S. Stirling - The Protectors war

Eilir cast about, going to one knee occasionally, sometimes sniffing at a horse apple. A day old, but some's fresh; oat-fed horses, too-see, there's some grain that spilled from a feed bag. They were here during the last of the horse fair and left only an hour or two ago. They didn't let their horses graze, either.

That was odd; the fields about were Mackenzie land, of course, but unclaimed by any dun, and they were tall with grass. Why waste feed?

Bandits? Eilir asked. Waiting to jump people coming back from the fair?

That was why they'd gone on a scout-about after the fair, rather than riding straight back to Dun Juniper or west to Larsdalen. Astrid did more of her own looking. No. All big horses, well-shod. Men in boots with built-up heels, wearing armor, from the way they sank in.

Another of the Dunedain waved from deeper within the woods, where a small creek ran in a hollow. Campfires, he signed in broad form. Forty, fifty men and more horses.

Definitely not bandits, Eilir signed. Too well ordered.

Yrch! Astrid replied. Servants of the Lidless Eye.

Eilir nodded, her face tight with worry. Then: Look!

A hazelnut bush that fronted the edge of the woods had been turned into a blind; someone had put a blanket down, a ragged tattered one, and not bothered to take it up again. Astrid crawled through, wrinkling her nose at the sweat smell: and whoever it was hadn't bothered to go far when he pissed, either. That gave her a view of the white ribbon of road ahead, over the scrub-grown field. The road to Dun Juniper, which Lady Juniper's party would have taken a few hours ago; unlikely they'd try to push through to home, that would mean traveling long after dark. More probably they'd camp out This was an ambush party, she signed. Eilir gasped, and Astrid went on: Too many men for spies. They probably came in disguised as horse traders and then hid here. And then followed.

Eilir's face firmed. Anamchara, you go for Lord Bear. He's only a few hours away, there and back-he was heading for the southern crossing to Corvallis.

We'll send one of the others.

No! It has to be you. He'll listen. We'll follow the enemy directly.

But you've only got six Rangers here!

There's better than thirty warriors with Mom. We'll do what we can : but get them here, and hurry! They've got something worse than just an attack planned.

The dark was dense when Mathilda Arminger awoke in her tent. The night was just a little too cool to be comfortable on top of the bedding, but her blanket and the warm curled lump of Saladin made it cozy. She stirred and yawned, wiggling for a more comfortable position-Saladin just didn't move when he was comfortable, and that was that. That was one reason she'd been happy enough when Lady Katrina had insisted she have a tent of her own, separate from the one Lady Juniper and Rudi had. Then Rudi had said he intended to sleep by the side of his new horse, and there had been an argument: although Katrina had seemed to get along well with the young guard assigned to her.

"Mmmm?" she said drowsily, realizing that a noise outside the tent had woken her.

Now the flap opened, letting in a slight wash of starlight, bright by comparison to the utter blackness a moment earlier. Katrina was there, but when she came to kneel by the cot Mathilda could see that she wore a mail vest and had her hair tucked under a light helmet. A crossbow was cradled in her hands.

Mathilda shot upright, excitement making her blood race. "What's up, Kat?" she said.

"We're taking you home, Princess," she replied, speaking quietly. "Get up and get dressed. Quickly now. Don't make any noise."

She scurried to obey. A rescue, like the stories!

Another figure knelt at the opening of the tent and whispered. Mathilda recognized Baron Liu's voice, and the edge of his heavy sword glittered slightly. He was in armor, too, a laced-together cuirass of finger-sized lamellar steel plates and mail sleeves and leggings, and a darkened helmet; the harness gave off a muted sound as he moved, a low sibilant rustling.

"Any problem with the guard?" he said softly.

"No," Kat answered. "Everyone knew he was with me, and he was asleep when I made sure of him. The perimeter?"

"They heard the little glass balls tinkle, and then they all went sleepy-byes," Liu said. "This is good stuff."

Abruptly, Mathilda recognized the smell from Katrina's right sleeve: it was blood. Surprise rocked her silent for an instant, and then Kat's hand went over her mouth.

"These are your father's enemies, Princess. Now hold still for a moment."

She pulled out a small leather case and opened it. Starlight gleamed on a set of hypodermics; the woman lifted one and tapped it, letting a bead of clear liquid trickle down the needle. There was a slight sting in the girl's arm, and the plunger went home. The spot itched and burned, and then a rush of faintness overtook her for a moment, as if the fire were spreading throughout her body.

"What is -" she began, then gave a muffled squawk of indignation as Katrina clamped her hand back across her mouth.

"Princess, I have your parents' permission to tie you up and gag you if I have to. Now are you going to come along like a good girl?" Mathilda nodded, and her tutor went on: "That was to keep you safe. I took some myself and the feeling goes away in a few minutes. Now let's get ready to go."

She turned in surprise as Liu crawled into the tent, then hissed: "What are you doing, you idiot?"

Liu was upending the leather case that held her books and papers. "Where is it?" he said. "Where is it?"

"Where's what? We've got the princess; let's go before the kilties catch on!"

"Fuck the kilties; that's why we've got the gas! You think the Protector wants us to scoot and go with a chance like this? And where's the book?"

"The book?'" Katrina's face went fluid with shock.

"Yeah, bitch, the book you took from my castle at Gervais," Liu said tightly. His hand moved, and the heavy sword twitched; it was suddenly under Katrina's chin. "And don't ask why. Just don't. Get it!"

Katrina's hand had left Mathilda's mouth as she made an abortive grab at the hilt of the long dagger at her belt.

Mathilda spoke, in a small, quiet voice with a shiver in it, younger than her years. "I loaned it to Rudi," she said. "I'd told him about it. That's why I said to bring it."

Eddie Liu began to swear, softly and venomously. Mathilda swallowed; she knew what most of the words meant, but she also knew there was something very wrong if Baron Liu was talking that way to her.

"Where is the little shit?"

"Eddie!" she whispered. "You're scaring me!"

"Where is he?"

"And here I thought you were a man of initiative," Juniper said, leaning her chin on one palm. "Tsk, tsk. I go to all the trouble of getting my son his own tent-"

On the other side of the table, Nigel Loring laughed softly. "And I thought, dear lady, that it was simply that he must have one if young Miss Arminger had her own."

"He certainly thought so."

His smile died slightly. "Are you quite sure?" he said.

"Quite. As if a little bird had whispered in my ear." Or Herself.

He moved the lamp to the other side of the camp table and reached out both hands; she took them in hers. "I'm a bit older than you-ten years-"

"Oh, hush, Nigel; I discovered my first gray hair some time ago. We're neither of us teenagers in lust. We're middle-aged, and friends. Let's see where that takes us." An impish smile. "And I do covet that fair body of yours, you know."

"Which I assure you is mutual."

They were leaning towards each other when the first shout sounded outside.

Rudi Mackenzie bolted upright at the soft thud of steel in flesh. He made an instinctive grab for the book that slid off his chest, then reached for the knob on the lantern beside his cot. Then he froze; the starlight was just enough for him to see the glitter of cold steel at the entrance to the tent. A huge gauntlet clamped on his ankle with bruising force and yanked him through the entrance and onto the turf beyond in a single motion; behind him the lantern toppled sideways, and there was a rush of flame as the glass shattered and burning wood alcohol rushed out across canvas and cloth.