Joel Shepherd - Haven

“Victory!” Myklas yelled. “Victory for Lenayin!” Cheers and laughter came from the shore.

“I'm Lenayin too, you idiot!” she snarled at him, struggling vainly.

“We Lenays should fight each other more often!” Myklas laughed. “No matter the outcome, a Lenay always wins!”

“And one always loses,” Sasha muttered, ceasing her struggles. Myklas picked her up and dumped her in the shallows. He was wise enough to escape quickly to avoid further retaliation, and walked up the lakeside with arms raised to the cheers of watching men.

Sasha picked herself up from the water. “Sparring tonight!” she demanded of him. “No pads!”

Myklas turned to give her a reproachful look. Lenays always wore pads when sparring, not from cowardice, but because sword practice, even with wooden stanches, was not something done with restraint. Without pads, one of them would get seriously hurt. All present knew it was not likely to be her.

“Sister, truly, there is no need for violence.”

“Perish the day when a Lenay should say such a thing,” Sasha retorted, to more cheers from the observers. Myklas laughed. He bowed to her, and walked off. He knew her temper, and knew not to take such threats seriously…when directed at him , at least.

Sasha sighed in disbelief and shook water from her hair like a dog. Her heart thumped hard from exertion, and the pleasure of a hard yet harmless contest. For the first time in a long time, she felt nearly…good. She smiled. Annoying, naive brat though he was, he knew how to cheer up his sister.

Behind Myklas, a line of Hadryn cavalry looked on. They seemed neither as impressed nor amused as she.

Sasha recovered her unnerved horse from the Isfayen man who held him and checked the animal for any sign of strain. As she did so, she noticed a new commotion on the shore, a rider in Bacosh colours dismounting amidst the royal party.

Sasha handed off her horse once more, reclaimed her sword, and splashed dripping from the lake-luckily the sun was bright and the sky clear, and in another hour she would be dry. Isfayen men gave her bemused looks as she passed, perhaps intrigued to see that the great Synnich-ahn was, after all, just a girl whose brothers treated her as poorly as any other.

She arrived at the conversation with the messenger, sword and bandoleer hitched over a soaked shoulder, and edged through the small crowd. Koenyg and Damon stood at the gathering's centre, talking to the Bacosh man.

“What's going on?” she asked shortly, with no qualms about interrupting the conversation. The messenger looked at her warily, eyeing sodden clothes and bedraggled hair.

“The Regent sends Sofy to Tracato,” said Koenyg, less annoyed with her interruption than he might have been. “He offers for you to go with her, as a guardian.” Sasha just looked at him. Koenyg waited until he realised he wasn't going to get a response. “I had thought to agree.”

Sasha waved the messenger away. He looked affronted. Sasha stared at him, and adjusted the bandoleer on her shoulder. Koenyg scratched his forehead, and indicated the messenger to leave. Sasha considered waving the others away also, but they were Lenay great lords and officers, and would hear of this discussion anyhow. One could not just dismiss such men in Lenayin.

“No,” Sasha said to Koenyg. “I won't go.”

“I would like Sofy to have a protector,” Koenyg replied, his gaze hard. “Wouldn't you?”

“Brother, if that nest of scorpions wishes Sofy or me or both of us dead, there is little we could do…unless you spare me twenty guards and an entire personal staff.”

Koenyg frowned. “You think Sofy's life at risk from her own people?”

“ We are her people,” Sasha said firmly. “Her married family are not. The Army of the Bacosh is confident now they've won their major battle, they wonder if they need us anymore. Already they bicker over how they will divide these lands amongst themselves, and we are not party to any of that. We become a distraction, brother…and so the Regent sends Sofy to Tracato, to get her out of the way. And he'd love to have me out of the way too, no doubt.”

“So important you've become in your own mind,” Koenyg sighed, with faint disbelief.

Sasha did not bother replying. She had a following in the Army of Lenayin-she was Nasi-Keth, and some men's sympathies lay with the serrin. She did not wish to state so boldly what the leaders of the Army of the Bacosh feared from her, not here. No doubt they felt the Army of Lenayin would be a far more predictable ally beneath Koenyg's sole control, with Sashandra Lenayin elsewhere.

“I could order you to go,” Koenyg suggested.

“You could order pigs to fly,” Sasha said flatly. “Sofy is under more threat with me than without me; she doesn't need all my enemies coming after her as well. My place is here, with the Army of Lenayin.”

“Fine,” said Koenyg, dismissing her with a word. “Sofy will go to Tracato. I would send someone with her, though. I will think on it.”

He walked off, and the small gathering dispersed.

Jaryd approached her and Damon, and beckoned them aside to the lake. “There is some word of resistance ahead,” he said. “The Army of the Bacosh is beset by skirmishers; it seems their forward light cavalry suffer defeats.”

“That will be Kessligh,” Sasha said quietly.

Damon nodded. “Men of this army will not be happy to hear it.”

“Some say Kessligh has betrayed Lenayin,” said Jaryd.

“Others say Koenyg leads us on a fool's errand,” Damon countered. “I do not like this mood the men are in. We are not only defeated, we doubt ourselves.”

“Kessligh can't slow the entire Bacosh Army for long,” said Sasha. “He's being a nuisance, buying time for the Rhodaani Steel to get back to Enora. But if he keeps it up, we'll be gaining on the Bacosh Army in a few days.”

A silence followed. Gaining on the Army of the Bacosh would put the Army of Lenayin into direct conflict for the first time since the Battle of Shero Valley. Against forces led by Kessligh. Sasha looked at the ground. She wished she did not feel anything, that she could make herself like stone.

Damon left to attend to other matters. Jaryd remained with Sasha. Sasha guessed his thoughts.

“Sofy will be fine,” she said quietly.

“You know I don't believe that,” said Jaryd. Sasha gazed at him. There were four rings in his right ear now. His light brown hair was approaching collar length, haphazard about his face. In past weeks, he'd grown to become Damon's most trusted advisor, a young man who shared Damon's distaste for lordly pretension, and favoured the most direct solution to every problem.

“Yes,” said Sasha, “but unlike you, I have concern only for her safety, not her chastity.” Jaryd's look was reproachful. Sasha sighed. “I'm sorry. Jaryd, Koenyg must send a party of Lenays with Sofy to Tracato. It's the proper form, for an alliance between armies-Tracato is important, Lenayin should have representation. Would you like to go?”

“Is that wise?” Jaryd asked.

“Most people would think that a fine joke,” Sasha said wryly. “You, asking that question of me.”

Jaryd snorted. Then laughed, humourlessly. “I'll go if you tell me to,” he said.

“Jaryd.” Sasha stood close to him, and stared him in the eyes. “Do you love her?”

Jaryd looked away, across the lake, and sighed. “Woe befall me if I do.”

A landless ex-lord could have no hope of consummating such a love, he meant. Such a man could throw his life away in pursuit of dangerous things that were beyond him by the gods' own law.

“Jaryd, Koenyg's right. Sofy would be safer with some protection, at least. Just not mine. And if not you, then who? Who would do it better?”