L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

At that moment, another figure attacked the armsman on Saryn’s right, driving a blade up into the man’s gut before the armsman’s mount ran him down.

Saryn went almost to her knees as she half parried, half blocked the heavy hand-and-a-half blade. Then she dropped her own blade and threw herself into a rolling dive past the second armsman, coming up behind the man’s mount, looking for her blade.

She didn’t need it. Fourth squad had surrounded the attackers, and in moments, cut all five out of their saddles.

Dealdron lay motionless on the stone beside the mounting block.

Saryn ran toward him.

Even before she knelt beside him, she could see that he was breathing, but that one arm was at an angle that indicated it was broken. She could also sense a mass of chaos within his chest, as if his ribs had been pressed in on his heart.

The arm could wait. She had to relieve the chest pressure…somehow.

She forced herself to concentrate, to come up with some strands, some flow of order, straightening…forcing…coercing…the ribs…muscles back…away. She could sense, despite the brilliant lightknives slashing into her eyes so intensely that she could not see, that the chaos-pressure on his chest had eased…mostly.

Slowly, she straightened, her eyes burning. Ought to be able to do more…somehow…

But there was nothing left within her to give, no control of order…nothing. She struggled to her feet.

“Commander!” Klarisa reined up beside Saryn and looked down. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t put any pressure on his chest…Don’t. His ribs are broken.”

“Are you all right?” demanded the squad leader.

“Don’t touch his chest,” Saryn said again. “I’m fine,” she began to add, when a wall of unseen black and white crashed over her, and she felt nothing.

Saryn woke up lying on a wide bed. Her head felt as though unseen hammers were beating on both sides of it, and she could barely see through the lightknives stabbing through her eyes. She thought it was light outside, but was it still fourday? After several moments, she could make out that Hryessa stood on one side of the bed, with Zeldyan on the other.

“Commander?” asked Hryessa.

“I’m here.” Saryn moved her fingers, her toes, and turned her head slightly. That made the unseen hammers beat harder. Finally, she sat up, if slowly, swinging her boots over the side of the bed. Her heels barely touched the heavy bedside carpet.

Hryessa extended a goblet. “It’s ale.”

Probably better than water here at the moment. Saryn took the crystal goblet with both hands and slowly sipped until she finished half the ale. The pounding subsided slightly. The lightknives did not. She handed the goblet back to Hryessa.

“I owe you once more,” said Zeldyan quietly.

“No…you don’t,” replied Saryn. “They wouldn’t have attacked you if I hadn’t come to Lornth.”

“If you had not come to Lornth, the same things would have happened, and I also would be dead. Like my son and my father.”

“You are kind, Lady.” Saryn was too tired to argue. “How long was I out?”

“Out?” asked Hryessa. “Oh…it is about a glass before sunset.”

“The same day? Fourday?”

“Of course.”

“Two, maybe three glasses,” Saryn murmured. “How is Dealdron?”

“He is in much pain, but he says nothing. He is in a small guest chamber. We did not touch his chest.”

Saryn stood, if slowly and deliberately, waiting to see if she felt dizzy. She did not. “I need to see him.”

“Commander…”

“He saved my life. I will see him.” Saryn walked slowly to the chamber doorway and into the corridor-where two guards stood, hands on the hilts of their blades.

“To the left, ser,” instructed Hryessa.

Saryn kept walking until she reached another door with two guards also stationed outside. She looked to Hryessa.

“We did not wish any of the dead Lornians’ friends to disturb him.” The captain paused. “I will wait here. He should see you both. It will ease his mind.”

Saryn opened the door and stepped inside. Zeldyan followed.

Dealdron lay on a bed narrower than the one on which Saryn had awakened but almost twice the width of a guard’s bunk. His left arm had been splinted, but his chest had not been bound. Saryn was glad for that, although she knew he would need some sort of brace before he could safely move, but she wanted to be there when he had his chest bound. His forehead was beaded with sweat. His eyes were open, but fixed overhead, almost unseeing.

Saryn stepped forward until she was standing beside the bed. Zeldyan moved up closer as well, to Saryn’s right.

“Dealdron,” Saryn said softly, “I’m here. Thank you.” What else could she say?

He blinked, then winced before speaking, slowly, as if each word were an effort. “I…overheard…knew they were up to something…told Klarisa to be ready…didn’t know for what…should have known…done more…tried…”

Even without trying, Saryn could sense the pain, but she had to know if she had done enough. Oh-so-carefully she extended the tiniest order-thread across his chest.

“…feels better…”

The worst of the chaos was gone, and his heart felt normal. As she began to feel dizzy, she released the probe, then laid a hand on his forehead. “You’ll be all right. Just try to sleep.”

“Are you…?”

“I’m fine, now, thanks to you.” She reached down and squeezed his good hand, gently.

“You are…my angel…Commander…” Dealdron closed his eyes, as if the words had taken every last bit of energy.

“Just rest…I’ll be back to see you later.” Saryn lifted her hand, turned, and walked slowly from the chamber.

You are my angel…my angel. His words rang in her ears…and in her thoughts.

“You care for him, do you not?” murmured Zeldyan.

“He’s never asked anything of me, except to please me. And he was willing to give his own life to save mine.”

“Would that there were more men like him.” Zeldyan paused. “Why is he so devoted to you?”

“I saved his life and challenged him to do his best at what he could.” What else could she say? And what was she going to do? For one thing, as soon as she’d recovered, she was going to make sure Dealdron healed-fully.

Then, she froze in place for a moment, recalling what Istril had said seasons before about understanding the price a woman might have to pay for any man who truly worshipped her. Can I pay that price? Should I?

She’d just have to see…as with everything else…But…somehow…she would.

Three days passed before the pounding in Saryn’s head fully subsided and another before she could see normally. Part of that was because after two days, she’d used more order to help when the healer had bound and braced Dealdron’s chest.

Just before midmorning on oneday, she walked down the wide corridor toward the small study, where she was to meet Maeldyn. The stern-faced lord-holder had quietly requested a private meeting, one that Saryn wasn’t sure she was anticipating with any pleasure, much as she trusted Maeldyn.

The Lord of Quaryn stood by the door to the study, waiting for Saryn. “Good morning, Commander.” Maeldyn bowed, then gestured toward the open door. “Shall we?”

“Thank you.”

Maeldyn followed her inside, then closed the door and seated himself across the square table from Saryn.

“You had some concerns,” offered Saryn.

“Two eightdays from now, we are to meet in Lornth to discuss what to do about an overlord and the succession of various other lord-holders,” began Maeldyn.