Lynn Flewelling - The Oracle's Queen

“I’ve seen no sign of any,” he replied.

“Good.”

Tamír rode among the wings, speaking with the captains as they and their warriors shared a cold meal. They wanted no fires to alert the enemy. It was a clear night and even the smallest flame would be visible for miles. Each company of archers along the beach had a fire laid ready, with a cup of firechips to throw on when the time came.

Silence was ordered, for sound carried, too. Tamír stood with her guard, watching and listening.

“There,” Saruel whispered at last. “Can you see the glimmer of the sails? They’re sailing without lanterns.”

Wizards saw better than most in the dark, but Tamír could soon make out the scattered brightness of sails catching the moonlight. Soon they could hear the creak of ropes and the snap of canvas.

The first enemy vessels entered the cove mouth, unaware of the welcome that awaited them, and the first longboats were lowered. The boats were strongly rowed, and skimmed swiftly shoreward.

Tamír and her Companions stood at the center of the beach with bows in hand. Nyanis stood with them, and one of the archer captains. At her signal, Nyanis scattered a few firechips onto the dry wood and flames flared up. In an instant other fires leaped up along the beach. Tamír grinned at Ki as they heard the first shouts of alarm from the approaching boats.

Ki handed her an arrow tipped with a knot of pitch-soaked rag. She nocked the shaft, lit the head, and fired it high into the air. It was too late for the Plenimaran boatmen to retreat. Two hundred Skalan archers had already drawn on Tamír’s signal and loosed a deadly, flaming volley at the enemy.

Hundreds of arrows lit the sky, and for a moment the enemy boats cast shadows on the water. Then the shafts found their mark and darkness returned, filled with screams. Another volley was loosed, then another, and a fourth. More shouts and cries of pain echoed across the water.

As Tharin had predicted, however, the Plenimarans were not immediately dismayed. Answering volleys whistled back through the air. Ki and the other Companions threw up their shields around Tamír, catching half a dozen points. Other arrows struck the ground around them, sticking quivering in the sand.

“Arkoniel, now!” she ordered.

The wizard cast a spinning black disk on the air a few yards in front of him, and Lynx and Ki covered Tamír with their shields as she sent a flaming shaft through it. The shaft disappeared and the disk collapsed.

An instant later the sail of a distant ship caught fire. The flames spread with unnatural speed, driven by Saruel’s charm.

“It worked!” Arkoniel crowed.

The flames quickly claimed the masts and spread to the deck below. In the red glare of the flames, they could see sailors abandoning the vessel.

He and the other wizards cast more of the spells, until ten ships were burning. They’d scattered the attacks among the fleet; the wind carried bits of burning sail to other vessels. The harbor was bright with the light of burning ships.

The Plenimarans managed a few more ragged volleys, but they lacked the concentration of the Skalan assault.

“They’re turning back!” a lookout called and the cry went down the line.

The Skalan warriors gave their war cries and beat their shields in a deafening roar of defiance. As it died away, however, Tamír heard a horn from their northern flank, signaling an attack there.

“They must have gotten a force ashore up the coast!” Tharin cried. “Companions, guard your queen!”

“Nyanis, hold the longboats with your archers,” Tamír ordered. “Companions, to your horses!”

Tamír rallied her cavalry and galloped north to meet the foe there. It was impossible to make out exact numbers in the darkness, but the moon cast enough light to see a sizable force marching quickly to meet them. They clashed half a mile north of the cove, horse against foot, and the battle cries rang out on both sides.

“For Skala and the Four!” Tamír cried, pressing the Skalan cavalry’s advantage and riding the Plenimarans down.

Slashing left and right with her sword, she hewed her way through upraised swords and pikes. Midnight reared at her command, lashing out with steel-shod hooves. The Plenimarans’ shouts turned to screams under her onslaught and hot blood spurted up her arm and into her face. Battle lust seized her, driving away any thought of pain or fatigue. She was dimly aware of Ki shouting something behind her.

She looked around and spotted her standard waving over the heads of the massed foot soldiers, and Ki and the others fighting frantically to catch up with her.

Suddenly too many arms were reaching for her, hands grasping and pulling, trying to drag her from the saddle. She laid about with her sword, driving back all she could reach. Midnight snorted and bucked, kicking out at those trying to slash his legs below the barding. Tamír clung on with her thighs and twisted her rein hand in his mane. The high bow of the saddle kept her steady as the horse tried to rear again. She reined him down, concerned that there were too many sharp blades ready to slash at his underbelly. Someone grabbed her by the ankle and tried to yank her down.

Just as she was certain she was going to fall, the man who had her foot suddenly let go and fell away. Righting herself in the saddle, Tamír looked down to see Brother’s pale face among the press. Men falling dead without a blow marked his wake as he disappeared again.

Then Ki was with her, screaming with rage as he and Tharin cut down the Plenimarans still clinging to Tamír’s legs and harness. Her other Companions soon caught up and cleared a circle around her.

Lynx was struck in the shoulder by a pike and nearly toppled from his saddle, but Tyrien rode the pikeman down. Just beyond them, Una and Hylia were fighting side by side, widening the swath of open ground around Tamír. Kyman and his riders were pushing the enemy back on her right. In the distance she could make out Jorvai’s banner waving above the fray.

“Fight through and wheel!” Tamír shouted, brandishing her sword toward the thin line of enemy soldiers that stood between them and the beach.

They cut their way through and turned to crash into the enemy line again. They might be outnumbered, but their horses gave them the advantage and their first charge broke the lines. They swept through the disorganized men like a scythe through a grainfield, cutting them down and trampling them under their horses’ hooves.

“They’re breaking!” Tharin shouted.

Tamír heard a wild shout of victory and looked to see Nikides—bloody-faced and cheering—brandishing his darkened blade, with young Lorin beside him, grim and equally blooded.

“To me!” Tamír called, rallying them for another pass.

The enemy broke, trying to flee back to the boats they’d come in on. Ships were anchored here, too, and Tamír had no wizards to burn them.

Tamír and her riders rode the fleeing warriors down, driving them into the water, then pulled back and let Kyman’s archers finish them off and burn their boats. Some managed to escape, rowing back into the darkness, but behind them the corpses of their fallen comrades littered the sand and rolled in the swell of the incoming tide.

They rode back to the beach where Nyanis’ archers stood ready to resume their attack. Tamír dismounted by one of their watch fires.

“The dogs have gone back to their kennels for now,” he reported, looking her over. She was covered in blood, and her tabard was stained and torn. “You look like you had a good time.”

“A bit too good,” Tharin said softly, glowering at her. “You left your guard behind and came close to losing Ki in the bargain.”

“Then you’d all better learn to ride faster,” she retorted. He was right, of course, but she wasn’t about to admit it.