General Navarien ignored the rain beating upon his helmet and watched thoughtfully as Corbin’s Seventh Battalion crossed the bridge. Although odd in design, it was Turner’s work, and well constructed. The legions often needed to bridge rivers and streams when on campaign, but to his knowledge, no one had ever used one like this. Turner had been born in Tindebrai and his idea of what was proper quite often differed from the accepted ways of doing things; not that there was anything wrong with that. Turner’s innovations were often more efficient. The bridge was an example. He claimed that his people often used bridges of this kind. They were cheap to build and easily replaced when flooding destroyed one. Navarien didn’t care about the cost of replacement. What he liked about the design was its speed of construction.
Sixteen log rafts had been built and strung together to span the river. More logs, split lengthways and secured atop them, provided the horses and wagons with a flat surface. The river crossing was mostly complete now. The bulk of Corbin’s men had already used the bridge, leaving a small rearguard to shepherd the wagons to join them on the other side. Seventh Battalion travelled light this night. Only three wagons awaited their turn to cross, filled with oats for the horses. The men could hunt on the way to supplement their diet of cured bison meat, but even that was luxury not necessity. Everything had been foreseen; from the exact amount of food each man needed to carry, to the distance between water sources, and the time it would take to reach them. The wagons would be empty and abandoned before Corbin reached his destination, but not dangerously before. He had enough fodder to see him through the days ahead and no more. Speed was the order of the day, and besides, he could re-provision when he got there.
Navarien watched the last wagon roll across the bridge followed by the rearguard, and turned away. Behind him, Turner’s men jumped into action, hurrying to tear the bridge down as the last horse crossed. The rafts were needed again for the next step in the plan, and no one wanted the Devans wondering what a bridge leading nowhere was doing here. Wards against scrying might stop shamen seeing the bridge in their mirrors, but that wouldn’t stop them sending scouts.
Navarien took off his helmet and turned his face up to the night sky, letting the rain wash the tiredness from his eyes. The wind had dropped to nothing earlier in the day, leaving heavy clouds overhead—shamen work that resisted all Wotan’s attempts to disperse.
“Are your people ready?” Navarien asked, settling his helmet back on his head.
Wotan nodded. “They await your word.”
“Good. As soon as Turner has one of the rafts ready to go, send them on their way.” Navarien frowned. “They do know how dangerous this will be? If they get found out, I can’t afford to send a rescue—”
Wotan raised a hand. “They know that, General, and accept it. They volunteered for this mission.”
Navarien nodded. “I think we will let Jihan have his way for a few more days. Yes, the rain will work with us for that.”
“It will?”
Navarien laughed. “No need to sound so surprised. I won’t chance a cavalry charge over boggy ground, but neither will he.”
“Stalemate won’t win us this war, General.”
“There’s no stalemate here, Wotan, though I hope Jihan thinks there is. If he does, he won’t be expecting me to stab him in the back… well, Julia’s back I suppose I should say.”
Wotan laughed.
* * *
Julia stared coldly into the darkness as fireball after fireball rained down upon her. Contemptuously she flicked them aside letting them fall into open ground near the moat. There was no point in tiring herself to snuff them out when they were no danger to anyone.
“Mazel was right,” Julia said to her companions. “It did get their attention.”
“Humph,” Mathius grunted.
Mathius stood to Julia’s right, and Lucius took her left. All three worked their magic to divert the fireballs, instinctively weaving their magic to avoid corrupting the other’s work. They had fought side by side so often, it had become second nature. Like a well-oiled machine, they unerringly chose their targets and deflected them safely away. The ground erupted with each explosion, and soil rained down upon them until one of the shamen standing behind them thought to take care of it with a ward.
Behind Julia, her self-assigned bodyguard, Lynd, watched with open-mouthed admiration. The golden torque at his throat, announcing his status as a clan chief, glowed red with reflected light as the fireballs roared through the air. Standing with him were three more clansmen, though only Serin wore the leathers of a Dragon Clan warrior like his. The other two were shamen of the Night Wind, Julia’s own clan, and like her, they wore the distinctive many-beaded and patterned leathers all shaman donned to proclaim their calling. Three more men filled out the group. Two were Athione guardsmen, assigned as Julia’s bodyguards to honour their dead lord, and to match in numbers her clan bodyguards. The other was their captain. All, clansmen and Devans alike, had given themselves to Julia.
“Jihan isn’t going to like this,” Lucius said, snuffing a fireball that had been so badly constructed it was in danger of falling apart and hurting someone. “When he finds out…”
Julia shrugged. “He knew about the raid. I was with Mazel when he told him.” Quiet laughter made her turn and glare at Kerrion, standing with her guards. “Well, I was!”
