Hers to Choose (3 page)

An
expression on Commander DeStroia’s handsome face came and went rapidly.
Is that surprise or dismay? I envy his easy composure. Mine has been hard won.

The commander smiled pleasantly.
“I welcome the addition of your
flight
, Lady DeLorion. Warriors with intimate knowledge of the desert wastelands are a valuable asset. I would like to start back tomorrow at dusk. We travel by night through the desert wastelands. Yesterday, since the distance left to travel was so short, we rode during daylight as we could complete the trip before the full heat of the day, but that is not my preference.”

Sophi returned his direct gaze.
She found it shamefully easy to look at him and for the first time in recent memory felt stirrings of purely feminine response to this handsome man.

“
I should attend my men and horses,” Eric said. “Tomorrow, then,
Primus
, Mistress, my Lady.” With a small bow, he took his leave.

S
ophi turned to Mother Lyre and
Primus
G’hed. “I love you. I already miss you
—
and I will be back.”

* * *

At dusk the next day,
Sophi’s
flight
filtered into
Sh’r Un Kree
from the surrounding hillsides.

As t
hey gathered in the designated courtyard, she made a small adjustment to Brio’s bridle.

“
Are these the legendary wasteland horses we lowlanders hear stories about?” Commander DeStroia’s deep voice caught her attention.
I didn’t hear his approach
.
Taught stealth by my brother, no doubt.

“Yes.” She followed his gaze as he examined her
flight’s
small, hardy mounts and the equally small, hardy women astride them. “Petrina—she has a fiery temper to match her red hair, but she is my right hand. The brunette beside her is Adonia, our
medica
. Her knowledge of herbs is indispensable and this is Rhea, our best tracker. Layna, Eudora and Maeve complete our
flight
. Their precision in hitting their targets is uncanny. We don’t look like much, but we will not burden you, Commander. We are quite self-sufficient.”

“
I never imagined otherwise, Lady DeLorion.”

She stiffened. “I do not use my courtesy title. I am no longer that person.
I prefer ‘
Flight Leader
’.”

His eyes examined her but he nodded agreeably.
“
Flight Leader
. We will leave upon the half-hour. Take position beside me at the front. Your
flight
can muster behind you.”

“
No. It is not our way. We will ride the ridges and shadowed places in twos and threes. We will be there but you will not see us.”

His eyes narrowed.
“I don’t like it. I cannot protect you if I cannot see you.”

“
I do not ask your permission, Commander. I am in far less danger with my
flight
than with you who lack experience in the desert wilds. I knew you were coming hours before you arrived. Sound carries great distances in the wastelands—and the dust! Your numbers hang a sign in the desert air,
‘attention—riders approach’
.”

She swirled her robes away from her legs and vaulted onto her gelding.
A whistled birdcall caught her archers’ attention. “We flank Commander DeStroia. Ride out.”

Sophi
felt the Commander’s eyes on her as she and her
flight
faded into the desert night.

* * *

When Sophi and her women had faded from sight, Eric strode into the stable yard where his four
rides
of the Queen’s Royal Guard assembled, preparing for the order to mount. Frustration chewed on his temper.
I was prepared for a shy, withdrawn woman, not this—Valkyrie. It is difficult to “escort” a woman when you don’t know where she is, when she doesn’t want or need an escort in the first place.

“Queen’s Guard! Prepare to mount! Mount!” he barked, swinging up onto his horse. “
Rides
! By twos. Form up!” Cavalrymen paired off and formed orderly lines, broken every eight riders by a colorful pennant bearing the insignia of their unit.

“Queen’s Guard!
At the walk! March!” Eric ordered.

As his horse’s long stride
swung through the arches of the village wall, his second-in-command rode up to him.

“Commander?”

“Captain.”

“Do we leave without Lady
DeLorion?”

“No.”
Eric fumed in silence.

“Commander?”

“What!”

The man cleared his throat nervously.
“Where
is
Lady DeLorion?”

“Good question, Captain Biron. If you see her
, let me know.”

