"The river's back. You don't look happy."
"No, Majesty."
"Any idiots camped in the riverbed got washed away, we're better off without them."
"Yes, Majesty."
"Don't just stand there, tell me what's wrong."
"Bodies, Majesty. A lot of bodies. Twelfth legion."
"What killed them?" Even as he spoke the Emperor was pushing himself out of his chair, reaching for his stick; the slope down to the river could be tricky.
"I don't know, Majesty."
When he got to the river he saw the legionary physician leaning over one of the bodies that had been pulled from the water. The Emperor waited impatiently until he had finished.
"What happened?"
"Not a battle. Battering, but the river could have done it. They drowned. The crest was man high down here—I saw it. Worse farther up."
It was past dark when one of the survivors reached camp.
"Half the legion, Majesty."
"Sit down before you fall down—someone get him a chair. What happened?"
"Nine, ten miles up river from the city. Narrow valley, wall across the choke point, archers on the wall, canyon spread out a bit lower down, not too steep. Commander put two hundred men on each side up above to make sure nobody ambushed us. I was on the right. The rest of the legion went up the valley to take the wall, tight formation, shields up."
"The wall was the dam and they broke it."
The man nodded.
"Wave of water twice my height. We saved some, washed up one side or the other."
"How many left alive?"
"Four hundred of us out of it, Majesty. Junio thinks maybe fifty more, one side or the other."
"Junio is the surviving captain?"
"Senior captain left, Majesty. He sent me to tell you what happened. We took the dam, what's left of it, camped next to it, dug in. He wants orders."
"Find a bed somewhere, get a good night's sleep. I'll send someone in the morning; you can show him the way."
The Emperor looked around the tent. One of the officers spoke up.
"Majesty, the last word from Justin got here five days back, left him six."
"Have you sent to ask how he's doing?"
"Three days ago, Majesty. They haven't come back."
The Emperor closed his eyes, listened to the silence, opened them. Three days, and only getting worried now. Young men, mostly. If Artos . . . That choice was made; too late to change it. Loyal to his prince—to the boy's credit. For a moment he could almost see Talinn sitting in his place in Council, his lord's right hand, calm, quiet, solid as rock. Dead. Too many years. It was his war now. He pulled his mind back.
"Fifth is camped farthest down the valley. Move the whole legion west. Assume the Karls have the camp. If we're wrong, the boys get some exercise. If right, have them build earthworks across the valley mouth, start siege operations against the camp, send word back for help. Claudio, you brought the bad news, you deal with it. As soon as you know, send word.
"Karol. You have better forest scouts than theirs—use them. Your boys go west on both sides of the valley. Have them send back word about what's happening on the plain."
Tent empty, he could stretch out on the cot, close his eyes, think. Justin was gone—he knew it in his bones. If all else failed he could cut his losses, abandon the siege, force the valley mouth, take the army home—with the Queen of Kaerlia in his train and the royal castle burning behind him. Nothing in the Kingdom, nothing in the Vales, could hold a field fortification against eight legions.
Two days later, the Emperor called his commanders to council.
"We're lifting the siege, going home."
He spoke into the silence.
"Word came back from the encampment west—most of you have heard it by now. Fifth legion got there. The Karls pulled out when they saw us coming—left four hundred of our wounded behind.
"Justin's alive. He took an arrow in the throat and isn't talking yet, so he used a stylus and tablet. Harald has the host of the Vales, half the Order, two or three thousand nomads, five thousand Karl heavies. They won two battles—seven days ago, the cavalry, next day, the legions.
"Most of you saw the river—dry again. I figure the Karls had another dam farther upstream, closed it last night. There's a smaller river, Karls call it Red Rock, that joins this one five miles west of here. We just got word—it's dry too. The big river out in the plain runs north to the Borderflood. It's time to follow it. Empty the castle, add what supplies are left to ours, burn it, start west in the morning."
"Majesty?"
"Claudio?"
"Eston river runs east and north, no telling how far. The small one comes down from the hills north of us. All we've seen there are a few archers, scouts. Why not push up Red Rock valley, stay out of the river bed this time, break the dam?"
