Richard Parker - Elsewhere

The day warmed nicely throughout the afternoon and despite the clouds building menacingly in the south, the afternoon remained quite pleasant. The Captain just hoped any bad weather would hold off at least until they made camp.

As he rode, Hothgaard noticed that a few leaves were beginning to change and wondered if this war would be over before the leaves finally dropped. He hoped so. Hothgaard glanced about the countryside, growing impatient. He spurred his mount into a trot suddenly very interested in seeing Manse for himself. His scouts informed him that the defenses were formidable. Hothgaard shrugged, once the Palmerrio crossed over the Scar Mountains and onto the Plateau, the Massi would either have to fight or be trapped within the folly of their own defenses.

After an hour they were within ten miles of the city, and the smell of rain hung in the air. It wasn’t long before the low gray clouds turned nearly black and the rains opened up, effectively blinding them for any distance.

Hothgaard frowned, drenched almost immediately. “Let’s tighten up,” he told his Sergeant. “If the Massi are indeed out and waiting, this would be the time.”

He was correct; at that very moment Captain Gaston waited with just over nineteen hundred horsemen in a shallow gully to the east of the advancing column of Knights. Gaston was nervous, but when the rains came he did not hesitate. He immediately sounded the order to attack and was the first to move up and out of the gully. He spurred his horse hard, charging toward the enemy, his blood already rushing through his veins faster than his horse could gallop.

The Massi charge crashed into the Knight’s line, cutting completely through the last quarter of the enemy and at nearly the same time another force of nearly five hundred horsemen attacked from the rear. The maneuver was masterful, designed to isolate and destroy a large section of an enemy force. With luck the strategy would confuse and scatter the remainder, but the Knights were not easily rattled and without even a word from Captain Hothgaard, the center of the formation rolled to the west away from the main attack and then circled about to reinforce the trailing sections. At the same time the lead column of the Knights galloped forward and then circled back to the east, intent on surrounding and crushing the foolish enemy force. It was a classic attack, counter attack scenario and within moments Gaston and the rest of the Massi cavalry went from aggressor to defenders.

“Hold fast!” Gaston yelled loudly, still moving fast. He lost control of his lance when it plunged through the back of a Knight who was engaged with another of his men. He glanced about in the rain, desperate to make out the position of the main section of the enemy. At first he could see nothing, and was distracted as another Knight charged his direction. He kicked his horse into motion in order to meet the threat with force. They passed one another with a clang of steel on steel, Gaston moving farther out into a nearby field. It was then that he spotted a force circling about from the north, pounding through the mud and rain in perfect formation. He watched, mesmerized for a moment until he recognized the column as another group of Temple Knights. His heart sank as he looked wildly about for more Massi horsemen. His search was short-lived as a spear point glanced off his left side, slicing into his rib cage. The force of the blow nearly threw him from the saddle, but somehow he managed to stay mounted. He righted himself, not even feeling the pain of his wound. He parried another attack from the Knight who seemed bent on killing him, but even as he fought Gaston continued to mark the progress of the company of Knights riding hard his way. He swiftly turned and with his left kali removed the head of the lance which aimed at his heart. The Knight engaging him yelled in frustration and drew his sword. He slammed his well-trained mount into Gaston’s horse pushing the animal back and the Massi Captain was forced to use all of his concentration on the fight at hand. As he fought Gaston’s strength and speed began to take their toll on the shocked Knight, keeping the man on the defensive. The Knight retreated from a flurry of hard well timed blows; finally after several long minutes of fighting, Gaston managed to relieve the Knight of his right hand and when he screamed the Captain sliced through the man’s neck. But even as the man fell to the ground, Gaston could sense the enemy approaching his rear and he knew that if the Knights were allowed to circle around his position, all would be lost.

ǂ

The night before they were to leave for the Aleria Pass to meet the Palmerrio was a late one, full of planning, full of contingencies, full of “what ifs.” But now the meetings were over and Lonogan sat on his bed alone in his room in the western bailey. As usual he’d left the planning to Gwaynn and the others. He knew his own strengths and weaknesses. He was a logistics general…good at his job because he knew how to get things done but planning and strategy would never be his strong point. So he let Gwaynn and Hahn provide the plan and he would see it carried out.

It was very late; he should sleep. Tomorrow would be a long hard day of riding across the open Plateau, but he was still too energized and despite the numerous threats closing in on them, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from returning to na Gall. Since their return from Cassinni, thoughts of the Traveler were consuming him. He tried various methods to banish her from his head, but his mind was being completely insubordinate. Images of Jess kept returning and playing themselves out in a seemingly endless loop of fantasy. Finally, now that he was completely alone, Lonogan surrendered his thoughts to her with relish. He wondered if she was having her fantasies about their kiss or if she was already soundly sleeping next door…no, not next door. He had to remind himself again and again that she was staying down below in Manse at Taylor’s brand new hotel. She was not close…not right across the hall as she’d been in Parma. It was a sad, sobering thought.

His mind relived their kisses once again and he sighed, shaking his head in disgust. A general should have more discipline over his body and his mind. He stood and went to the water basin and splashed a bit on his face. He should sleep. They would be preparing to ride in a little over six hours. Hell, they were going to war and he would need all his wits about him, but he didn’t return to his bed, instead he held his wet hands over the candle flame enjoying the warmth as the heat evaporated the water left behind. When his hands were dry he blew out the candle, determined to get some rest but as he turned he felt a small disturbance in the air and suddenly she was there before him, floating like an apparition in the darkness. His eyes were not yet fully adjusted to the dark and he could not see her well, but her wonderfully familiar scent filled the room.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said very softly and Lonogan’s heart soared. Taking a Traveler as a lover definitely had its advantages.

“Nor I,” Lonogan whispered back and quick as a flash she shrugged and let the cloak she was wearing fall from her shoulders. She was wearing nothing else. Lonogan breath caught in his throat and he stood completely still, enthralled, straining to see in the darkness.

She moved toward him. He wanted to see her and briefly considered turning back and to the candle, but then she was next to him and he could feel the warmth coming off of her skin in waves.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she whispered, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath as she spoke. “If something were to happen…”

Lonogan finally moved and reached out, touching her shoulders first. His hands moved down her arms and then found her waist. It was small, nearly small enough for his fingers to circle and touch at her back. And then her arms went around his neck and they embaced tightly and he was lost in the feel of her. She smelled amazing and her skin was so smooth and warm and oh so soft to the touch.