A LITTLE MAD

Nyssa took advantage of the opening Karigan had created. You are right to be afraid. They will kill you, all the Greenies, and your king, too.

Karigan shuddered. I am NOT afraid.

Then go down there. Go down there and not be afraid, or run away free.

Karigan could do neither. She could not move. It wasn’t just her hands shaking now, but all of her. Self-loathing flowed through her. The old Karigan would have found a way down there. The old Karigan would not have hesitated. But everything was different now. What if they caught her? How would they hurt her?

Go or flee, Nyssa said. Either way, you lose.

The fears and self-doubts were always there, the fear of being helpless as someone methodically and intentionally hurt her. Nyssa’s ongoing presence in her mind had only served to augment those feelings and spur her into darkness and inaction.

A few years ago, Jametari, the crown prince of Eletia, had invited her to gaze into the Mirror of the Moon, a bowl of reflective water that was a remnant of Indura Luin, a lake revered by the Sacor Clans and Eletians alike for its visionary qualities, and destroyed by Mornhavon the Black for that reason. In it she had seen all her fears stripped bare, fears such as losing her father, or what would happen to Sacoridia should Mornhavon rise again. From those visions she had realized it was fear more than anything that propelled her into action, not duty, and certainly not courage. She had feared outcomes more than facing the danger head-on.

Nyssa and her whip, however, had changed all that. Fear now produced hesitation. Inaction.

At about the same time as she had gazed into the Mirror of the Moon, the spirit of Lil Ambrioth, the First Rider, had come into her life. Lil had been a hero of the Long War who recklessly rode into battle and miraculously survived. Karigan had helped in one of those instances after having been pushed back in time. She remembered Lil’s mad charge down Kendroa Mor, now known as Watch Hill, single-handedly taking on the legions of Mornhavon the Black while her Riders escaped down another route. Linked by their brooches—Karigan’s had been made for Lil—Karigan experienced Lil’s determination firsthand. Yes, she’d been a little mad, but who wouldn’t have been under the conditions of the Long War?

Karigan needed to be more like Lil, a little mad. And if emulating Lil and facing her fears head-on made Nyssa shut up? She rose to her feet and shrouded herself in the fading, and after taking a deep breath, walked down the hillock, shaking all the way, her steps uncertain, but at least she moved forward.

She, of course, could not walk into the camp near light and with so many people crowded together, and she must be watchful on the fringes for sentries. She could roll up her shirtsleeves and hide her Green Rider and Black Shield insignia, but she didn’t think it would fool anyone. If she couldn’t get close to what was happening within the encampment, it would make it difficult to ascertain what Second Empire was up to. So, when she came upon a line of laundry strung between a couple trees, she filched a plain woven cloak with a hood. She put it on in the shadows. It was still slightly damp and smelled of wet wool, but it would allow her to move more freely among the enemy.

The encampment was laid out like most she’d known, the latrines and pickets, and supplies on the outskirts. Tents, unlike the Raider camp, were pitched in neat rows with large cook fires evenly spaced. Families and camp followers were confined to one section on the far side of the encampment. The tents of lowly foot soldiers surrounded those of officers. At the very center she would find command.

Walking into the enemy’s camp was one of the hardest things she’d ever made herself do. She was surrounded by people who would not hesitate, if they found her out, to harm or kill her. She tamped down such thoughts as best she could so Nyssa would not amplify them. If she did, Karigan was not sure she’d be able to continue. She licked her lips and pushed on.

Soldiers played games before their tents, sipped tea, or ate late suppers. Some cleaned and honed weapons, or oiled leather gear. Others laughed at a joke. One played a pipe for his fellows. It could have been any encampment, a Sacoridian encampment, and it struck her that the two sides were more alike than they were different. The only thing that set them apart was the dead tree emblem they sported on their garb.

A soldier stepped in her way. “Well, hello,” he said. “Mind keeping me warm tonight, darlin’?”

“My husband would certainly mind,” she replied. She stepped around him and hastened on.

“Maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing?” the man called after her.

No, the differences between encampments were few. When she found an unattended handbasket, she snatched it and hung it over her wrist so she, in fact, appeared a wife intent on an errand for her husband.

Sooner than she thought possible, she came upon the command section of the encampment. The tents were larger, the personnel wearing more official-looking uniforms with more insignia. Many of the officers were attended by aides. In this area Karigan would look out of place, so she moved around it and found a group of people heading out in the direction of the mountains. She followed, as there seemed to be an assortment of people making way, many cloaked like she was. Others fell in behind her as they went.

When they reached the edge of the encampment, they formed a half-circle around a small group and a huge pile of firewood. Torq was there with his lieutenants, and a uniformed man with short white hair and a general’s insignia on his coat pointed toward the pass. Karigan recognized him—General Birch. She’d met him when he was but a colonel in the Mirwell provincial militia. He’d risen in the ranks in Mirwell, yes, but it turned out he’d always been an agent of Second Empire.

Birch and Torq were in deep discussion, and Karigan worked her way through the assembled as unobtrusively as possible to find a better vantage from which to see and hear what was going on.

“So, they can’t see us because of a magical shield,” Torq said. “I know this. And you keep telling me you are going to take the keep, but never when or how.”

“I have appreciated your patience in the matter,” Birch replied. His back was ramrod straight, each movement calculated. The sailors of Corsa Harbor, from whom Karigan had learned a good deal of colorful language, would have described Birch as having an oar up his aft. “This night, the time has finally come.”

“And how will you do this?” Torq demanded. He gestured toward the camp. “Your soldiers sit idle.”

Birch smiled the smile of one who is superior dealing with an imbecile. He held out his hand toward his audience. “Come, Lala.”

Karigan caught her breath. The onlookers murmured. A girl stepped away from the audience and walked over to Birch. She looked up at him with an impassive expression, and then at his hand. After some consideration, she grasped it.

Torq, for his part, laughed. “You expect this little girl to infiltrate the keep?”

“Show him what you can do, Lala.”

The girl dropped Birch’s hand. She pulled a wad of yarn out of her pocket. A pin-prickling sensation spread across the back of Karigan’s neck, for Grandmother had cast spells using knotted yarn. Lala blew on the yarn and a glow rose from her hands, and then a bright dove formed of light sat cradled on her palms.

“Very pretty,” Torq said. “A child who can do pretty tricks.”

“This is not just any child,” Birch said. “She belonged to Grandmother, was trained by her. In fact, Grandmother once told me she thought Lala would far exceed her in ability.”

Lala tossed the bird of light into the air. It fluttered its wings and hovered so very lifelike, then dove at one of Torq’s men and hit his chest. The man cried out, then fell over dead or unconscious.

“What did you do?” Torq roared.

“A demonstration only,” Birch replied. “Not to worry, your man but sleeps.”

Torq nudged the man with his boot, but he did not rise. “How long will he be out?”

“Hours, as it will be for the defenders of the keep. Long enough for our forces to break in. Lala?”

Light played across Lala’s face as she formed another dove, and another, and another, until a flock cast a brilliant glow above the assembled. Lala shooed them away and they flew off like a comet, sparkling in an arc through the night until they shrank smaller and smaller as they closed in on their destination.

Now Karigan knew how Second Empire intended to take the keep, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“It’s the sign!” someone cried out.

Even Birch looked surprised when a dozen men stepped forward and threw off cloaks that were much like Karigan’s own, revealing scarlet robes and swords girded at their sides.

“It is the sign,” the man cried again, “that Mornhavon the Great is rising again!”