Tenth moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus
The hill, edge of Deep Forest, Wheat Lands
‘Oh aye, they’re there, plenty of sentries, no fortifications as yet,’ Dalli said when she and the rest of the Wolf scouting party returned to camp. Any relief Mace felt at her safe return dissipated with her words.
She wiped rainwater from her face and snuggled into the blanket Jarl passed her. There’d been no let-up in the weather for three days and they were all of them soaked, cold and miserable, the leg-breakers and traps they’d laid in the ground before the hill filling with water, the grassland between sucking at their boots.
‘They know we’re here, but they don’t seem to have any intention of marching up to meet us,’ she added. ‘About five miles south.’
‘Warlord, Chief, I want your best and quietest warriors,’ Mace said into the depressed quiet of his council. ‘Jarl, send a squad of sappers with them to probe the ground, and then get in there and sow a little silent mayhem. I want them waking up next to corpses tomorrow morning. Let’s see if we can’t provoke them into charging the hill, eh?’
‘The Wolves have the trees on the western slope and the base of the hill and you, Warlord, deploy just above them,’ Hadir continued, pointing out the positions on the crude map they’d drawn on the wall of the tent. ‘You’re the link between the Wolves and the Ranks and we need you to hold that line or they’ll be cut off. As for the summit, Thatcher, you’ve got the centre; Jarl on the east. Physician, we’ll require a field hospital on the flat at the rear; you’ll have men to guard you.’
The Warlord examined the map while he combed his beard with his fingers. ‘Good plan,’ he said. ‘And we hold these positions day and night until the battle comes? These killers we send in at dusk might provoke them a little too well.’
Mace gave him an approving nod, more pleased than ever not just to have the fifteen hundred warriors on his side, but that Brid Fox-dream and Cutta Frog-dream knew the business of war as well as they did. He sucked his teeth. ‘Numbers?’
‘Difficult to say,’ Dalli said. ‘We didn’t get a full look through the weather. But from the spread and layout, I’d concur with Crys’s previous estimate – around four thousand.’
‘Well, no offence but let’s assume you’re both wrong and they outnumber us two to one, because I think we all know this is the final gambit. We have to win, so I want us going over all the options. How do we neutralise their numbers? And, at the same time, how are they going to try and prevent us using the terrain to our advantage?’
‘They’ll try to counter our archers for the initial approach,’ Crys said when no one spoke. ‘They’ll be under sustained arrow volley for most of the ascent, so the main body will carry their shields overhead while the front rank holds theirs to their chests in case we send arrows flat down the slope. They’ll have their own archers on the flanks to try and keep ours pinned down. Might even send a second force through the trees first, get us to move our archers around and open up a gap they can exploit.’
‘Then our archers need to be mobile from the start. If you stick them behind wicker screens, they have to stay there or risk getting shot moving to a new location. Give us some Rank shields we can hide behind and we can shoot from wherever you need us,’ Ash said.
They went over the details twice more, teasing out plans and options, settling on a series of manoeuvres to counter suggested attacks, though when it came to it, it’d be the officer in the line who made the decisions based on the flow of battle. There was only so much these councils could plan for.
The night was deep and the Krikite and Wolf ambushers had been gone some time before Mace called a halt. He stretched, groaning as his back clicked and a yawn rippled around the group.
‘Any final thoughts?’ Mace asked.
Ash coughed and held up his hand. ‘The, er, the other thing, General – Your Majesty? That we spoke about yesterday?’
Mace puffed out his cheeks, caution warring with instinct, but Dalli was nodding at him, her brows drawn together at his hesitation. Her words came back to him: Tara would want you to, even if you don’t. This is for her as much as them. Best to do it before the battle too, in case we’re all dead.
The corner of his mouth quirked at that. Ever the romantic was Dalli Shortspear. A grin spread over her face at his expression. He cleared his throat and blinked away tiredness.
‘Gentlemen. And ladies,’ he added belatedly. Brilliant start. ‘In light of recent events and the sacrifices that are even now being suffered in Rilporin and elsewhere, and in honour and memory of those we have lost, Wolf and Rilporian alike, I have drawn up a law – the wording’s a little rough, I have no idea how to properly announce these things – a law, in my capacity as both Commander of the Ranks and king-elect …’ He stumbled to a halt.
Colonel Jarl and General Hadir exchanged alarmed glances. The Warlord evinced little more than polite interest, but Ash was watching him with unblinking intensity.
‘Witnessed and agreed by Gilda Priestess as the only surviving member of the council of priests,’ he went on doggedly, and Ash’s growing excitement was enough to lighten his tone, ‘I hereby declare that there is no lawful impediment to women joining the Ranks and serving in combat, as Major Carter has done and is no doubt doing even now with honour and fortitude.’ And complete disregard for her superiors’ orders.
Ash’s face fell and Crys frowned, puzzlement creasing his features. ‘What’s wrong?’ he began.
‘Furthermore,’ Mace said, turning to face him and Ash, ‘the old-fashioned and ridiculous law against the marriage of couples of the same sex is hereby repealed. And I think, Major Tailorson, that because of that fact, Ash Bowman would quite like to ask you something.’
The silence that fell in the tent was part disbelieving, part outraged, and a little delighted, but the shock and dawning panic on Crys’s face made it all worth it. Ash took his hands and knelt, the effect spoilt as his knee squelched in the sodden ground. ‘Crys Tailorson, heart-bound, love of my life. Will you marry me?’ he asked and there was a tremble in his voice he didn’t try to hide.
Crys’s mouth opened and closed a few times and Mace couldn’t help but smile. Dalli’s small, drenched figure pressed to his side and he slid his arm around her blanketed shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. ‘What do you think? Us next?’ he whispered as Crys nodded in mute agreement and dragged Ash out of the mud and into a tight embrace. There were ragged cheers.
‘Still no,’ she said. ‘If I marry you, King Mace, and it’s a big if, you manipulative git, I’ll do it after we’ve won. If I don’t marry you, well, I don’t have to wear the stupid hat, do I?’
‘It’s called a crown, my love,’ Mace said and her lips twitched as she tried to hide a smile, ‘and believe me, we’re getting wed.’
‘Oh, are we now?’ she began and he lifted her off her feet and kissed her, but then Gilda was bustling into the tent and peremptorily ordering everyone around, grinning so wide he was surprised the top of her head didn’t come off.
Gilda prodded him in the arm and he put Dalli down with an embarrassed chuckle. ‘Thank you, Sire; it’d be a shame if the King of Rilpor missed the most significant wedding in his country’s history – and one that will set a precedent among Rilporians that Wolves and Watchers have known for generations – because his tongue was down the Wolf chief’s throat.’
A blush heated his face, but Dalli was laughing and shooing the priestess away. ‘Go, go, marry the fools before one of them comes to their senses,’ she said, but from how tightly the two men were holding hands, sense didn’t seem to be something they were worried about.
Mace snapped to attention, his staff following suit with expressions ranging from stolid disapproval to open delight, and they all stood quietly – stood as witness – as Ash Bowman, archer and Wolf, married Crys Tailorson, officer and god.
Whatever happened next, however long his rule lasted, Mace knew he’d done something good with his time as king. Or king-elect, anyway.