“Julia! Watch what you’re doing!” Mathius cried, batting a huge fireball away that she had missed in her distraction.
“I know you were, Julia,” Kerrion said soothingly. “But you didn’t tell him you were going along. You didn’t tell him why you were going, or what you planned to do when you got there.”
“He would have tried to stop me,” she said, turning back to work.
Everyone nodded; everyone except the silent man wearing the blue sash of a Senior Captain diagonally across his armoured chest. Marcus did not speak, but his silence was more than enough indication of his opinion, or so the others thought. They would have been more than surprised to hear that he approved of the raid just undertaken. The Hasian rafts had been a very real threat. Julia had discussed the mission with him before she left. What no one knew was her real reason for accompanying Mazel on his raid, not even Marcus. She suspected Kerrion had guessed, since it was very hard to keep secrets from the old man, but she had been careful not to confirm his suspicions.
The sorcerers warded their camps and fortifications against scrying as hard as shamen warded their tents and Jihan’s men. Her mirror had been mostly useless since the day she led the clans over the border into Deva. So, not being able to strike without knowing precisely where her target was, she had added herself and her friends to Mazel’s raiding party to get the information she needed. Destroying the rafts and killing the men who built them, though important, had been just an excuse to learn what she needed. General-bloody-Navarien was a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet.
Julia smiled.
“Looks like they’ve had enough,” Mathius said as he deflected the last fireball away from them. “Still, it might be best if we wake Larn or someone to keep watch for more.”
“Already done,” Kerrion said. “Larn says if they try anything like this with him, he’ll send their fire back to them with something extra for a thank you.”
Everyone laughed at that.
“We should make the watch a permanent thing from now on, Kerrion,” Lucius said, releasing his link to his magic and flicking a piece of mud off his robe. “This kind of attack will become the norm in short order.”
Kerrion nodded.
“You think so?” Mathius asked. “It wasn’t very effective.”
“You don’t think so? Look around, everyone is awake and ready for an attack. What would happen if they bombarded us like this everyday? Or worse, every night?”
Julia nodded, noting squads of men in the armour of Deva’s First Legion running to man their posts. Malcor guardsmen seemed calmer, but they too were readying themselves to fight by donning their armour and checking their weapons. Marcus’ men looked on, completely unconcerned. They had seen worse than this being veterans of the siege of Athione, and were already in position as they had night watch.
All over camp, officers were shouting orders to prepare to receive a charge, which was stupid. Jihan had positioned his trenches to break a charge, and it was too dark anyway. Lastly, Navarien wouldn’t be fool enough to charge head on against prepared positions like this. Jihan said so.
“We would do the same to them,” Mathius said.
Lucius nodded. “Maybe so, but the point is our men won’t get any rest. A few nights of no sleep, and Navarien could walk his men in here unchallenged.”
Julia snorted. That was something of an exaggeration, but they all got the point. The problem was, it was too good an idea for Navarien not think of it and at least try to make it work. Tonight’s retaliation was the first indication that the raids were starting to sting. Julia was sure an attack would come tomorrow, especially now they had destroyed Navarien’s gambit with the rafts. So far, Navarien hadn’t tried a head on assault against Wardenvale’s defences. Instead, he had dug in while sending men around Jihan’s lines, probing for a weakness and hoping to flank. Jihan had been spot on so far in predicting Navarien’s moves. Julia hoped his luck held for a little longer.
“Jihan is probably out here somewhere, aiming to get his men back in their bedrolls. Let’s go in before he finds us.”
Shelim grinned. “He’ll find out eventually.”
“Later suits me better,” Julia said firmly, leading the way across the drawbridge and into the castle.
Knowing she had missed dinner again, and having no appetite anyway, Julia led her friends to the sitting room Ahnao liked so much. It was a shame the raid had taken so long, she had hoped to spend some time with Ahnao and Connor. Connor would be asleep in his crib by now. She smiled, remembering the first time she had seen him. Ahnao had been sitting in her room holding her baby, while Ellyn cooed and made silly faces at him. Julia and Ellyn had been friends, dating back to her stay at Malcor a few years ago. Of all Ahnao’s friends living in Malcor’s women’s quarter, only Ellyn had opted to risk herself by staying with Ahnao after the evacuation of the fortress. The others had scattered back to their family’s castles and mansions.
