Joel Shepherd - Sasha

"Absolutely not!" Captain Akryd exclaimed. "There can be no question. The men shall not accept."

"The lords call for your head," Torvaal said, looking only at Sasha. "By the king's law, I can pardon the soldiers of a rebellion. But the law demands death for its leader. I offer you mercy."

"No deal!" said Akryd, angrily. "You assume too much, Your Highness! We are the victors in this fight, not you!"

"For how long?" Koenyg retorted, standing grim-faced near his father's side, thick arms folded across his mailed chest. "Every Lenay region or province to rise up against the Cherrovan always won its initial encounters. But once the Cherrovan brought their full weight of force to bear, the uprising was crushed. The throne has not even begun to bring its full weight of force to bear. We had hoped such drastic measures would not prove necessary."

"Oh aye, your mercy and forbearance are well known throughout Lenayin, Prince Koenyg!" Akryd retorted sarcastically. Sasha held up her hand to silence him.

"It's all right, Akryd," she said quietly. "I knew that this would happen. My father has no choice. Maintaining a balance of power in Lenayin is difficult at the best of times. My presence here, having led this rebellion, now threatens that balance."

"That's the point!" Akryd exclaimed, striding to the side of the table so he could look down on her. "M'Lady, you rode for the Goeren-yai!"

"I rode for Lenayin," Sasha corrected solemnly, looking up at him.

The long-haired, plain-faced Taneryn man shook his head in frustration. "What's the difference? We had to choose a leader, and it was between you and Krayliss! We chose you and now you would abandon us?"

Sasha sighed, tiredly. "Please, Akryd, just… just think. This isn't about us and them. It's about Lenayin. Far more than I stand for the Goeren-yai, I stand for Lenayin. The nobles view a united Goeren-yai as a threat to everything they've worked for. They will attack us. They will attack me, more precisely. I will need protection. All the Goeren-yai flock to my defence, and the next thing you know, that's a civil war. The king has no power without the support of the lords. He must support them, or there is no king in Lenayin. No king in Lenayin, and we're back to where we were beneath the Cherrovan heel, a bloody rabble, and a united kingdom no longer."

"You're… you're saying a united Goeren-yai would be bad for Lenayin?" Akryd looked disbelieving. "What were we riding for, if not for that?"

"The Goeren-yai are not united," Sasha said firmly. "Lord Faras is right in that. The west and the south are mostly not with us. They are strangers to us. It's not the right time, Akryd. Now is not the moment to make such a stand."

"When then?" Akryd showed no sign of retreat. His eyes were angry, and he showed no qualm in displaying such disunity before the watching eyes of the Verenthane lords. One of Lord Krayliss's men, Sasha reminded herself. A passionate man, willing to fight, whatever the cost. Reckon that into any future Lenayin, should he or a man like him become the new Great Lord of Taneryn. "When would be the right time, if not now?"

Sasha returned her gaze to her father. "Lenayin marches to war," she said. "War in a foreign land, far from home. Our leaders feel we have allies there. They feel we shall be amongst friends, fighting for the Larosa, and the other, Verenthane Bacosh. I feel otherwise. I believe that our leaders are fools to believe appeals to Verenthane brotherhood, as if a common faith can patch over the profound differences that exist between peoples from far away lands. I believe our Bacosh friends will stab Lenayin in the back at the first opportunity, and leave us to bleed and die. Kingdoms are built in such ventures. Men from all over Lenayin will march and serve side-by-side, as they have never done before in all their long history. I wonder if the leaders of Lenayin shall emerge from such a campaign with the same sense of where Lenayin's future lies as they hold today. Many things can change on the road to war."

The many faces opposing her were wary. Even Koenyg's gaze showed a new, dawning respect, to accompany the anger. She'd been thinking on it, on and off, all the ride north. They could send her away from Lenayin. But they could not stop what she had started.

"I'll not fight our serrin friends in any lowlands war!" Akryd declared. "Should the call come, I'll refuse!"

"No you won't," Sasha said firmly. "You won't because I tell you you won't. Lenayin must stand together, Akryd. Goeren-yai and Verenthane, and all the provinces as one. You will march with the rest, when the call comes. Someone has to keep an eye on our brave and wise leaders. Someone has to make certain they don't sell Lenayin down the river for a handful of coppers and a holy blessing. That someone shall be you."

Understanding dawned on Akryd's face. He stared at her. Then gazed at the lords. And drew himself up, slowly, with a disdainful stare. "Aye, M'Lady," he said coldly. "I understand. We'll watch them. Perhaps it's time, after all, for the Goeren-yai of the south, east and west to all get to know each other better. Perhaps we can come to an understanding."

"You mangy bitch," Koenyg fumed beneath his breath.

Sasha gave him a slow smile. "You worry about your own hide, brother. You can throw me out of Lenayin, but I was heading that way anyhow. In fact, I think we all are."

Fires burned before the Udalyn wall and the sweet night air mingled with woodsmoke and the smell of cooking, laughter, ale and song. Sasha sat beside one particular campfire, a cup of wine in her hand, and watched the celebrations. The Hadryn had left-taking artillery, tents and every last sign of habitation with them. Now, men of the column rejoiced at that, and the news that they would be pardoned their disobedience to the king by the king himself, and that their families would suffer no hardship by their actions.

The Udalyn had emerged from behind their wall for the first time in numbers, amid scenes of wild celebration. Goeren-yai had embraced and, Sasha was pleased to see, her column's Verenthane warriors were also greeted with enthusiasm. Many of the Udalyn seemed astonished, in fact, to see so many Verenthanes in the column's ranks. The Udalyn's Chief Askar was thrilled and humbled to find that so many Lenay Verenthanes would shed their blood for the Udalyn. He did not hate Verenthanes, he said. Only Hadryn.

Sasha watched now as men about neighbouring campfires ate, sang, danced, or attempted broken conversation with Udalyn men, often through a chain of interpreters who made increasingly less sense the more ales they downed. There was much fascination that the Udalyn did not look particularly different from other Goeren-yai. More beads and patterned clothes, per haps, but otherwise they might have been Tyree or Valhanan Goeren-yai to look at. There was more blond hair and red hair, however, and more blue eyes. Goeren-yai they were, but the Udalyn were northerners too.

Somewhere amidst the crowd, Daryd and Rysha sat by a separate fire, surrounded by parents, siblings and extended family, who pressed them for telling after telling of the things they'd seen-Baen-Tar, the Saint Ambellion Temple, Tyree and Valhanan, King Torvaal and the battles of Ymoth and Yumynis Plain. Sasha had received the impression that were it not for her own presence, the Yuvenar Family might not have believed the tale. She'd been pulled to that fireside by Aisha, who'd thought it something she should see-the Udalyn children back with their family, all of whom seemed to be accounted for. Rysha had sat curled in her mother's lap, and Daryd upon a stone by the fireside. Sasha had seen immediately that their mother would as gladly have clutched Daryd close for the entire night as she did to Rysha, but there was something in Daryd's manner now that forbade it. The men, too, watched and listened to the boy with a quiet, thoughtful respect.