John Carr - The Fireseed Wars

Hestophes saw two coonskin-capped scouts and one with a badger's head over his conical helmet start toward the woman with the knife. Without conscious thought, he kicked his horse in the flanks and suddenly found himself halfway across the stream. One of the scouts aimed a pistol in his direction and he heard a wheeeet as a bullet spanged off his steel breastplate. His right ribs felt numb beneath the cotton gambeson he wore under his armor, but he'd survived worse in the past.

Hestophes crouched down when Sharp Hooves pulled himself up the grassy bank, reaching the Pioneer. Her knife was already in its scabbard and she used his hand and arm like a lever to pull herself up and wriggle onto the saddle behind him.

As they turned he saw one of the oath-brothers, with a crest of braided and multi-colored hair that Kalvan called a Mohawk, running towards him with a tomahawk. He yanked out his already-loaded saddle pistol and shot him point-blank in the chest. The red-skinned oath-brother's mouth made a large "O" of surprise as a geyser of blood fountained out of his mouth. He fell face first into the stream with his feet trailing back on the green bank.

"Thank you, sir," the woman mouthed in his ear as he spurred Sharp Hooves back across the stream to a stand of trees.

He hadn't gotten a good look at the Pioneer's face as she swung onto his horse, but he couldn't help but notice the cotton dress clung to her well-proportioned frame like a snake skin. "I owe you my life, sir," she said when they reached the other side of the bank.

Hestophes turned and saw a nice face-not lovely like Rylla's or her evil cousin's, but a face a man could look at for a long time and never fail to notice something new-such as the flecks of gold in her cornflower eyes. "Just doing my duty, my Lady."

She gave a smile and her face lit up like the sun rising over Mt. Kythros; suddenly she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever rested eyes upon. "May I ask your name, sir?"

"Of course. Captain-General Hestophes, at your command, My Lady." For the first time in his life, when speaking to a woman who set his heart to pounding like one of the Order's battle drums, he wasn't the least bit tongue-tied or nervous.

"Oh! The Hero of Narza Gap!" she cried out.

Hestophes felt the blush start at his toenails and work its way up to his scalp. "I prefer to be known by my given name."

"You shouldn't be embarrassed, Captain General-I mean Hestophes. You are renowned throughout Hos-Hostigos as one of the Great King's paladins."

His name in her mouth arrived at his ears like music from a beautiful but unknown instrument.

"What is your name, My Lady?"

She giggled. "I'm no Lady, just one of the Queen's Pioneers Captain Lysia."

"Lysia," he repeated, it was a wonderful name, the most lyrical name he'd ever heard. She must be the commander of this operation; he was even more impressed. "You will always be Lady Lysia to me."

She was smiling, when General Baldour rode up splashing mud all over Lysia and Sharp Hooves. Without conscious thought, Hestophes cross-drew the pistol inside his sash, cocked it and was about to fire, when Baldour's white face and upraised hands stopped him cold.

"Sorry, Captain-General. But, Dralm-blast it, what do you think you're doing, charging out into the stream, like some green petty officer?"

Hestophes looked around him, his banner-guard and bodyguards were all fighting to keep grins off their faces, but the fire in their eyes could have lit candles.

"I saw this Lady needed help, and I went to her aid."

"You gave strict orders to the men-"

"We'll talk about this later, in private, Baldour. We've got other problems." He paused to point to a large body of Styphoni cavalry, as they rode over the brow and down into the clearing, scattering their own scouts.

The Pioneers stopped screaming and flailing about and ran for the protection of their wagon. Within moments they all scrambled inside and the driver whipped the horses into motion. Suddenly mass gunfire and flames shot out from holes in the canvas, knocking men and horses off their feet. The Styphoni halted in confusion, pulling out swords and pistols.

In a few more breaths, the wagon lunged out of the stream, water fanning to either side. Now the clearing was filling with Harphaxi cavalry, as more troopers rode in.

The lead Harphaxi troopers-oblivious to the dead bodies floating down stream-jumped off their horses; they only had eyes for the girls. Cursing and laughing, as though it were a feast day celebration, they raced into the stream after the wagon. The cavalrymen along the bank urged them on with taunts and pistols firing into the sky.

The fools, thought Hestophes, as he raised his sword. He slashed it down and there were a series of loud crashes, as though Thanor had thrown down a score of thunder bolts, when over a thousand muskets and sixteen guns fired from left to right. Within a heartbeat, there wasn't a single horse or man left standing in the creek or on the other side of the bank. Not all of them, or even most of them were dead, but they were down. Some were starting to fire back, crouched behind dead horses or their dying comrades, and the fifty or so snipers-a Kalvan word from his Cold Lands' tongue- hiding up in the trees, started picking off the officers and shooters.

Suddenly, the fallen line was replaced by more Styphoni, pushing forward from the brow of the rise toward the little stream. He'd have to ask Hectides the stream's name, that is, if he survived this murderous tangle.

The Styphoni began shooting pistols and musketoons. Another volley of gunfire and a third of those standing were knocked over or blown aside. Suddenly, there was a Band of Styphon's Own Guard in the mix, trying to push their way forward, over their own dead and dying allies. The Temple Band, marching as one with glaives forward, were stopped dead in their tracks when both artillery batteries fired a volley of case-shot practically point-blank in their face. Guardsmen were screaming and falling down into the stream, but those who'd not been shot were still marching. Suddenly, the survivors were almost across the stream when a volley of musket and cannon fire from shore hit them like strong wind hitting a boy's kite. He saw one Guardsman, hit by a cannon shot, tossed into the air like a doll with all the stuffing leaking out.

The Styphoni cavalry were now moving back and their dragoon arquebusiers were off their horses, making their way forward, the wiser ones placing their bodies behind tree trunks, their dead comrades or lying in the blood-splattered muck. Another volley of cannon balls, combined with small gunfire, whisked the clearing clean of opponents for another twenty breaths. Hestophes wondered: Is our plan working too well?

He turned to one of his aides, shouting: "Tell those Pioneers to leave the wagon! Then escort them out of harm. They've done their job! We're not going to hold this ford for much longer." The petty-captain, wheeled his horse and rode over to the wagon, shouting his orders. Moments later the women and girls scrambled out, following his aide to safety. Rylla might call him a Phrames and accuse him of over-gallantry, but he wasn't about to spend their lives for nothing.

He felt Lysia's arms tighten around his chest, hard enough that he felt it all the way to his bruised ribs-now, that's a woman!

As soon as the women and younger girls were safe it would be time to put his plan into motion. The whole object of the ruse was not to kill the entire Harphaxi detachment, but for them to see and recognize that Agrysi troops made up a large part of the force. Hopefully, he would give the Styphoni the mistaken impression that a major attack by the League of Dralm was imminent; thereby buying Kalvan and the Hostigi Army more time to escape as the Grand Host prepared to fight a two-pronged attack.