John Ringo - There Will Be Dragons

“Ah! No! Mercy!” Herzer chuckled.

“You laugh, but I shall have no mercy on you!” she replied, shifting lower. “And let me just see if I can get a red-haired young lady out of your mind!”

“Who?” Herzer laughed then involuntarily sucked in a breath of air. “This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

The torchlit departure of the main guard force was surprisingly well attended; it seemed that everyone who was packed into the town had turned up.

“Myron, you and Daneh are in charge of the town while I’m gone,” Edmund said, quietly. “At least the administrative side. Kane is charge of defense. And the administration is: give Kane whatever he needs to defend the town.”

“Okay, Edmund,” the farmer said unhappily.

“Kane knows his part of the plan. Just give him what he needs.”

“Will do.”

He turned to Daneh and smiled. “Off to the wars.”

“Swaggerer,” she said, handing him a small wooden box.

He opened it up and wrinkled his brow at the device within. It appeared to be a set of spectacles set in a metal frame that was padded by stitched cosilk to fit against the skin. “And what is this?”

“I took an old set of your glasses and had Suwisa make it,” she replied. “It’s designed to go under your helmet. You know you’re blind as a bat beyond fifty feet without your glasses.”

“Thank you,” he said with a chuckle. “You were right, I should have had my eyes adjusted back when.”

“I’m always right,” she said. “Take care of yourself, Edmund Talbot.”

“Will do Mistress Ghorbani,” he replied, holding out his arms. “Do I get a kiss?”

“How about half a kiss,” she said, hugging him against her swollen belly and pecking him on the cheek. “You get the rest when you’re back, safe and sound.”

“Hi, Rachel,” Herzer said. “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“My father’s going off to war,” she said with a shrug. “I thought I should say goodbye.” She looked up at him in the lamplight and sighed. “And you too.”

“Rachel…” Herzer said and then paused awkwardly. “Rachel… I’m sorry about what happened with Daneh. Really I am. I just…”

“Herzer,” she said sharply, then seemed to shake herself. “Herzer, I had a lot of trouble with that. But… we’ve been friends for a long time. If Mother can forgive you and Dad can forgive you, so can I. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said sadly.

“What?” she asked in exasperation.

“I… I love you, Rachel,” Herzer said, desperately. “I have for years. I just… wanted you to know that, before.”

She looked at him with a stunned expression that faded to anger. “So you just wanted me to know that before you go off and get yourself killed? Thanks very much, Herzer Herrick.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Oh,” she breathed out, the anger going out with it. “I… I’m sorry. I know it’s not. Herzer, you’re a very good friend and you always will be my very good friend. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said miserably.

“Let that be enough for now,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “Come back. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “And… can we talk more then?”

“Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “Always.”

“Okay.”

“Fall in,” Gunny called quietly.

“I’ve got to go,” Herzer said, desperately.

“Bye, Herzer,” Rachel said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid. Again.”

“I’ll try,” he said, hurrying to his place.

The small force still made a brave sight, marching out through the gates of the stockade. The cavalry, commanded by Alyssa, led the cavalcade with the Blood Lords marching behind and the archers, mounted on horses, following along with a small pack train of mules and horses. Edmund rode immediately in front of the Blood Lords, dressed in full armor with his long-handled hammer tossed casually over one shoulder; behind him marched Gunny with a piper by his side. Herzer carried the guidon of the troop, the silver screaming eagle with its bundle of arrows in one talon and olive branch in the other, on a field of blue.

As they passed the gates Gunny led off the song.

They marched up to the Via Apallia, then passed over the Shenan bridge heading west.

“Where are we going?” Cruz muttered from the front rank. Everyone knew that the enemy was in the direction to the south. They seemed to be marching away from the oncoming force.

“Don’t know,” Deann replied as the same question was muttered among the others.

“Silence in the ranks,” Gunny called.

They followed the Via on a fast march to the west, segueing from “March of Cambreadth” to “Yellow Ribbon,” with the different parts of the force singing their particular versions, to “Grand Trunk Road” and “Drinking Bourbon.” The cavalry tried to get them to sing Garryowen but since it was impossible to march to, and the archers didn’t know the words, they had to sing it on their own. They continued on through the early morning rain, which required a song of its own, until they came to the Cryptopus Creek bridge.

At a wave to Alyssa from Edmund, the cavalry, less five troopers, broke into a trot and continued down the road as the rest of the band, crossed the river, broke into single file and turned south.

Their path was a narrow trail that followed the edge of the small river. It entered the tree-choked defile that led to the inner valley of Massan Mountain. The trail was narrow and bad and the troop was often forced to pause to shore it up for the following horses or clear the way of deadfalls. Even when they got into the valley itself the old track was barely passable but they made decent time by marching hard. There were brief breaks, mostly to rest the horses, but they didn’t even stop for a cooked lunch, eating parched corn and washing it down with water from the now much reduced stream. But by the time they reached the far end of the valley the sun was long gone over the high mountains to their west and it was starting to get dark.

“Camp,” Edmund called. “Watches but no palisades.”

The troop fell out into their well-practiced camp drill and Gunny and McGibbon set the watches split between the Blood Lords and the archers. The two groups didn’t mingle much but kept to their separate fires.

“So, what the hell is happening?” Cruz asked Herzer as they bolted their evening meal. Herzer had drawn the slot of cook and he had made up a simple bannock filled with monkey and bits of salted pork. “Why the hell did the cavalry take off west?”

“Dunno,” Herzer replied, thinking about the maps of the area. They were about as far away from being able to directly defend the town as it was possible to be.

’You were at the baron’s last night,” Cruz said. “He didn’t say anything?”

“No, he didn’t,” Herzer replied, not mentioning what Edmund had said on the subject. “And if he did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I think we’re going to head up the mountain,” Pedersen said. The decurion looked up at the black mass above them unhappily. “I hate that fisker.”

“Me too,” Deann said. “But if we are, we’d better get to bed early.” With that she strode out of the firelight and began breaking out her bedroll.