The Emperor thought a moment before he answered.
"Someone in those hills has been trying to annoy us—nothing big, ambushes, throwing rocks down at the camp. Pin pricks. I've been wondering why.
"Harald's had six days since the last battle. Cats are used to mountains, Karls know the paths—these are their hills.
"Staying is too big a risk. We're low on food and water, no cavalry left to cover our supply lines, and Harald is out there somewhere with ten thousand men. He hasn't run out of tricks in twenty years.
"Time to go home."
Standing at one side of the road, his squad at his back, it occurred to Garo that while guarding prisoners was less exciting than storming a castle, it had its compensations—especially when half of them were women. However strict the Old Man's orders, they couldn't stop a soldier from looking. Some were worth looking at.
They came by single file, hands bound in front of them, roped together in groups of sixty, each separated by a squad of ten legionaries. One of the Ladies, tall, eyes alert in a scarred face, caught his eye. Fifty by the face, forty by the dark hair, thirty by the smooth stride.
"Captain Garo."
It was a legionary runner. Garo raised his hand.
"Message from the commander, sir. Karls coming up from the south—lots of them. He wants the prisoners off the road the other side, out of the way if there's a fight. Sent a guide—courtesy of His Majesty's pet Karl. Doesn't speak anything civilized, but he'll show you where to go."
The young man gestured to the still younger man following him, pointed to the captain.
"Captain Garo. Commands prisoners. Lead him."
The guide looked at Garo, said something. Garo shook his head. The runner spoke again, slowly and loudly.
"Show. Lead."
The guide set off for the head of the column at a trot; Garo followed. Half a mile farther west, where the road ran over a dry riverbed, the guide pointed right.
Two hours later, the riverbed out of sight, the path winding uphill through thick forest. A figure stepped out of the woods, sword raised, struck twice. Leonora stepped clear of the cut rope, stretched out her bound hands; a third stroke and they were free. She turned to the Lady behind her.
"Keep moving; guards suspect anything, they may start killing people. Move as slow as you can. Get a battle song going, loud—we need the noise. 'Laina, cut 'Thora free, give her your knife. 'Thora, free everyone ahead of you, swords for some of them pretty soon."
Elaina obeyed orders, then turned to her mother. "Ambush ahead, two archers, far side of clearing to the right, any minute now."
As she spoke, Elaina handed Leonora the sword she was carrying, drew her own. Her mother glanced down at the blade, up.
"Good. Follow me."
At the head of the column the guide said something to Garo, pointed. On the right the woods had fallen back, exposing a few small buildings and a stone wall.
"What the . . . !"
At the legionary's shout, Garo turned back. The guide was gone. One of the guards pointed at the woods to the left.
"Want me to go after him?"
Garo shook his head, shrugged the shield down from his shoulder.
"May be the least of our problems."
Another shout.
"Arrows. 'Ware arrows. On the right."
Garo looked right as he slid his shield arm through the straps. Archers behind the wall. One of the legionaries behind him grunted. An arrow glanced off Garo's helmet.
"Second half after them, first half watch the prisoners."
His shield raised against the archers, Garo looked back along the path. The man at the head of the rope had seen the archers and stopped, more prisoners piling up behind him.
"Form line; they may try something."
Someone was past the knot of prisoners, running straight at the guards—the tall Lady of indefinite age. This time she had a sword.
The nearest guard thrust at Leonora. She slapped the blade aside, twisted past to the left, struck back-handed at the exposed neck. Three more in line, a fourth behind them, one down, more chasing after the archers. On her left forest; she circled right instead. The fourth man, the captain, said something to the other three and came after her, shield up—behind him his men were advancing on the prisoners. 'Laina's problem.
The tall woman moved with frightening grace, but Garo had armor and shield and she didn't. A blow straight down at his helm. He blocked with his shield, stepped forward swinging low. Her leg wasn't there, the sword a line of fire down his forearm. He stepped back, felt his grip loosening. Back again, stumbled over a body, shield swinging up as he fell.
