L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

She managed to keep moving and deliver a back-cut, enough to get clear and begin to create a third chaos-and-order-flow knife. The riders in the third company-also in orange and black-had slowed somewhat, and that gave Saryn a few moments more as she found herself on the west side of the road. She turned the chestnut back toward the road and urged him forward toward the third company.

Since so far as she could see, there was not another company behind the third one but only some scattered riders with wagons and pack animals, she widened the chaos-blade slightly before releasing the short sword and drawing her last blade.

A wider swath of armsmen and their mounts fell before her, and were scattered by the forces she had wielded. Then, lightknives and unseen hammers pounded her eyes and her skull, but not quite fiercely enough to immobilize her, as she turned the gelding back toward the rear of the third company.

How she looked, she had no idea, but when she rode toward the disoriented rebel Lornian armsmen at the rear, they all turned their mounts and scattered away from her.

From that moment on, the resistance of the rebels seemed largely to melt away, although some individual armsmen held on, swinging their huge blades until one guard or another wore them down. Before all that long, Saryn reined up and surveyed the area, through vision intermittently blurred by lightknives.

A handful of riders in blue and gray spurred their mounts into the drying swamps, clearly trying to reach the river. Another broken squad in orange and black had managed to escape the Lornians and raced southwest, possibly toward refuge in Masengyl, or elsewhere.

Less than a quarter glass later, the road held only the Westwind and regency forces, and the wounded who could not escape…and all too many bodies.

Should we pursue the stragglers? She shook her head. One way or another, they needed to find out what had happened.

Saryn glanced farther north along the road…and saw another group of armsmen. Had she missed a whole company? No…they were the wounded, those who had been wounded earlier and who had followed the more able armsmen…and who had hung back when the regency forces had attacked.

There are not that many. Her entire abdomen tightened. That was hardly a good sign. As she watched, some of the riding wounded turned their mounts away out into the fields and grasslands to the west. The others waited, almost dumbly, as if half-stunned.

Saryn rode toward Hryessa, who had organized fifth and sixth squads to sweep through the dead and wounded, while the other four squads took up stations around the battle area.

“Ser.”

“Where are their survivors?”

“Riding away from us as fast as they can. They’re all heading sort of south once they get away from us. I’ve got most of the guards ready to attack if they try to regroup.”

“What do our casualties look like?”

“Ten dead, maybe more. Four or five who might not make it. Another ten or so with wounds that should heal.”

“Have them finish up the sweep of the bodies, but make it quick, for blades and for coins or jewelry, and see if there are any that look like lord-holders.”

“Yes, ser.”

Maerkyn rode toward the two, reining up. “Second Lornian company is reformed, Commander. Three dead, ten wounded. We’ve taken station around the regent.”

“Thank you, Undercaptain. I appreciate that.”

“Might I ask, Commander…You never offered them terms,” Maerkyn said. “You…you just attacked and slaughtered them.”

“They’d already declared rebellion against the regency, and they were part of those rebel lords who had already twice attacked forces bearing the regency banner.” Saryn paused, then asked, “Whose colors are orange and black?”

“Lord Kelthyn’s, I believe. The blue and gray belong to Lord Jaffrayt.”

Saryn frowned. She had seen no armsmen in brown and yellow or in the red trimmed in black. Had both Henstrenn and Keistyn taken the east road back toward their holdings-or toward Lornth-knowing that Saryn and Zeldyan would be on the river road, and leaving the other two lord-holders to face Saryn and the Lornians? She wouldn’t have put it past either Henstrenn or Keistyn. Then she nodded. “If you would tell the regent that I need to find out some information, but that I will join you both shortly to let her know what we’ve discovered.”

Maerkyn nodded politely. “Yes, ser.” He turned his mount and headed back up toward the hillside where the Lornians had formed around the regent.

“He is much more respectful,” said Hryessa.

“Yes.” I can’t imagine why. Saryn couldn’t help the sarcastic tenor of her thoughts. “I need to question the rebel wounded back there.” She gestured.

“You need some guards.” Hryessa gestured toward the nearest guards in fifth squad.

Saryn waited until she had six guards flanking her before she rode slowly northward, finally reining up short of one of the wounded, an armsman in gray and blue, with an arm strapped to his chest and a dressing covering what remained of his left ear. He sat almost lopsided in his saddle.

“Where did you get wounded?”

“Up north…the villa outside Carpa…”

“What happened there?” pressed Saryn.

“We fought…the squad leaders said we won.”

“You didn’t see what happened?”

“Some of them got away…some of ’em got us…” The wounded man just looked at Saryn. “That’s all I know.”

Sensing that he had told her all he could, she moved on to the next man, who had a crudely splinted leg that stuck out. She wondered how he’d mounted, unless his comrades had lifted him onto the horse. “What did you see?”

“Not much…” His eyes widened. “You’re one of those…angels…”

“What did you see?” Saryn repeated.

“Lots of fighting…we were the first…”

After questioning close to fifteen armsmen-all those who seemed lucid-Saryn broke off the interrogation and rode back to the hillside to find Zeldyan, Hryessa, and Maerkyn.

They rode closer once she reined in the gelding.

Hryessa looked to Saryn. “Commander…your attack killed both Lord Jaffrayt and Lord Kelthyn.”

“They deserved it,” offered Maerkyn, if under his breath.

“That may be,” replied Zeldyan, “but they are only part of the rebellion. Take their personal effects and signets and save them. Do not worry about burying them.” She looked to Saryn. “You do not have good news. That I can tell. What is it?”

Saryn sensed that the regent already suspected what Saryn was about to report. “Lady…I have questioned some of the rebel wounded. They were the ones who were wounded in an earlier battle…outside Carpa.”

Zeldyan’s face stiffened. “What happened?”

“Those we’ve questioned believe that they won, but they all admit that at least some of the defenders escaped.”

The regent shook her head, and Saryn could sense the despair.

“We will just have to see, Lady. Perhaps other lords came to your father’s aid. It could be that they took your son to safety.”

“My son…that is possible. My father…” Zeldyan’s lips tightened, and her eyes brightened. “We must press on.”

“We should be ready shortly, Lady.” Saryn could sense the dread within the regent. Given what almost certainly awaited them at The Groves, neither of them was looking forward to what they would find.

Just before the harvest sun sank over the half-harvested fields to the west of the river road, Saryn and the Westwind guards led the way into the old town of Carpa. Almost every shutter was closed tight, and the only creature Saryn saw, between the slowly diminishing flashes of the lightknives stabbing into her eyes, was a brown-and-tan dog that ran down a narrow alleyway. The sound of hoofs on stone echoed in the slowly dimming light.