L. Modesitt - Arms-Commander

…All was well in Westwind in the days that followed the fall of Cyador, for though the winters were long and chill, Tower Black was warm and well provisioned, and the goods and plunder gained from the defeat of the Lornian forces fed the angels for a time, but only for a time.

Yet all was not well beyond the Westhorns, for to the east the Prefect of Gallos had sickened, and treachery infected his land. His youngest son removed his brothers and made himself ruler in all but name. Fearing the example of Westwind, the treacherous son first drove out all those from Analeria who believed that women and men should share equally in duties and rights, scourging them, and slaying any man who respected his consort. He declared that none could travel the Westhorns nor trade with the angels. Then he raised a mighty host to bring against the angels of Westwind. For he believed that, with the departure of Nylan, no mages of power remained upon the Roof of the World, and warriors though the remaining angels might be, they could not withstand the horde of armsmen that he led westward toward the heights of Westwind itself.

Yet Ryba marshaled all the angels, including those who had fled Gallos, upon a hill in the middle of a valley before a Gallosian force so numerous that they were locusts upon the land, ready to swarm over the small host of the angels and devour them. When they rode up that slope to smite and destroy the angels, Ryba signaled the sun, and the mountains trembled, and shuddered, and shuddered yet again, until half of a great mountain split away from its firmament and buried all but a few score of that horde, leaving no sign that any so engulfed in that wave of rock and soil had ever existed. And all Gallos mourned, and the darkness of grief hung heavy over the land, with orphans and widows weeping streams into the streets of towns and hamlets. And the Lord Prefect took to his deathbed.

Yet in the north, in the depths of Suthya, remained those who saw the calamities that befell Gallos as an opportunity for their own gain, and they spread coins across the troubled land of Lornth, suggesting to each lord who received such largesse that he, and he alone, should become the Overlord of all Lornth, because it was not fitting for Lornth to be ruled by a widow whose lord had failed to subdue the angels of Westwind.

As in all matters where knowledge is lacking, those in Suthya did not comprehend the depth and breadth of their folly, for Ryba dispatched Saryn of the black blades and her host to bolster the regency of Lornth. Yet when the lords of Lornth first beheld Saryn, they perceived but a woman of stature smaller than themselves, seeing even less than the fresh-faced undercaptain she resembled in form. And they gathered together, and said, “We will make an end of her and of the regency.” While they spoke thusly to each other, each in his heart desired to make an end of all those who would contest his claim to the lordship of the land, and each armed more and more of his retainers, thinking that he, and he alone, would triumph by the might of blades and bows. And some among them even enlisted the aid of their ancient foes to the west, enticing them with the honey of plunder and golds.

In the growing darkness that surrounded Saryn, as she crossed the contending holdings of Lornth, she yearned but to staunch the flow of blood and the jealous strife that plagued so many of those who held lands…yet until she raised her dark blades and the forces behind them, none save the regent widow would listen to reason, only to the lure of golds and power. And so it was in the end, that their greed and their blindness turned them against the widow regent, who but wanted to save and heal the land….

Book of Ayrlyn, Section I [Restricted Text]

Another long day’s ride brought Saryn and the regent’s party back into the palace courtyard just before sunset on oneday evening. As Saryn rode slowly toward the second barracks and the rear stables, she straightened in the saddle. Ahead were Westwind guards, standing in formation at attention, with Hryessa at one end.

“Present arms!”

Blades flashed into position, but something about the entire scene nagged at Saryn for a moment-until she looked more closely. There were three full squads of guards. Had Ryba sent two more squads? But as she rode closer, she could see the last squads consisted of unfamiliar faces, and some were very young. Had that many recruits come to Hryessa? Saryn just hoped that the recruiting had been voluntary-very voluntary. Even so, Saryn drew and raised a blade in response and led fourth squad past the arrayed guards to the stable. There, she had Klarisa dismiss fourth squad to unsaddling and grooming before she dismounted to meet Hryessa.

“Welcome back, Commander,” said the guard captain, with a grin.

“I see you have a few recruits,” Saryn said, smiling back.

“Yes, ser…and that is not all. There is almost another squad, but they are not well trained enough to join in a formal drill yet. We do not have enough mounts for all, either. Or blades, but Daryn has the old armorer’s forge, and he is working on that.”

“Captain,” said Saryn, torn between laughing and being appalled, “if you would explain?”

“Within a day of when you left, some of the girls who had been pressed into being harlots came to Shalya. They asked if they could become guards. As squad leader, Shalya came to me.” Hryessa shrugged. “From what I have seen, the Lornians do not care much for what happens to women without coins, and we will be able to use them. So I followed your instructions.”

“And?” prompted Saryn.

“We have over forty in training. I saw we would not have blades enough. I know the Marshal would not have food enough for so many in the winter to come. So I sent four guards with a message to the Marshal asking for what blades she could spare. She sent back the four guards, and ten more who volunteered, with a wagon. There were but ten more short swords, besides those carried by the new guards, but the wagon held many worthless or broken blades, and Daryn and some of his tools. The Marshal sent me a letter saying that sending Daryn would be best…because he was a man and would work harder for me at forging the blades we needed.”

“Daryn’s here? What about your children?”

“They came, too. No one minds. Oh…and she sent you a letter also.” From her tunic, Hryessa withdrew a sealed envelope and handed it to Saryn.

Much as she would have preferred to read the missive alone, Saryn opened it, breaking the seal and letting the wax fragments fall onto the paving stones of the courtyard. She paused as her eyes followed the wax for an instant. The scraggly grass around the courtyard was gone.

Another example of Hryessa’s initiative? She shook her head and turned her attention to the letter. She needed to know what the Marshal had written before she committed herself to anything else.

Saryn-

The future of Westwind depends on you, yet I can only spare what I have sent. With the recent influx of even more women from Analeria, we cannot feed more than what we have here now, possibly not even those if winter descends early. That is one reason why I could spare another half squad to support you.

If you can find a way to send flour or cheese or other staples before winter sets in, we would appreciate it.

Please remember what I told you in parting.

The signature was an ornate, single “R.”

Saryn lowered the missive. Just what had Ryba foreseen? She looked to Hryessa. “Exactly how did these…recruits know we would accept them?”

“You said the guards could go into the town. Some went to the cafes and the taverns, especially the Square Platter. They’re more friendly there.” Hryessa shrugged. “Word got out.”