"Well, possibly because you decided to take a Walk to Ohrid before anyone got the chance." Elica's tone made it quite clear what she thought of that particular choice.
"You're the one who told me pregnancy wasn't a disease."
"I'm also the one who told you there'd have to be some changes in your lifestyle."
"There were. Rescuing beautiful, arrogant men from execution and then waddling across the country with them was not something I'd previously made a habit of."
Elica looked up and smiled. "If you still have enough energy to be witty, you're doing all right."
As compared to what? Annice thought as another contraction hit.
The half-dozen horsemen, lances fixed, galloped wildly at the barricade under a rain of arrows. A horse screamed and stumbled as a feathered mountain-shaft penetrated a boiled leather crupper but managed to keep its feet.
"Hold your fire!" Lady Jura bellowed.
Tadeus Sang the command over the pass.
Behind one of the arrow slits built into the barricade, Pjerin stood, string at ear, triangular arrowhead centered unwaveringly on an approaching breastplate. He'd killed Otik with no time to think, no time to consider what he was doing. He'd tried to save Lukas; perhaps not as hard as he might have, but he'd tried. This was different. This was cold-blooded killing. Not a stag, not a boar, not a bear. A person. With a name and a family.
Who would destroy his name and his family if they could.
He'd told Annice he was tired of death. And he was. And it didn't matter.
Just before they reached the planted spikes, when the Cemandian pulled his horse's head around to wheel back the way he'd come, Pjerin loosed the string. At such close range, the arrow easily pierced the breastplate, the force of the impact lifting the Cemandian out of the saddle.
The body hit the ground, rolled, and lay still.
"Center it! I said hold your fire!" Lady Jura bellowed again. The guard had obeyed, but the people of Ohrid, following the example of their due and less than willing to take orders from a Shkoder noble, continued to fill the pass with little effect.
The riderless horse wheeled and raced away with its companions. One of the remaining Cemandians swayed in the saddle and another carried a crossbow quarrel spiked through stirrup and leg.
One final flight struck sparks, metal against the stone, before the enemy was obviously out of range.
Glaring at the waste, Jura stomped to Theron's side. "Sing this," she snarled at Tadeus. "The next person who shoots after I've told them to stop is in more danger from me than from the Cemandians! And that," she added, twisting around to face Pjerin as Tadeus began to Sing, dropping her voice so as not to be overheard "includes you, Your Grace."
Pjerin stiffened. "Lady Jura, this is my land."
"And your liege has given me battle command."
Under the edge of her helm, her pale eyes glittered dangerously. "If there're Cemandians in that pass and I tell Your Grace to hold your fire, it would be in your best interest if you listened." As he ground his teeth together, she caught his gaze and held it. "We haven't time to turn your people and my people into one unit, but if we want to save your land and my land, we all have to be very clear on who's in charge."
"Your pardon." He inclined his head, the motion in no way a surrender, at best a grudging acknowledgment of the truth. "It won't happen again."
"Thank you, Your Grace." Point made, she nodded and looked away first, making it seem as though he had released her.
"What did Prince Rajmund hope to accomplish with that?" Theron asked, pleased with the way Jura had handled the due. They had too few people to worry about inherited rank over ability, but it was equally important that the leadership they had not be undermined. And she says she's no diplomat.
"He was testing us, Majesty," she snapped. "Drawing our fire to build an idea of our strength and we gave him exactly what he wanted."
"Testing us with the bodies of his own people?"
"Every army has a few hotheads who don't believe they can be killed."
"Well, now he has one less," Pjerin said quietly.
"Shallow breaths, Annice. You don't want to push yet."
"… why… not…"
"Because your body isn't ready."
"… tired…"
"I know."
"… hurts…"
Jazep shoved his way through the underbrush and out into the west end of the valley. The keep of Ohrid brooded in the distance.
By avoiding the kigh and tracking by more mundane methods, he'd managed to very nearly catch up with Annice and her companion. He only hoped he was in time. He hadn't been able to Sing up a kigh since just after dawn. It wasn't that they weren't listening. There weren't any around.
Breathing heavily, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of one grimy hand and let his pack slide to the ground. Then he blinked as a low wave ran the length of the distant fields; north to south and back again.
"This isn't good."
Dropping to one knee, he pressed both palms hard against the earth and Sang.
The wave paused, then slowly continued, the swell growing larger with each pass.
"What the…?"
Thanking all the gods in the Circle that the sun had shifted enough to stop blinding them, Jura peered up the pass. "It's called a tortoise. One of His Highness' commanders probably picked it up from the Empire."
Pjerin glared at the advancing square of overlapped shields and knew that the view from the battlements would be the same. "We can't get arrows through that!"
Jura snorted. "That's the idea, Your Grace."
At that moment, the front rank parted slightly in three places and a trio of naming arrows thudded into the barricade, splattering hot pitch against the wood.
Then three more.
Then three more.
"Leave them," Jura barked. "Show yourself to put them out and they'll put one in you. Tadeus, stones."
Tadeus Sang and up on the battlements, Stasya turned and waved her fist in the air. Grinning broadly, Vencel set his bow aside, balanced a head-sized rock on one hand, then heaved. It arced up and over and slammed down onto the top of the shields.
A dozen followed, some smaller, a couple larger.
For a greater part of the night, those not building the barricade had loaded the battlements.
Under the second onslaught, the shield wall broke.
Jura nodded. "Now, fire."
Four more bodies littered the pass.
Elica forced her concentration back to Annice. There was someone hurt, dying. She could feel it even through
Annice's labor. Feel the loss of a life she could have saved.
The rich topsoil of the fields began to heave.
Bagpipes in one hand, tambour in the other, Jazep ran toward the pass, head down, short legs churning. With all her abilities thrown to earth, Annice was stronger than he thought. He didn't know what was going to happen, but he was afraid he was going to be too late to stop it.
"Stasya says there's something going on. She can see a lot of activity all grouped in one place but can't make out what's happening."
"What about the kigh?" Theron asked.
Tadeus shook his head. "I can't make any sense out of what they're telling me. His Highness seems to be building something."
"Catapult?" the king wondered.
"Too complicated," Jura growled. "He doesn't care about the keep, he just wants us out of his way."
"Battering ram."
King and commander turned toward Pjerin. Jura nodded grimly. "Odds are good."
There was a rhythm to the pain and that was all that made it endurable. Her body Sang a scale, up and down then up again, never so high she couldn't hit that top note, but every time it trembled just at the edge of her range.