"What do you think you lost?" Sasha asked grimly above the ongoing thunder of hooves. Over by the stakes on this flank, past the onrush of horses, she could see little groups of infantry surrendering. Northerners rarely surrendered, or so the stories had it. In truth, it had been a long time since a large enough battle had tested that theory. A battle against someone other than the Cherrovan, who rarely took prisoners, making the whole question irrelevant.
Akryd exhaled hard, his expression darkening immediately. "Oh… damn it, hundreds. There was a second line, they fell on us once the dussieh broke through, a lot of them fell…" Sasha's heart sank in dismay. So there had been a second line upon the southern flank, just not on the northern one-they'd had cavalry instead, as she'd suspected, waiting on the blindside of their approach. Those first brave dussieh-riders to penetrate the line must have been wiped out. "We got through eventually, but… at least three hundred, M'Lady. Spirits know how many smaller wounds."
Three hundred on one flank. At least that many on her own, either dead or unable to fight further. Many horses. Dear spirits, it was a lot. A wonderful victory, the analytical side of her mind knew. But
… it seemed like a lot. It seemed like far, far too many.
"M'Lady?" said Akryd. Possibly he was unsettled by the look on her face. She straightened herself with an effort, and tried to think rationally. "What do you instruct?"
"Get into the town. Absolutely no pillage, I forbid it."
"Aye, M'Lady, I doubt it'll be a problem, but I'll see to it."
"I want to know what's become of the inhabitants. I want senior officers rounded up alive. Then I want a complete reassembly as soon as possible, I want horses cared for as a matter of urgency, I know they're exhausted but we simply don't know when the next fight will come. We must be ready."
"Aye, M'Lady," Akryd agreed, finding no argument with that.
"And someone find Tyrun!" Sasha added as he made to move off. "I wish to speak with him at the earliest. I'll assess the casualties over here and see what can be done for the wounded."
"Aye, M'Lady." Akryd rode off without further comment, and Sasha pressed her heels to Peg's heaving sides once more, asking for no more than a walk. He gave her a trot regardless, and she patted his sweaty neck.
Banneryd prisoners were being marched from the trees down onto the fields, flanked by mounted warriors. Bodies lay strewn beneath the treesmainly Banneryd, but not entirely. A horse kicked feebly in a pool of blood… Sasha rode past, unable to persuade herself to do more, but Tassi dismounted briefly, drawing her sword. All the serrin rode silently, surveying the carnage with expressionless stares. This was foreign in Saalshen, this violence-at least since the invasion of King Leyvaan. Probably it was the first time any of them had seen its like, on this scale. Well… they weren't the only ones. She felt utterly numb now that the blood-pumping fury had left her. For the first time in her life, she was not entirely certain of her own emotional state. It scared her.
She rode Peg through a gap in the row of defensive stakes, the earth torn by the charge of hundreds of hooves. Here were more slain men and horses, mostly arrow-struck. Some horses still kicked and struggled, pitifully, but this time Tassi remained mounted. This, perhaps, was too much for even the most disciplined serrin warrior. Riderless horses wandered, while others were held in groups by soldiers. Quite a few soldiers were tending to the wounded and searching along the grassy hillside for those stilt living, checking each fallen body in turn. The reserve, Sasha realised, recognising several-they had followed behind and halted here where they were most needed.
She saw one man, a Verenthane, with short hair and an eight-pointed medallion upon his chest, kneeling by a fallen comrade. He was weeping. His comrade's long hair fell about the man's legs, the motionless head in his lap, sightless eyes gazing skyward from within a spirit mask of intricate dark curls.
Then Sasha saw a horse she recognised and rode across the slope toward where several soldiers had gathered three wounded so far, and were attempting to aid them. Others carried a fourth even now, an arrow in his stomach, and resisting strangled screams at the pain. Jaryd was assisting as best he could, one-armed. A slim girl in pants and a jacket knelt by another man who was struggling to breathe, a shaft in his chest. She clutched his hand tightly in her own, whilst trying to pour water from a skin into his mouth, waiting for those treating the next man in line to find time to move on.
Without a word, the serrin dismounted and began unstrapping saddlebags for their medicines. "Sofy?" Sasha said hoarsely, still in her saddle. From within the walls of Ymoth, there came now the sounds of battle, cries and clashing steel. The smell of blood was everywhere, and the sweat of horses. Sofy did not look up. "Sofy, I'd rather you weren't here. There could be a counterattack any moment, this is still hostile land and you're right on the field they'll come from."
Sofy looked up. Her face was pale, her brown hair windblown and tangled. Blood specked her cheek. Her eyes, strangled with emotion, also burned with something deeper, and far, far harder than Sasha had ever seen before. "Go and win the war, Sasha," the youngest princess of Lenayin said quietly. Her voice quavered, but only a little. "Go and give orders elsewhere. I'm busy."
Nineteen
"Rysha, you have to stay with Essey! It's dangerous!"
Daryd had left Esey in the grassy enclosure within the walls, now crowded with other horses. Everywhere there were foreign soldiers, shouting orders, mustering horses by the enclosure's stream for a drink, searching for feed. There were clusters of prisoners, stacks of weapons, and armour, and the occasional dead body- although mostly the fighting had not spread this deeply into town.
"I want to see Mama and Papa!" Rysha shouted at him, very upset.
"Rysha, no!" Daryd was so frustrated, and so scared. How could he explain to a little girl? How could he make her see without terrifying her? "Look, there's bad men all through the town, it's not safe for you! Stay here with Essey where there are good men to look after you
…"
"No, no, no!" Rysha yelled, her eyes tearing up. "I want to see Mama and Papa! I'll go without you, I will!"
Daryd knew it was no idle threat-cautious Rysha did not make threats unless she meant it. He gritted his teeth. "Okay… come on."
He took her hand and ducked through the timber fence. The town looked so achingly familiar… and yet so different. Timber houses, and some stone ones, to either side of narrow, paved streets. Many gardens were damaged, fences destroyed, fruit trees stripped of their bounty. Some houses were missing windows… and he saw with shock as they rounded a corner that where Yuan Wenys's house had stood, there now lay a crumbled, charred ruin.
Rysha gasped. "Yuan Wenys is going to be so angry!" Daryd pulled her aside as some soldiers came running up the path. Down some steps, Daryd saw a pair of boots sticking out from the bushes surrounding the house of Yuan Fershyn. He pulled Rysha on quickly, but Rysha spared the body barely a glance. "Daryd, where is Yuan Wenys?"
"I don't know, Rysha." Daryd tried to keep the fear from his voice. "I think he'll be in the valley, Mama and Papa too."
"Why can't they be here?" Rysha protested, as if about to cry once more. "I want to see them now!"
Oh please, please, please don't let them be here, Daryd wished at the spirits, harder than he had ever wished anything before in his life. Please let them have escaped.