Joel Shepherd - Sasha

Spirits help her, she thought later as she lay snuggled in her own bedroll, she was almost tempted. Unlike Verenthane ladies, Goeren-yai had little worry about using the serrin's white powder, so pregnancy was no issue. She always carried a little on such rides, not in the expectation of an amorous encounter, but as a final guard against the unpleasant prospect of being taken prisoner. She had no illusions about the superior morality or sexual virtue of women-Verenthanes might believe that, and Goeren-yai to a lesser extent, but the serrin placed the concept somewhere between amusing and ridiculous, and in this, Sasha took her teachings firmly from the Nasi-Keth.

But it was a pricklish thing, for her. Serrin might leap from bed to bed with carefree abandon, but she could not. She was human, after all, and lust alone (for her at least) was not quite enough. Besides which, there were enough unpleasant rumours about her dubious morality already in circulation throughout Lenayin-she had no wish to add to the lies with facts. If she was going to risk such a thing, then the man would have to be damned impressive to make it worth her while. Jaryd might well be a decent man, and was certainly a handsome one, but that was still somewhere short of her requirements.

The following morning, the farmhouses upon the trail were all deserted, livestock let out to graze on the thickest pasture in the hopes that the troubles would pass them over. The trail descended along a broken, jagged cleft in the hills, toward a lake below. It shone vast and silver beneath the overcast sky, like flashes of precious metal through the pines. Beyond the far, northern shore rose genuine mountains, whose highest peaks bore white caps of snow.

Part way down the slope toward the lake, the column encountered the senior scout Jurellyn, scanning the clear view of the lakeside below.

"Vassyl," he said as Sasha, Kessligh, Damon, Captain Tyrun and Jaryd gathered about. Jurellyn's finger indicated the near side of the lake, mostly obscured by trees. "They're under attack, almost certainly. One of my lads is down closer, he heard trumpets and massed horse. The town's not afire though, so the defenders may yet hold the day."

"This trail is guarded?" Damon asked, frowning as he considered the scene. Sasha doubted he was admiring the beauty of the alpine lake, nor the majesty of the mountains beyond.

"Aye," said Jurellyn. He was chewing on a grass stem, Sasha saw. His manner, as roughened and weathered as his face and hair, was as informal as she'd ever seen a common man dare with royalty. Lenayin was full of such men-foresters, hunters, wild men, as they were commonly known. Some were recruited to arms, as scouts. The basic notions of civilisation, like manners, were often strange to them. Wise commanders tolerated the indifference, and reaped the benefits. "No knowing by who. I'd guess perhaps the locals, knowing this terrain better." He removed the grass stem, and spat. "I'll tell you this-there's not much room for massed cavalry down there on the lakeside. It's not a walled town, but they've got archers. It might not matter."

Kessligh pursed his lips as he considered. "You're right, old friend," he said. "That's a narrow lakeside bank, just a few fields and farm walls. Vassyl blocks the way around the lake entirely for cavalry. Attacking Hadryn might try to sneak some infantry around along the high slope, but that'll leave them isolated against Taneryn cavalry between Vassyl and the pass yonder."

His finger drew across to the right, where Sasha's eyes followed the lake's distant shore beneath the mountains. There was the back-route to Halleryn. It ended beneath the tallest peak opposite-Mount Halleryn. Directly below, she could clearly make out the dark cluster that was Halleryn town. And if she was not imagining things, she thought she could make out a dark smudge within that open, green valley. Those would be soldiers. An army, encamped before Halleryn's walls.

"The Hadryn have no business even being in Taneryn," Sasha muttered. "It's an invasion."

"Usyn Telgar may claim good cause," said Damon. Sasha stared at him. "His father was murdered. He may claim justice."

"This," Sasha retorted, "is not justice."

"We don't know what this is, just yet," Damon replied, his expression dark. There was greater force and certainty in his manner than Sasha had expected. "We shall go down and find out. We shall enforce a truce and interrogate the commanders."

"We are but eighty men, Highness," Captain Tyrun reminded him.

"Not once the other companies arrive."

"They may be days." Tyrun's manner was calm, merely reminding his prince of the facts, not advocating or arguing.

"Then we shan't tell them that," Damon said simply. "Shall we?"

He looked around, seeking disagreement, and appeared mildly surprised when he did not find any.

The descent through the forested lower slopes was guarded, for the column heard many strange calls echoing off the hills as they descended. But with the banners prominently displayed, there came no attack. Finally the trail emerged from the thick trees above the town of Vassyl. The surrounding grassy fields were thick with the last of the summer flowers and the town's shingled roofs and decorative trimmings looked pretty indeed before the vast, flat span of the lake.

Spoiling the tranquil scene were the dark, motionless forms lying on the fields closer to the town. Here at the treeline, Sasha knew, they were already within range of high if inaccurate longbow fire.

Guardsmen were pointing westward along the lakeshore, just beyond arrowshot from the town. A cluster of soldiers and horses was visible there, encamped within the narrow space of open land between the lake and the steep rise of the forested slope. One rider was now galloping forth, bearing a banner on which there flapped a white flag.

"I advise we come closer before he arrives, my Prince," Kessligh called to Damon. "I should like a look at the town."

Damon nodded and they continued forward, the rear sections of the column galloping to draw up the flanks as they cleared the treeline. Sasha saw an arrow protruding from the ground nearby, half-buried at a steep angle. Then, from the town, there came a second rider, also bearing a pole with a white flag. He jumped the low surrounding wall and spurred toward them.

Sasha could see now that the tight cluster of buildings was no accident of planning-the narrow streets would weave between such buildings, providing no easy avenues for galloping horsemen and plenty of cover for defending archers. There were men standing on some of the roofs, leaning on railings that seemed designed for the purpose, while others stood along the low stone wall that ringed the town. Lenay soldiers did not typically favour archery, but for the defence of Vassyl, it seemed the logical methodnorthern cavalry armour was rarely more than leather-on-chain, which would blunt longbow fire, but not stop it. And horses, of course, were not armoured at all. And now, as the column drew closer, they passed the first fallen bodya horse, sprawled upon its side, an arrow shaft through its neck. Sasha noted its side continued to rise and fall.

"Damn," she muttered and swung in her saddle to call to the nearest man behind… but he had already spotted the animal's plight, and swung off from the column whilst drawing his sword. Sasha averted her eyes from what followed-she'd seen enough killing of late. Besides, there were dead men lying up ahead, and more fallen horses. These men did not wear the dark grey of the Hadryn militia at Perys, but rather the black and silver of Hadryn line troops.

"The Hadryn Shields," Kessligh noted as they passed one man, sightless eyes gazing at the sky, a shaft effortlessly puncturing his mailed chest. His surcoat bore the emblem of a silver shield upon black. "Excellent soldiers. Some of Lenayin's best, not like those idiot militia. Their commanders can sometimes let them down, however."