Julia entered the room to find Ahnao sitting beside Lady Direlle doing their needlework and chatting happily. Julia shuddered internally. How they could enjoy embroidery was beyond her, but they did. Jessica had despaired of ever fostering an interest for it in her, but Ahnao had not yet bowed to the inevitable. She often tried to show her how to make the intricate patterns that she so admired in Jessica’s work. Ahnao was no slouch, but even she admitted that Jessica was in a class of her own.
In more ways than one.
Julia had poured a glass of wine for herself and her friends before she realised the woman standing by the window wasn’t Ellyn. She handed Marcus his wine, and one each to Lucius and Mathius. Lynd and the other clansmen would not drink wine, mostly because they preferred their own much stronger spirits. Lynd and Serin were doubly adverse. Like her Athione guardsmen, they took their job as her bodyguards too seriously to risk anything that might slow their reactions. Julia shook her head gently. Her magic was far quicker than they could ever hope to be, but they held fast to the fiction that let the remnants of Dragon Clan stay to fight the man who had destroyed their families. Navarien.
Julia quenched her thirst then turned to her friend. “I’m sorry, Ahnao. I meant to come for dinner, I really did, but something came up.”
Ahnao nodded. “Something always does.”
“Sorry,” Julia said, studying her boots. She hated it when Ahnao looked at her like that. “Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven… again.”
Julia winced.
* * *
Analise stared at Julia in fascination. She didn’t know what she had expected of someone with such a towering reputation, but surely this child-sized woman in men’s clothes, was not it. Julia was gaunt featured, and her eyes burned from dark caves as if she hadn’t slept for days. Colourful beads decorated her clothes and rattled as she moved. The swirling pattern on her back and the flames running up both arms matched the pattern two of the clansmen wore. Little plaits in Julia’s hair hung at her temples, with a feather and more beads woven in among them. The silver streak in her otherwise black hair seemed to glow in the soft light of the lamps.
Julia’s companions were almost as fascinating in their own way. The clansmen were something new in Analise’s experience, as were the mages in their colourful robes, but at least she could guess who the mages were. The one in red had to be the Hasian ex-sorcerer, Lucius. Tales of him and his defection from the Protectorate were well known. In his way, he was as famous as Julia herself, or perhaps that should be infamous. The one wearing the blue robe of a master mage would be Mathius. He had destroyed a suit of rooms in the palace at Devarr to kill the sorcerers responsible for Julia’s abduction. The stories about him weren’t as outlandish as those told about Julia, but his name was still well known.
Like Julia, all the clansmen had plaits in their hair with a feather woven in, but only two had the noisy beads on their clothes and in their hair. The other two clansmen wore sword belts and sheathed swords on their hips, and their clothes were plainer. The beads were absent, but one of the men wore a heavy looking golden torque around his throat. Analise knew what it meant. He was a chief, something like a lord of the Camorin people. She wondered if Wardenvale had ever hosted so much power in one room before. She doubted it.
Ahnao rose and introduced everyone.
Analise felt very strange when Julia hugged her. Julia was very wiry and muscular, and her clothes emphasised her gauntness. It felt like a man hugging her. Captain Marcus bowed to her, and then poured himself a second glass of wine. Analise bobbed a small curtsy to the mages, and they bowed in return murmuring a few welcoming words. The clansman merely smiled and nodded to her.
“I’m sorry I missed your arrival,” Julia said.
Analise nodded. “I was a little disappointed by your absence. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Oh?” Julia waved a hand, indicating they should all sit.
Analise and the others seated themselves, but Lynd and Serin declined. They chose to position themselves near the door and window. Perhaps they thought a rampaging sorcerer would burst in through the door or fly through the window to kill them all.
“I wanted to ask for your help.”
Julia sighed tiredly. “I get that a lot.” Mathius glared at Analise, but Julia raised a hand to stop him from saying anything. “What do you want me to do for you?”
“My father was killed recently by bandits. They wanted to steal his horse,” she said bitterly. “He was Lord of Chaidren Ridge, and I have no brothers.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Julia murmured.
“You are the King’s ward then?” Mathius asked.
Analise nodded.
Julia frowned. “Wait, what has Gylaren got to do with this?”
Mathius leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Chaidren Ridge must pass through the male line, Julia. Analise is her father’s sole heir, and she is unmarried, which means the King stands as her father and protector until she is wed.”
“And if I don’t want to marry, the King will throw me and my mother out of our home and give it to another lord to hold.”
“What?!” Julia gasped. “That’s outrageous!”
Analise was grimly pleased Julia thought so, but Mathius was already undermining the effect of her words.
“…not as bad as it sounds, Julia,” Mathius said. “The King becomes responsible for his ward and her family almost like they were part of his family. He must provide for Analise just as her father would have.”
