Joel Shepherd - Haven

Andreyis took a bite of the remaining apple, then switched it to his bad hand so he could stroke the mare's nose with his good one. He measured her flank with a practised eye, noting the muscle tone, the shape of the hind quarters.

“She's being used as a cart horse,” he observed. “Pity-her breeding's better than that. She's not very old.”

A priest, passing with an armful of hay, overheard him. “Cavalry horse,” he explained, in heavily accented Torovan. “She have two battle. Second battle, she nearly kill. She pull down, rider pull off, kill, very bad. She lose friend horse. Now, she no like loud noises. Cavalry, they give her to us.” He pointed to the mare's other side in passing. Andreyis looked, and saw weapon scars.

“Poor girl,” he murmured, empathising. He gave her the rest of the apple.

“You do ride horses,” Yshel observed, watching. “How many horses did you care for?”

“Between twelve and twenty, depending on foals. I shared duties with Sasha, Kessligh, and one other. And sometimes lads from the town.”

“I grew up in Li'el in Saalshen,” said Yshel. “It's a city, or a large town, I suppose. A farmstead on the outskirts raised horses. I would go there and help the ranchers. Horses made me want to travel, to join the talmaad. I never really thought that they would take me to a war.”

Back at the stable doors, there came the sound of shouting. Andreyis and Yshel turned and looked. An officer of the Steel had entered, and was looking for able-bodied prisoners. He seemed disappointed to find so few, as none of the Lenays in the group had surrendered while still able to fight.

“I'd better go,” said Andreyis. “Before he tries to make the dying walk.”

The Steel officer looked haggard and worn, limping with a recent injury, as he inspected the prisoners. Finally finding nine who could work, he had them escorted by three Steel regulars out of the walled courtyard and onto the main one.

Here the flow of ordinary Enorans had increased, a steady stream of families all trudging or riding in the same direction, heads down, away from the advancing Army of the Bacosh.

The Steel officer led the prisoners up the wide stone stairs of the High Temple, and past two more soldiers guarding the huge doors.

Within, the air was cool and still. Light spilled from rows of small windows across the largest indoor space Andreyis had ever seen. It felt like something from a dream, vast and echoing. To stand beneath the high roof and gaze up at the patterned glass, it seemed to Andreyis that this must indeed be a house of gods.

“Right,” said the officer, tiredly. “Anyone here speak Torovan? Understand Torovan?” Blank stares from most.

“I'll translate,” said Andreyis.

“Good.” The officer pointed across the huge, open floor to the rows of pews before the altar. “You see those benches? I want them smashed up, make a nice big pile before the altar. Then we'll search through the back rooms and cellars to find anything else that will burn.”

“Burn?” Andreyis stared at him. “Why?”

“Because we're not going to leave this place to the Larosans, that's why,” said the officer. “This place, we're going to burn down.”

Sasha followed the rear of Damon's horse up the forested ridge road. The Lenay party emerged onto the crest of the ridge, with a wide view of rumpled northern Enora. Low, rocky hills complicated the way ahead, beneath an overcast sky and misting rain.

Koenyg halted his horse on the last patch of grass before slippery rocks became too treacherous near the edge of the cliff. Beside him, a young Rhodaani noble pointed in the direction of Shemorane. Sasha made out a distant valley, but too far, and on too gloomy a day, to see any more than that.

The Larosan party they had come to meet emerged from the opposite line of trees, waiting in the safety of cover. Their leader headed for Koenyg, and Sasha invited herself, pushing her horse between her two brothers.

“Is it true that the Army of the Free Bacosh has halted before Shemorane?” Koenyg asked sharply.

The Larosan lord nodded. “There are two bridges down on the river, destroyed by the Enorans. The Regent Balthaar Arrosh seeks to ford the river further downstream, and enter Shemorane from the east.”

“With his entire army?”

“The Regent decrees that he shall enter Shemorane, and return the Shereldin Star to the High Temple,” the lord insisted, solemnly. “That is his highest sacred duty. The Army of the Free Bacosh cannot progress without their Regent.”

“While in the meantime,” said Koenyg, “we're letting the Enoran and Rhodaani Steel not only get away, but regroup and join forces.”

“The priests will have made him do it,” said Sasha, in Lenay so the lord would not understand. “They've been dreaming of returning the Shereldin Star to the High Temple for two centuries. No way will they allow the army to pass Shemorane without some great ceremony.”

“The priests should understand that Shemorane is not truly within their possession until the Steel and the talmaad are defeated. This great ceremony of theirs is a dangerous illusion,” Koenyg replied. Neither Sasha nor Damon disagreed. “What news of Ilduur?” Koenyg asked the lord in Torovan once more.

“No news. It seems the Ilduuri will not come.” There was a smugness to his voice.

“You've sent envoys to Ilduur,” said Sasha, staring at him. “You've made a deal with them.”

The lord shrugged. “My Lord Regent's policies are vast and cunning. What you describe is not impossible, though I have not heard of it.”

“Fat chance he has of actually keeping his word with Ilduur,” Sasha muttered in Lenay.

“The Regent Arrosh commands that the Army of Lenayin should continue to advance on the Steel in the meanwhile,” continued the lord. “To the west, where the hills end, and open ground makes for a fast march. The Army of Lenayin is light, while the Army of the Bacosh, and the Steel, are heavy. If you move fast, you could catch them there.”

Koenyg listened a little more, then dismissed the lord, and contemplated the view ahead.

“The Regent Arrosh commands , does he?” Sasha muttered.

“Rest it, Sasha.” Koenyg had no map to hand, but Sasha had seen him studying maps every night, staring until every line and feature was memorised. “Last we heard of the Steel, they are too far ahead to be caught as the messenger suggests. They will have merged forces by now.”

“The Regent hopes our pursuit will draw Kessligh's forces,” said Damon. “His irregulars grow stronger each day. The Regent's army has few forward scouts, they do not survive long otherwise. I think this a ploy to make us take the lead, and deal with Kessligh.”

“We are much better at his style of warfare,” Koenyg agreed. “In that sense, Lenayin has taught Kessligh some things as well.”

“They seek to bleed us,” Damon countered. “Like they let us bleed in the diversion against the Enorans.”

“Everyone bled, brother.”

“It is garbage work. Every time they have a nasty job for someone to do, they hand it to us. They save the battles that promise great glory for themselves.”

“Then we must make our own glory,” said Koenyg, with a hard stare. He put heels to his horse and galloped back the way they'd come, his siblings and the Royal Guards at his tail.

Andreyis accompanied two of the Steel soldiers back to the stable to gather horses for wagons. Each took two animals, Andreyis taking the mare he'd fed the apple. If they were going to send the High Temple up in flames, he wanted her somewhere other than locked in the stable next door.