* * *

Sophi’s
flight
roamed as satellites to the cavalry squadron, orbiting unseen yet always present. Sophi and her second, Petrina, rode as a pair in the deepest shadows. They skirted the small rock outcroppings and blended invisibly with the stunted vegetation. The three-quarter moons’ cast deep shadows but sufficient light to make their way. The women ghosted, unseen and unheard, across the severe landscape. Sophi paused occasionally to make use of her night-glass, sweeping the horizons, always watching. The handsome commander at the head of the column of riders regularly drew her gaze. She studied his broad shoulders and long lines. His masculine face with its strong, squared jaw and elegant nose was unmistakable in profile, even from a distance. Her memory filled in the mobile, generous mouth and thickly-lashed green eyes. He sat his enormous black warhorse with easy grace, as if one with the creature, a centaur in form-fitting battle leathers. She wondered if he rode women with the same skill as he rode his horse.

“
He pulls the eye, doesn’t he?” Petrina murmured, teasing Sophi about her preoccupation.

Sophi collapsed her
night-glass and laughed softly. “Yes. I freely admit I enjoy looking at him.”
He pulls more than just my eyes.
He awakened desires in her she thought eradicated from her psyche.

The wiry redhead
, Petrina, nudged her own mount into a walk. “It is good to see you express interest in a man.”

Sophi shrugged. “I defy any woman with eyes in her head not to
notice Commander DeStroia.”

“Yes, indeed,” chuckled Petrina. “
Particularly when
Segundo
DeLorion and the
L’anziano
might mandate his joining with her.”

Sophi’s soft snort answered
her dearest friend and second-in-command. “Yes. There is that.”

Eric hadn’t seen Sophi since they left
Sh’r Un Kree
, five days ago. He sometimes glimpsed their distant fires in the early dawn, but it could have been wishful thinking on his part. The morning sun burned on the horizon in a vision-searing display of fiery crimson and blazing gold.

His
weary men were nearly at the end of their night’s ride when Haarb infantry attacked out of the sun. Their attackers were mere silhouettes against its scorching light. Their foe’s blood-curdling howls echoed across the floor of the small valley as hordes of enemy foot soldiers bore down on Eric and his cavalry.

“
Queen’s Guard! Form ranks!” Eric screamed. “Captain Biron, to me!”

Biron’s plunging horse appeared a
longside Eric’s restive mount. “Take Green and Silver
rides
to that ridge.” Eric gestured to a rise perhaps a quarter of a mile distant. “I’ll take Black and Red
rides
to that overlook opposite. Be ready to charge and retreat back to the rise on my signal.”

“Gods-be-damned,
Eric! Look at their numbers. There must be three, four, to our one,” Biron snarled grimly.

“
That might give them a fighting chance, Jon.” Eric grinned savagely. “We hit and fall back, hit and fall back. Time your strikes with mine. We’ll smash them between us. Divide the point of attack. Make them fight on two fronts.”

“Yes, sir!”
Biron wheeled away and spurred along the line of horse, shouting orders. Half the squadron peeled off and the ground shook under the hooves of sixteen horses at a dead run. The dust of the desert boiled into the air in their wake.

Eric stood in his stirrups and
bellowed, “Black
Ride
, Red
Ride
, to me! To me!” Turning his mount to the opposite ridge, he sank his spurs into his horse and galloped to the high ground opposite, his horse leaping over the deep crevasses in the dry, cracked ground.

In minutes
, he and his men had achieved the heights and looked down on the valley floor swarming with their enemy turning to advance up the sides of the valley. The terrain, divided with deep cracks and crevices, slowed the foot soldiers significantly, while the mounted
rides
merely vaulted the crevasses.

“Qu
een’s Guard! Form abreast! Make ready!” Eric watched as his well-trained men formed a line, side-by-side, to his right. His saber flashed in the blazing light of the rising sun as he stood in his stirrups, his sword arm extended. “Queen’s Guard! Prepare to charge!” He paused for the men to collect themselves.
“Charge!”

The wind tore at his face, streaking his cheeks with involuntary tears,
as his horse raced down the steep embankment, lunging over the uneven ground. He had a second to marvel at the animal’s sure-footedness before they were upon the enemy. With savage cries, the Verdantian horse crashed into the Haarb lines. The shrieks of the enemy rent the air as they fell beneath the steel-shod hooves of the battle-trained mounts and the savagely slashing blades of the horsemen. But all too soon the enemy’s agonized screams were joined by the agonized cries of Eric’s men as both horses and riders went down beneath the sheer numbers of the Haarb onslaught.