Elaina faced a line of three guards, the prisoners behind her. As the legionaries moved forward, the one on the right thrust at her. She struck the sword down, stepped in, drove her point up where the armor opened under the arm, stepped back. The second guard swung; she blocked with her blade, struck him in the face with the butt, backed again. Leonora, behind the guards, stepped over Garo's body, struck twice.
The next minute was chaos, freed prisoners sharing out swords, daggers, javelins from the six bodies, fading back into the forest. As the second squad came past the bend, Leonora stepped between them and the prisoners, sword raised, Elaina at her side, behind them a dozen Ladies, each with a javelin, more, armed with swords, coming out of the woods on the legionaries' flank.
"Touch a sword and you die. First squad did." She nodded at the pile of bodies.
Leonora was overseeing the distribution of weapons, setting guards for the prisoners, when two figures came out of the woods on the far side of the farm. She waved. When they reached her Leonora handed Kara the sword.
"You keep it as sharp as she did. What happened to the men chasing you?"
"Two still out there somewhere. Getting dark, thought Hen and I would be more use back here."
"Yes. Get some rest—later tonight I'll want you out watching for visitors. Nicely planned rescue, but don't count on things going that smoothly next time."
" 'Bjorn's idea. Just followed orders.
"Speaking of which, better tell the sisters not to throw javelins at him."
Kara pointed down the road. The figure, coming at a trot, was dressed as a legionary runner save for bow and scabbard at one side, quiver at the other. He slowed, approached with both hands raised and empty.
"Not a problem—boy can catch them out of the air. I've seen him do it."
"Didn't get hurt?"
"Not till his grandmother found out they had points."
When Asbjorn reached the two Ladies, Leonora caught him in her arms, gave him a long hug.
"Thanks—couldn't have stood another week of legion cooking. Now report."
"Commander asleep—most of an hour before someone showed up looking for his prisoners. I left the body out of sight—another hour, maybe more, till they notice he's gone, find it. Won't be here tonight—legions think night time is for sleeping. Maybe tomorrow."
"What about Bashkai?"
"Might be a few this end as scouts. Most of them went west two days back."
"Even a few could be dangerous, especially at night. Get some rest now; you and Kara go out in a couple of hours, just in case."
He nodded, looked up at her.
"Makes you look more like 'Laina."
"While Henry argued with them about surrender terms. Figured someone might be looking for a tall Lady with gray hair. Couldn't do much about being tall."
Elen, the baby in her arms, walked over to Anne, glanced around, spoke in a whisper.
"It's hopeless. They won't let the mare off lead, cavalry rider on each side, you should have . . ."
Anne shook her head.
"I want your opinion on something in the packs."
Elen gave her a puzzled look. Anne walked over to the nearer packhorse, fumbled in one of the saddlebags, pulled out a long strip of green cloth.
"Do you think it goes with my coloring? As a sash, maybe?"
She wrapped the cloth around her waist, straightened, looked at the other woman.
"Would this one be better? Not with a dress this dark. Trim for something lighter, maybe gold—a complement to His Majesty."
The second strip was dark blue. She hung it around her neck, ends falling forwards over her breasts and down.
"Little 'Laina looks like she's starting to wake up; let me hold her a minute."
"She's sound asleep. Quietest baby I ever knew." For a moment the two women's heads were together as they leaned over the sleeping baby. Anne picked her up, took a few slow steps, stopped between the nervous stallion and a tall fir tree. Elen moved in the other direction, looked up as if she had heard something, reached the edge of the clearing, screamed.
As the guards turned to the noise, Anne cut the tether rope, slashed the rump of the stallion, took two steps sideways into the cover of the fir tree's thick boughs. The horse bolted. She slid the little knife back into the concealed sheath, bound the blue cloth crosswise over her daughter, around her own waist, back up, tied the ends at the back of her neck, started to climb.
Twenty feet up she stopped to catch her breath. Little Elaina slept quietly, her head between her mother's breasts. Below Anne heard angry voices, farther off yelling, hoofbeats fading into the distance, more. Elen's voice.