Quite unexpectedly, a line from an old serrin verse came to mind. "That was the river. This is the sea." She'd never seen the sea. The many rivers of Lenayin flowed into it, eventually, on their long, winding journey into the lowlands. A body of water so vast was unimaginable to her. And yet it existed, irrespective of her ignorance. Somewhere out there-vast, deep and blue.
Suddenly, she felt calmer. The destination was out there, whether she knew its nature or not. Surely it existed, just like the sea. It was only she who was uncertain. The destination would take care of itself.
She touched her heels to Peg's sides, urging him to a walk. He broke into a canter instead and she pulled on the reins, slowing her reluctant, impatient friend to a sideways, head-tossing prance. The men's shouts died away, eyes settling upon her, many with frowning curiosity, seeing her for the first time. Spirits knew what they'd expected from the tales spun about her. She pushed the hood from her head to at least offer that much proof. From behind, there came the thunder of yet more horses approaching, swelling their ranks further. Perhaps she should wait for them all to arrive… but then, she might never start.
"Men of Lenayin!" she called. Her voice did not sound right, and she wondered if it carried across all those gathered. And the words themselves were a stale, dull form of address, surely? Although it was certainly better than "fellow Goeren-yai"… and suddenly, new words formed in her head. "Some will say this is a rebellion!" she plowed on, before the inspiration could desert her. "Some will say that we ride against the king! They will say that we seek to set Lenayin at war with itself, and set Verenthane and Goerenyai at each other's throats! But they will be wrong!
"We ride to save Lenayin from ruin! Lenayin must be saved from the hatred and bigotry of the north, or wherever it should arise! Lord Krayliss offered you a vision of a kingdom of the Goeren-yai, free from Verenthanes, serrin and lowlanders. I offer you no such vision! The Lenayin I offer you is a Lenayin of peace, not of hatred! Even now, there are Verenthane brothers among us who ride not for division, nor for hatred, but for all Lenayin, united together in friendship!
"I welcome my Verenthane brothers! I remind all who ride here that wherever my heart may lie, my blood is Verenthane and I love my family yet! Should any man who ride here tonight do so for hatred, or should he consider all Verenthanes to be the enemy, then I would tell that man that he is not welcome in this party! If he wishes to ride tonight for love-for love of the Udalyn, for love of tolerance and friendship between all Lenays, and for the love of a united Lenayin beneath a single king, then I say come with me, and none of us shall suffer in silence any more! What do you say?"
The answering roar astonished her in its power. Men clenched their fists in the air, or thrust their swords skyward, shouting with visceral passion. Sasha felt a flush of power through her body, chills tingling both hot and cold, her heart pounding in her ears. As if suddenly, in that moment, she could have taken on the combined Hadryn armies single-handedly and won. She fought the urge to grin like an idiot. A girl could get used to this.
"Form up!" she heard a yell as the cheering died… and looked to find Captain Tyrun of the Falcon Guard coming across the line at a canter, raised in his stirrups. "Form up, share the torches. We've distance to cover before the sun rises!"
Sasha set off after him, heading downhill as mounted soldiers wheeled and yelled, finding comrades and superiors in the darkness. She, Tyrun, Andreyis and Teriyan positioned themselves at the fore, watching the confusion and hoping there were not too many injuries before they even began to move.
"Where's Jaryd?" she thought to ask Tyrun.
"I put a few good men with him," Tyrun replied, surveying the scene with unreadable eyes. "To make sure he stays in the saddle, and to show the rest of the guardsmen that he's here. How do you judge his condition?"
"His body's a mess," Sasha said shortly. "But that's not the worst of it."
Tyrun nodded shortly. "He's a strong young man, his body will heal. About the other wounds, time will tell."
Sasha stared at the torch-lit, surging mass of horses and did some fast sums in her head. Eleven provinces at Rathynal. Roughly five hundred people per contingent. Half of those were nobles, including ladies and children. The other half soldiers-about two hundred and fifty per contingent. Maybe half of those, from every province but the three northern ones, were Goeren-yai. Which made… maybe nine hundred men? It certainly looked close to a thousand, but it was dark and there was no way to tell for sure. Had every Goeren-yai soldier come? And what of the Baen-Tar garrison companies?
"All the Falcon Guard have come?" she asked Captain Tyrun.
"Aye," said Tyrun. Verenthanes too, that meant. Tyrun was here himself, after all. That was another five hundred.
"And the Black Hammers, do you know?" she pressed.
"Uncertain. Captain Akyrman will not come, but many of his Goerenyai will. Some of those said their Verenthane friends may follow later, once they realise what's happened."
"We'll have a straggling tail on this army no matter what we do," Sasha observed glumly.
"Aye," Tyrun agreed. "No helping it. Best hope they ride fast."
"Royal Guard?"
"A few. Perhaps two hundred. Leaving Baen-Tar undefended is a big thing, even lots of Goeren-yai won't do it."
Sasha nodded, biting her lip. Say two hundred… and two fifty from the Black Hammers, and five hundred Falcon Guard… She blinked in astonishment. "We're nearly two thousand strong?"
"Aye," said Tyrun. "Looks like." From back toward the tent city, there was more shouting and a chaos of galloping horses, milling men and bewildered officers. A pair of men on horses came across in front, close enough for Sasha to overhear their cries to the column.
"Where the bloody hell are you lot off to?"
"Udalyn Valley! Want to come?"
"To fight for the Udalyn? But I'm Verenthane!"
"So's he!" Some laughter above the thunder of hooves and jangling harnesses.
"Yeah, I'm Verenthane!"
"So why're you going?"
"My friends are going! What unit you from?"
"Fyden Wildcats! You?"
"Yethulyn Bears! You like the Hadryn?"
"Hells no!"
"Well, come and have a bloody fight then!"
The cheers and cajoling continued, the two Verenthanes paralleling the column downhill into the dark.
Sasha shook her head in disbelief. "Damn it," she muttered to Tyrun. "I've absolutely no idea what I'm doing."
"I'm used to that," said Tyrun, with the faintest smile beneath his bushy moustache.
They galloped to the lead of the column, then turned downhill toward the nearest open gate out of a paddock and onto the road. The column fol lowed, a great, creaking, thudding mass of horse and armour, the light of many torches casting crazy shadows across the hillside.
Before long, several Royal Guardsmen, led by Lieutenant Alyn, cantered past to take the vanguard… one, Sasha saw, flying the royal purple and green. The banners of the Falcon Guard and the Black Hammers were also flying. The dark treeline approached and then enfolded them in the flickering, dancing shadow of firelight on trunks and leaves. From somewhere behind came a haunting blast of trumpet, once, and then again.
"Ranash," said Tyrun, his moustache twisting as he considered its import. There followed an answering call with different notes. "And that one is Banneryd. They are forming."
"How many do you think?" Sasha asked.
"The Ranash took a few losses against the Taneryn, but not many. Before, they were two hundred strong. Banneryd are not so many-only a hundred twenty.