Their enemy almost surrounded them
. “Queen’s guard! Pull back! Pull back!” Eric screamed over the melee, then wheeled his horse and spurred for high ground to reorganize. The Haarb infantry pursued, howling in triumph at their retreat, but the mounted riders quickly outstripped them. Seeing the futility of pursuit over the broken, uneven ground, the enemy soldiers turned back.

On the high ridge, Eric pulled up in a
spray of loose rock and dust. His men circled in a disorganized group around him.

“Black
Ride
, your losses,” Eric shouted out.

“
Evans and Trilby, sir!” was the shouted response.

“
Red
Ride
, your losses.”

“
Decker, sir!” came the reply.

Eric
pulled out his spy-glass and watched the opposing ridge for signs that Captain Biron had reassembled.
There, the Silver pennant.
“Queen’s Guard! Form abreast! Prepare to charge! Charge!”

Once again the horsemen thundered down the slopes like furies from the
seven hells. The horses leapt the narrow crevices, only keeping their footing through some miracle. The Verdantians smashed into the enemy forces, scattering them like children’s blocks. The Haarb seemed to have no interest in self-preservation and the creatures leapt at the mounted warriors, five or six at a time, climbing the horses’ legs like tree trunks, clawing and gnawing as they did so. A furious howl arose from the fiends whenever they bore a horse and rider to the earth. This time as Eric screamed to fall back, far fewer returned and Eric surveyed the grim, bloodied faces of his warriors. A sharp hail turned his attention to Captain Biron, trotting toward his position with four horsemen following him.
Thank you, great Goddess; I was certain I’d lost him.
Eric closed his eyes in weary grief for the brave men who died this day. His certainty grew by the minute that he would be among their number by the end of the day. Not for the first time, he wondered where Sophi was.
I hope she and her flight are far from this battleground.
Perhaps their sacrifice would give her time to warn the
Oshtesh
.

Biron drew abreast. “Thought you’d want to consolidate our numbers.”

“Yes, well done, Jon.” Eric turned to the small assembly. “Gentlemen, what say you? Continue the charge against the Haarb or evade them? I won’t think less of any man who wishes to stay alive to see his loved ones and chooses the latter.” He turned in his saddle and surveyed the remaining numbers of Haarb milling on the valley floor. The Haarb commanders knew better than to attempt a charge up a steep grade over uncertain ground. The Haarb dead lay piled like cords of firewood but the Haarb living still outnumbered his horsemen. They lay in wait for the Verdantians like a giant spider waits for its prey.

He turned back to his
men. “We have given them a hearty distaste for Verdantian steel but their numbers may win the day. Know this—whatever we do here will save countless numbers of our countrymen. Nothing short of a Verdantian blade will stop the Haarb. It might as well be ours that decimate this Haarb troop.” He held each man’s gaze for a moment in the universal acknowledgement of one warrior for another. He knew them all, had fought beside them in many campaigns. There were none better. Green
Ride’s
Lieutenant Crawford spoke up as he was considering his words.

“We’re with you, sir.
If you led us into hell, we’d be at your back. I think I speak for all of us.” A murmured response of agreement sounded from the men.

He looked toward his captain. “Jon?”

His second shrugged and grinned broadly. “Always figured I’d wind up in hell.”

Eric
felt honored by such loyalty but he prayed fervently that the great Goddess would guard each one of them. He sat for a moment, holding their names up to his deity, a brief hiatus in the confusion of battle, then nodded to his men. His quiet voice carried clearly. “Gentlemen. It is an honor to serve with you. Let us show them how Verdantia welcomes invaders to her soil. Let us remind them why they lost the war. Queen’s Guard, prepare to charge.” He wheeled his horse to the sound of swords clearing their scabbards.

With
a brandish of his saber, he screamed, “Charge!”

At a dead run, breasting the solid line of enemy
spears and pikes, the Verdantian horse smashed into the Haarb forces. Simple survival ruled the day. Eric’s arms numbed as he blocked lethal strikes and viciously gouged and slashed at enemy after faceless enemy. Endless wave after wave of enemy broke upon his flashing crimson blade. His knees urged his kicking and plunging warhorse into the midst of another melee when he had slain those around him. His sword arm labored. In the choking dust of the battle, his lungs barely drew air fast enough. He no more dispatched one enemy than another rose in his place.

