David Weber - War Maid's choice

Cassan twitched and twisted in the saddle as the forest stretching along his right flank came to sudden life. The fresh voices shouting that warcry were higher and lighter but no less savage, and he stared in disbelief as the war maids of Kalatha swarmed out of the trees. They were on foot, not mounted, and a Sothoii’s instinctive contempt for infantry-especially unarmored infantry women — welled up within him as he realized who and what they were. But only for an instant, for these women were past mistresses of the art of light infantry tactics and concealment. They’d filtered soundlessly forward in the shadows of the trees while Trisu occupied his attention, putting themselves in a perfect position to hit his own men from behind, and he hadn’t seen a thing. Not a thing! How in Fiendark’s name had they managed to get this close without his even seeing them?!

And then they were upon his armsmen, and they didn’t seem to care that they were on foot.

Warhorses screamed afresh as the war maids piled into the fray, short swords and daggers flashing ruthlessly, hamstringing the horses of men who were already locked in combat with Trisu’s mounted troops and helpless to defend themselves against an attack from the rear. The shrieking horses went down, spilling their riders, and the war maids were waiting when those armsmen fell. They swarmed over them before they could even start to rise, and if those armsmen were armored, that did them little good when they were taken two or three to one. War maids fell, as well, but they flooded through the ranks of Cassan’s men like the sea, and the surprise was devastating.

He gawked in disbelief as his entire right flank crumpled in chaos and confusion, and even as he watched, Trisu’s left pivoted, swinging in on the rubble of his own right, charging past their war maid allies to slam into the back of his left wing.

It was too much for men who were already confused, who knew they were far from home…who’d had one surprise too many. Sabers began to go up, raised hilt-first in token of surrender, and once it began, it spread like wildfire. Perhaps a third of his armsmen refused to yield, grimly determined to take as many of their enemies with them as possible, but there could be only one possible outcome.

For one endless moment, Cassan of the South Riding stared at the disastrous collapse of all his plans. Then he wrenched his horse’s head around and drove in his spurs.

“ Stand where you are! ” Baron Tellian bellowed as Swordshank’s armsmen started to race towards the gate and the bedlam of combat. They halted, staring over their shoulders at him, and he glared at them. “Get back into your positions! If those are friends of ours out there and they win, well and good! But that’s their job; your job is to protect the King!”

The armsmen stared at him for another handful of seconds, and then they slunk meekly back into their original lines. Yet even as they did, a chestnut courser with an eye of blue flame went bounding past them and out the gate with a redhaired wind rider in its saddle.

“ Leeana! ” Tellian shouted, but Gayrfressa was already through the gate in a rolling thunder of hooves.

Cassan turned his head, peering over his shoulder once more. There was no sign of pursuit yet, but it would be coming all too soon. He needed enough of a head start for his tracks to be lost in those of all the other fugitives who would shortly be fleeing the scene of his debacle. Where he’d go, what he’d do, in the wake of such utter disaster was more than he could begin to calculate at the moment, yet the first order of business was clear enough: to escape. To A huge chestnut mare burst through a screen of trees behind him, and he swallowed a strangled curse. His warhorse was already at full stretch, galloping all out despite the dangerous terrain, but the courser closed quickly, eating up the distance between them effortlessly, and blue fire glittered from its right eye socket. He didn’t know what that fire was, but somehow he knew he couldn’t escape it-that glittering flame would find him wherever he went, wherever he hid.

Despair flooded through him, and with it came a towering rage. It was over. Tellian had won. Everything Cassan had fought for throughout his entire life was gone, snatched away by the man he hated most in all the world. And on that courser, charging after him, was Tellian’s hradani-loving whore of a daughter-a woman who’d never trained to fight on horseback and who wasn’t even armored.

He bared his teeth, turning, bringing his horse back around and drawing his saber once more. Perhaps he’d lost, but he could take this one last exquisite vengeance. He could lay Tellian’s daughter dead on the ground and turn his triumph to dust and ashes in his mouth!

“Come to me, bitch!” he screamed, and charged to meet her.

They flashed towards one another, and he snarled triumphantly as he realized she didn’t even have a sword in her hands! He’d have to be careful of the courser, but he didn’t really care whether he lived or died now-not any longer. All that mattered was that he kill her before he died, and the fool was making it easy!

He rode right at her, saber extended in a long, straight lunge, anticipating the shock in his wrist as the steel drove into her and She wasn’t there.

Cassan’s eyes started to widen in astonishment as Gayrfressa broke to her right, impossibly quick for something so huge, and Leeana twisted sinuously in the saddle. His saber drove past her harmlessly, and he was still turning his head, trying to understand what had happened, when Gayrfressa thundered past him in the opposite direction and Leanna’s left foot came up under his left foot and heaved with savage power. The sudden pressure unbalanced him, and his saber flew from his grip as he clutched desperately after the pommel of his saddle.

It was too late. Surprised, already off-center from the lunge which had missed its target, Leeana’s lifting foot unbalanced him completely. He hit the ground with bone-crushing force, crying out as something shattered in his right shoulder. Slivers of anguish rocketed through him, and he shook his head groggily, dragging himself up as high as his knees. He had to get back on his feet, he had to Something flashed over his head. A kneecap rammed into his shoulder blades like a maul, and his left hand clawed uselessly at his suddenly blood-slick throat as the war maid garrotte bit deep. He gurgled, twisting frantically, and Leeana Hanathafressa crossed her wrists behind his head, set her shoulders, and twisted with all her strength.

The last sound Cassan Axehammer ever heard was the crunching snap of his own neck.

Varnaythus stared into his gramerhain, jaw tight while echoes of disbelief reverberated deep in his eyes.

Impossible. Everything had gone perfectly- perfectly! — and that bastard Tellian had turned it around on him anyway. After all his years of effort, his plans, the risks he’d run-after he’d gotten every piece into position despite all the obstacles and every one of his Lady’s demands-all of it had been torn apart by the last minute interference of one miserable mage, a mangy pack of war maids, one minor lord warden…and a single meddling wind rider who seemed to be almost as hard to kill as her never to be sufficiently accursed husband! It couldn’t have happened, yet it had.

Disbelief turned into crackling fury as a tall, slim, redhaired young woman and a huge chestnut courser cantered up to the smoking ruins of a hunting lodge. The young woman slid from the saddle, crossed to where her father stood beside the King of the Sothoii and dropped something round at Markhos’ feet. The King rolled the round object to one side with the toe of his boot, and Cassan Axehammer’s dead, astounded eyes stared up at the monarch he’d tried to murder.