Julia nodded. “Oh, I see—”
“No, you don’t see at all,” Analise interrupted, glaring at Mathius. “He will choose who I am to marry. Probably an old friend of his, or someone he owes a debt to.”
“That’s… that’s slavery!” Julia erupted to her feet and stalked across the room to stare out the window. Almost immediately, she swung around and glared at Mathius. “Everyone talks about honour here. Honour this and dishonour that. Don’t do this don’t do that, and all because of honour. Where is the honour in forcing a woman to marry someone she doesn’t even know, eh? Tell me that!”
Mathius swallowed, and glanced at Lucius worriedly. “Calm down, Julia. You’re among friends here. Why don’t you release your link to the magic? You must be tired.”
“Tired? My magic?” Julia said, frowning uncertainly. “What has my magic got to do with it? We were talking about Gylaren forcing Analise to marry some old guy in his dotage!”
Analise stared. Mathius sounded frightened of Julia. She shook off the thought and concentrated on persuading Julia to help. With the sorceress on her side, the King would have to listen and give Chaidren Ridge to her. She wouldn’t have to marry Llewyd. She could marry anyone she chose!
“You know Gylaren better than that, Julia. He would no more force Analise to marry than he would try to force you.”
Julia cocked her head as if listening to a voice that only she could hear. She nodded and frowned in thought.
Analise cursed under her breath. “I met with the King in Devarr before coming here. He told me himself that he would find me a husband to hold Chaidren.”
“Or?” Mathius pressed.
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh come, you understand me, my lady. What else did the King say? Did he not offer to let you live with him. I wager he did, or something of that kind.”
Analise nodded reluctantly. “He said the crown had holdings he had never visited. He said my mother and I could live in one of them.”
“There, you see?” Lucius said to Julia. “It’s not as bad as you thought.”
“But don’t you see? Chaidren Ridge has been in my family since the founding. He will force us out. It’s not fair!”
“It’s the way things are,” Mathius said. “Inheritance flows through the male line. It’s always been that way.”
“That’s not a good argument for justifying anything, Mathius,” Julia said. She turned to Analise. “What exactly do you want me to do about this?”
“Talk to the King. Make him give me Chaidren Ridge to hold. My family has ever been loyal to the crown. That won’t change just because my father’s daughter rules after him and not his son. I will marry in my own time, and bear sons to follow after me. What harm is there in it?”
Mathius shook his head. “Tradition—”
Julia snorted. “You know what I think about some of your traditions, Mathius.”
“Yes, and you know Gylaren was one of the most traditional lords in the Kingdom. That’s why most of the others voted for him. You were the one that advised him to use his traditional views to win the throne!”
Julia frowned. “So I did, so I did…”
“Have you thought of your own situation, Julia?” Analise said, desperate to keep things progressing her way. “With Keverin dead and childless—”
Julia flinched.
“—will likely force Lady Jessica out of Athione too.”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Julia barked in sudden rage, and Analise flinched at the look in her eyes. There was pain and rage, but worse was the lost look of a woman on the edge of madness. “Jessica belongs to Athione and it to her. I would see him dead before the order finished passing his lips!”
Lady Direlle gasped.
“She doesn’t mean that,” Mathius said quickly. “She’s just upset.”
“Don’t tell her that!” Julia said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Gylaren is going to throw Jessica out of Athione!”
“No he isn’t, calm down. He never said that, Analise is only guessing.”
Analise swallowed and bulled a head. “Who will hold Athione then? Like me, Keverin had no brothers or children.”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t mean Jessica will have to leave. The next lord will probably let her stay.”
Analise snorted derisively. “How nice. If the next lord takes pity on her, if the next lord condescends to let Jessica stay in the only home she has known for nearly fifty years. Is that justice?”
“Shut up!” Mathius said desperately. “Julia, don’t listen—”
“How dare you!” Analise hissed. “You know I’m right. Jessica is in the same position as I am, except not even Gylaren would try to marry Jessica off to anyone at her age.”
“I’ll talk to Gy,” Julia said, her eyes narrowed as Analise’s words shot home.
“Julia—” Mathias began.
“No. I’ll talk to him. I need to know what will happen to Athione now that Kev… now that he’s dead. Maybe I can make him give it to me, or maybe Blaise. Kev would have liked that, don’t you think?”
Mathius glanced at Lucius and nodded slowly.
“When I see him, I’ll ask him to give Chaidren to you, Analise.”
“Thank you, Julia. You don’t know what this means to my mother and me.”
“Oh, I think I can imagine,” Julia whispered and poured herself another glass of wine.
* * *