Sharon Shinn - Reader And Raelynx

As if she was lifting a long, unwieldy boulder, Senneth slowly raised her arms, palms upward, fingers splayed. The flames whipped higher and began to travel, racing back along both sides of the massed men, following that endless line of oncoming soldiers. More shrieks, more sounds of struggling horses. It was impossible to see through the coruscating flame, but she could hear the clang of swords and shields. Blades drawn, no enemy to fight but fire.

A line of blue-clad soldiers galloped through the orange wall, weapons raised, bodies unharmed. Emboldened, a few Gillengaria men attempted to follow. Senneth heard their shouts of pain, the wild stomping of their horses’ hooves. Three of them burst through the fire, their uniforms alight, their horses wild with terror. They each used one hand to beat out the flames, one hand to grasp their swords.

The defenders flowed downhill from their hiding place. Every enemy who broke through the wall was met head-on by a Rider or a royal soldier.

The conflicts were quick and decisive, always favoring the defenders, for, while combatants trickled through, royal soldiers had the numerical advantage. Senneth could hear Halchon shouting again, hear Rayson’s furious questions. “What’s happening? Who’s fighting? Call them back!” But still more Arberharst soldiers worked their way past the fire. About fifteen cantered up from the rear ranks of the army, ready to engage. A few more Gillengaria soldiers staggered through, scorched but determined.

All of them were cut down.

Finally, after a bloody hour of combat, no more soldiers attempted to breach the wall. The Riders and the royal soldiers still sprawled across the road, waiting for another assault, but for the moment, all was quiet.

Senneth cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “Marlord Halchon! I would have a conference with you!”

There was a moment of silence while she imagined Halchon first cursing her name, then wondering how he might turn this confrontation to his advantage. “Serra Senneth,” he shouted back. “I would be delighted to parley. I do not particularly wish to be incinerated in my attempts to communicate with you, however.”

“If you will agree to meet under a flag of truce, I will rescind my flame. There is a place two miles ahead of you on this road. Come alone to meet me there in one hour. Leave the rest of your army where it stands.”

“I am not fool enough to come by myself.”

Tayse had practically scripted this for her. “How many men will make you feel safe?”

“How many are in your army?”

“Bring no more than twenty,” she said. “Otherwise, we have no deal.”

“I will agree to that. When do you put out the fire? Our horses are ready to bolt.”

“I will douse the flames when we have withdrawn to our position.”

“I will see you in one hour, then,” he said.

This first part had been tricky; the next part would be trickier still. Coeval led most of their troops toward an agreed-upon rendezvous some distance past Ghosenhall. Tayse, Justin, Senneth, Ellynor, and about twenty men moved up the road to the second spot they had chosen. Again, they had commandeered the high ground, arranging themselves on a hillock that brushed against the road. Still on horseback, Senneth took a position close enough to the road to allow her to speak more or less comfortably to any traveler passing by. Justin, Tayse, and the other soldiers deployed behind her, weapons out. Ellynor cloaked herself in darkness and pulled her mount so close that Senneth could feel the animal’s body heat-though she couldn’t see the Lirren girl at all.

With a lot of effort and a bit of luck, Senneth could turn herself invisible, too-but she had the uneasy feeling Halchon would not be fooled by her spell. For this maneuver, she wanted to take no chances.

Halchon Gisseltess and a small escort arrived precisely at the appointed time.

“That’s near enough,” Senneth called when he was fifty feet away. He lifted a hand and his riders came to a tidy halt.

“Senneth,” he said, and his beautiful voice was warm with pleasure. “I am, as always, delighted at the chance to visit with you, though I must confess this venue is not entirely as civilized as I would like.”

“Uncivilized men must make do with the opportunities afforded to them,” she said.

He laughed softly. “Come, did you separate me from my army merely to insult me? Surely not. What offer do you have to make? Or what appeal?”

“The king is dead, you know,” she said baldly. “But Amalie still lives. What bargain would you strike to end this here, now, before another death is recorded?”

“You know my terms,” he said. “I want to be king. Amalie may abdicate in my favor.”

“You would make a very bad king,” Senneth said, shaking her head. “I fear you would destroy Gillengaria within a year of taking the throne. A man who uses violence to attain his ends will use violence to enforce his will.”

“Richly ironic, coming from a woman who herself married a soldier.”

“He fights to defend. You fight to acquire. Those are two very different things.”

“Spare me the philosophy, Senneth. I want to be king. Hand me the crown and I will dismantle the armies.”

“Surely there are other solutions,” she said. She felt like a traitor even as she said it, but the next option had to be presented. “There might be a man of Gisseltess whom you would be glad to support as a suitor to the princess. A marriage between Ghosenhall and Gissel Plain would afford you some of the power you crave.”

He appeared to reflect. “My oldest son is almost fourteen. Not a bad match for a nineteen-year-old girl, and a fine one in a few years’ time.”

She should have expected that, and she tried not to let her revulsion show. “I cannot broker a marriage on Amalie’s behalf but I can promise that she will consider him, and will meet him with an honest and true heart.”

Halchon’s smile turned into a leer. “But here’s a possibility that brings me even closer to the throne,” he said. “My own wife is missing. I’ll wed the princess and rule Gillengaria at her side.”

She couldn’t repress her gasp. “No! Amalie would rather die.”

He laughed at her. “Just because you would rather die than come to my bed doesn’t mean every woman feels the same way.”

“Then I would rather see her dead or dispossessed than have to endure your touch for half an hour,” she retorted. “There might be a chance you could put your son forward and have him considered as a candidate. But if you are the only suitor from Gisseltess, I can promise you no marriage will occur.”

He was still intensely amused. “But I need a wife, Senneth, now that the bitch who bore my sons has run off-finding shelter with your brothers, if the gossip I hear is true. You owe me for that, I believe, for I know you were instrumental in her escape. I have made you this offer before. Become my wife. My son will marry Amalie. Together we will offer the young king and queen our seasoned counsel and our loving example. That would satisfy me, I think. That would cause me to lay down my arms.”

Tayse hadn’t said a word, and she doubted if his stony face had showed any change of expression, but she could feel the fury radiating from his coiled body. Forcing herself to speak calmly, she said, “I have a husband. And am not inclined to shed him for convenience’s sake.”

“But, Senneth,” Halchon purred, “he could so easily be dead.”

Behind the Riders, someone shouted. Suddenly there was the pound of hooves, the scrape of swords. “Behind us!” one of the royal soldiers cried out, and then there was a furious clash of weapons. Halchon raised his arm and drove his fist through the air, and the men with him charged toward the hill.