Eric’s
vision grayed. Bright blood covered him, flowing from a myriad of slashes and stab wounds. Many battles had tested him but none had carried such certainty of death.

A berserker rage consumed him as h
e savagely parried and thrust, oblivious to his own injuries, determined to take as many Haarb into death with him as he was able to bring. The enemy soldier facing him gave a cry and fell away, but this time none replaced him. He looked around to find the next. An arrow whistled by his body, impaling an attacking Haarb through the eye. Then another fell, an arrow piercing his throat, then another, and another, each with an arrow piercing a vital fatal spot. His eyes scanned the battlefield. The scene re-occurred everywhere.

Stupefied with exhaustion, he
slumped on his horse as flight after flight of arrows hit their mark with deadly accuracy. A slow grin covered his face.
Sophillia. Great Goddess be praised.

Within
minutes, all fell quiet. Men taxed to their limits struggled to remain standing or sagged atop their horses and looked numbly at the motionless bodies strewn about them. They stood amidst unspeakable carnage. The moans of the dying soldiers and wounded horses, and the stink of blood and feces, assaulted Eric. He methodically wiped his blade on the tunic of a dead Haarb.

Sheathing his saber
, he cupped his hands to his mouth and croaked from a bone-dry throat, “
Rides
, form up!” Out of the chaos, a ragged column of cavalry struggled to assemble. His eyes ran a headcount.
Goddess, so few.
Thirty-two horse had ridden out of Sylvan Mintoth. Now, he counted eleven.

A slight
movement a small distance away drew his notice. In a semi-circle around the battlefield, seven mounted riders sat atop motionless horses. The heat rising from the desert floor blurred their profiles into a trembling mirage of ghostly waves. Their sandy robes flapped lazily in the hot eddy of a faint breeze felt only on the rise. Without that flutter of cloth, he would not have noticed them.

A rider separated from the semi-circle and
rode toward him. The figure’s approach seemed an eternity. The rider stopped, mere feet separating them. Robes obscured everything but blazing aqua eyes.
Sophillia.
A sun-browned hand reached for her face covering and removed it. Once again, for an instant, her beauty wiped all thought from his brain.
You are better than this, Eric. Get it together, man. Treat her like an equal or you will lose her before you begin.

“
Flight Leader
. My thanks for your timely arrival.”

A
solemn expression crossed her lovely features. “I take the extent of your losses upon myself, Commander. We should have been here with you when the Haarb attacked. Last evening, Layna and Rhea reported large bands of Haarb mercenaries east of us. I took the
flight
to scout ahead. When morning broke and we saw the air behind us filling with the dust of a battle, we turned back. We pushed the horses to their limits.” Her eyes swung to the masses of dead bodies, then back to his. “I am sorry we weren’t here sooner.”

Sweat-
streaked dirt coated her face.
She must be thirsty.
He fumbled for the water skin on his saddle.
Empty, dammit.
She offered him hers with an outstretched hand.

With a
laugh roughened by dust and exhaustion, he took the water skin and rinsed his mouth before he swallowed. “I was going to offer you mine.”

A small smile tipped her lips. “Keep it. We will all drink deeply tonight.”

He shook his head grimly and pointed to the dead pack animals with their panniers of water skins broken upon the cracked earth. “There is our water.”

“
That is not all the water in the world, Commander.”

Once
again, she gave a melodic whistle and the semi-circle of riders closed on their position.

“Maeve,
take Eudora and find what arrows can be salvaged from the battlefield. Adonia, Petrina, Rhea, see what you can do for our wounded. Layna, gather those water skins and repair them. We will need them.”

He sat
, numb, as she calmly organized the salvage of useful items and the tending of their wounded.
I should be doing that. Ah, hells, it would be nice to get off my horse.
He swung down, staggering as his feet hit the earth. He lurched his way to a useful boulder. A broad red smear marked his slide down the boulder to the ground.
Oh, that can’t be good.
His head lolled backward against the rock.

His second-in-
command pulled to a stop in front of him. Eric stared unseeing at the horse’s knees. “Sir, our dead. What do you wish done?”

Eric thought for a moment. “Separate our dead from the enemy’s, Jon. Gather what personal effects you can and burn the bodies of our own dead. We will collect the ashes for their loved ones. Leave the Haarb as they are for the carrion eaters.”