What’s your name, Lady?” asked the officer
as the two strode to the Yard.
“I am no ‘lady’, sir,” she stated flatly. “You
may call me Ahren if you can mange to be respectful, sir,” she
was in no mood at the moment. The officer laughed at that.
“Forgive me, soldier. I am come from the Court at Tellaria,
and when behold such beauty we err to the chivalrous,” he
chuckled. Perhaps at another time, this young man would have made
Ahren smile. But his attempt at humor made her fume.
“Sir, I have just come over one hundred and fifty miles
in two days,” the officer’s eyes rounded out at that. “My
companions and I have lost all but three members of an elite, hand-picked
Fist – and two of those three are gravely wounded. My Daum
is dead, arrow-slain. We were beset by such evil enemies as defy
description. My companion and I were lucky to make it to this ‘House.
You’ll excuse me if my normal humor is at an ebb, sir.” She
looked the officer in the eyes. His were so full of surprise and
shame that she shut up and shook her head. “Where the hell
is the Captain?” she growled.
“Who calls me thus?” There carried a deep voice around
the corner of the last building. There a tall man stood with his
general staff. His brows were drawn down over piercing blue eyes.
He held his rank and authority completely in hand. Ahren immediately
saluted.
“Captain Asraithe,” began the Lieutenant, “this
is a soldier of Captain Padreic’s Cohort. She says she has
vital intelligence for you.” The Captain returned the salute
and excused his staff and the officers bustled off to carry out
their assorted tasks. The Lieutenant made himself scarce as well.
Ahren stood straight before the Captain and related very quietly
the totality of their harrowing mission. His mouth continued to
draw down as she continued, eyes darkening. He only interrupted
once, to issue orders to a cavalry officer to sweep along their
track in reverse to where Lorry made his last stand. It was too
much to hope for any potential survivors, but he would make the
attempt. When she was finished, Captain Asraithe extended his hand.
Ahren, surprised, took it.
“You have performed admirably, my sister-soldier,” the
man said soberly. “I would fain ask you to ride once more
into danger, but I would have a guide if I were to reach Padreic
straight away…” His eyes were neutral. He was letting
her decide without any judgment.
Ahren thought for less time than it took him to say it. “I
will lead if thou wilt bring your men, sir.”
“We will empty the garrison, my word on it.” He smiled
and the Captain began to Shout for his Staff. Ahren was led to
a place off to one side where she could clean up and rest if need
be, for the column would not move out until first light the next
morning. Once clean however she went to the infirmary looking for
her last female companion. Word had spread quickly because man
and woman alike gave her a respectfully wide berth as she walked.
Quiet lay on a table. She was biting down on a piece of leather
strap as the surgeon worked. The man was in his early to mid thirties,
surprising for a surgeon in this big of an outfit. His brown hair
was shorn close and his small moustache and beard were also cut
close. His green eyes were intelligent and they sparkled as he
worked. Ahren looked to companion on the table. Ahren’s eyes
slid over the woman’s familiar parts. They had been completely
bared, of necessity. She smiled inwardly so as not to offend the
prostrate soldier. The arrow-shaft had been severed already near
the skin and the surgeon paused as she drew close by. Quiet smiled
at her gratefully and with no small amount of relief.
“You are the one who brought her in?” At Ahren’s
nod he himself nodded. “I gave her some Khafalas leaf, in
solution of course, to deaden the pain. She might seem groggy because
of it. I suppose you might want to help stabilize her while I get
this out?” Ahren wordlessly stood by Quiet’s head and
then knelt down to gaze into her eyes. She laid no hand on her
but simply shared space and the moment. The surgeon carefully and
skillfully extricated the head of the arrow. He irrigated the wound
with lavender and water and then poured a clear liquid over it.
Quiet squeezed her eyes closed, forcing tears to stream down her
face. Ahren gently took Quiet’s hand and gave it a little
squeeze.
“In order to preserve the aesthetics, I am going to suture
this up. It will minimize the scarring but not eliminate it totally.
Is that acceptable to you?” The surgeon looked inquiringly
at the two women, but waited for his patient’s affirmative
grunt and nod to continue. Ahren was surprised at the man’s
attitude. At Quiet’s acceptance, he began to carefully suture
up the hole. Ahren was sure this would be a constant topic of late-night
conversation between them. When he was done, the surgeon unselfconsciously
bent down close over Quiet’s rounded white posterior and
bit off the thread-tails. Ahren’s eyes were on the man as
he went about his job with utter placidity and assuredness. He
placed a clean linen bandage over the site.
“Alright lift your hips up, young lady,” he said
casually, a length of bandage roll in his hands. Quiet looked at
Ahren for a moment, but the blonde just nodded. “Come on,
we deploy very soon. You need not fear that I am ogling your nether
parts, woman. I have a job to do.” Quiet raised her hips
up and the doctor quickly wrapped a tight lashing around her hips
to hold the bandage in place. When he was done he looked at his
handiwork and declared it good. “Keep off it as much as is
possible. You’ll tear the sutures out. Avoid that, please.
It’ll scar even worse and I hate redoing virtuoso work anyhow.” He
smiled kindly. “Now both of you get out of here so I can
finish packing my kit.”
Three hours after it had left, the cavalry patrol returned. It
bore two litters and several saddle bags. Toady and what was left
of Teneil were laid in the Temple of Panar located within the ‘House’s
walls. There the monks would sit in vigil over the bodies before
they were laid to rest. There came no word of Lorry, or of Fingers.
Ahren dared not hope. She gave even that up when she heard the
first-hand witnesses describe the site of that blast that got them
free.
In the morning they were ready. Quiet would ride in a chariot
with a staff officer to keep her off her backside. Ahren would
ride with Asraithe himself at the head of the column. Ahren thought
back as the Asraithe gave the forward signal… Bobo’s
horrid demise. Aldon’s face as he took two lethal arrows.
The unknown manner of Jask’s demise. Gentle Bull. Himmel’s
grievous injury. Lorry’s brave stand to get them free of
the beasts. Finger’s sense of humor lost now forever but
in memory. Teneil, the crack soldier who would have surely taken
over a Cohort some day. Toady. He had gotten them through that
last part. Even as she burned each into her brain, she could not
help looking east. Her burning question was whether Padreic could
be reached in time to stop their enemies. Her gaze snapped to Asraithe
and she decided they would make it. They had to. They had to.
