Sovereign

Having been given a clear order, much of the riders' nervousness disappeared. Rosof got them started on the barricade, then chose twenty of the most fleet-footed of the troop and entered the forest. As the trees closed about them, Rosof did not feel any of the tension he had felt two days ago, the first time the Red Hands had tried to enter. He did not have time to wonder about it. He started a long, loping jog he hoped would get them to the source of the fire by the end of the day, and twenty warriors fell in behind him.

As they got deeper into the forest the air became closer, harder to breathe, and they had to stop frequently for short rests. The forest felt like a great prison, and they found it hard not to be able to see the horizon or feel the wind on their faces. The only way to stop thinking about it was to run, to concentrate on every stride, every foot fall.

Then, about midmorning, they found Lynan.

The meeting was eerily flat. For a long moment, surprised, Rosof could only stare at the prince, and in return Lynan seemed almost disinterested.

'We have come for you,' Rosof said nervously. 'We have a troop waiting at the edge of the forest.'

'A whole troop?'

'Back there,' Rosof said, pointing behind him. 'Except for Sunatay, who went on ahead of us, and the Truespeaker, and two others.'

'Sunatay is dead,' Lynan said flatly. 'So are her two companions.'

'Dead?'

'As is the Truespeaker.'

The Red Hands gasped in surprise. What could slay someone so powerful as Jenrosa Alucar? She was a companion to the White Wolf, and the first Truespeaker in a generation.

'Silona,' Lynan said, as if reading their minds. 'She killed them all.'

The Red Hands looked around them anxiously.

'No need to fear,' Lynan told them. 'She is dead too. Our friends died, but not in vain.'

Rosof swallowed, not sure what to say, then remembered the threat still to come. 'Your Majesty, we must hurry to rejoin the others. An enemy scout found our location. We cannot have much time before—'

'Yes, of course,' Lynan interrupted. 'Quickly then, lead the way.'

'Where are they?' Galen demanded, standing in his saddle and desperately searching the landscape for any sign of the enemy. 'Have we missed them?'

Charion, checking her map, shook her head. 'I don't see how. Either they moved further west, which lengthens their journey home and still gives us a chance to intercept them, or they are still where the outrider first came across them.'

Galen scratched his head. 'But once discovered, what would be the point of staying? They must know we would respond.'

'Or they rode east,' Charion suggested slowly, speaking as the thought coalesced in her brain. 'That way they are behind us, waiting for us to move out of the way before going for the border.'

'Our force isn't large enough to cover all three options,' he said with some exasperation.

Charion said nothing. This was Galen's column. She was an honorary member of the knights for the moment, but she was not commanding.

'We head south,' he said finally. 'If they have not moved we will surprise them by coming from the north. If they rode east, then we will come across their trail and may still have a chance of catching them. That's two out of three possibilities covered.'

Their horses had already been going for three straight hours. It was decided to rest them an hour before resuming. Galen ordered some of his riders to scout south and east, however, to try and locate the enemy early.

Although the horses could rest, their riders found it impossible. They strode up and down, they fidgeted with swords and gear, they checked and rechecked harness and saddle and reins and buckles and straps. It was frustrating for them, and their tension increased by the minute. When it was time to ride again, Galen made sure they still took it slowly, keeping the pace to an easy trot. Within an hour the first outriders were back from the south with the news that the enemy was still in place and had prepared barricades.

Galen, relieved the enemy had not escaped him, was still perplexed. 'What could they be doing?' he asked Charion.

'I have no idea, but if they're putting up barricades we're not going to be able to attack them by ourselves—at least not mounted—and I don't fancy going on foot up against Chett archers.'

'We'll worry about that when we get there,' Galen said. 'If the position is too strong we can send a message to Tomar to send some archers.'

Galen slowed down the pace. It was midafternoon before they met more of their scouts, one with a superficial arrow wound to the thigh.

'How far from their lines were you?' Galen asked him.

'About a hundred paces,' the scout said.

'They'd be effective at a hundred and fifty if the target was big enough, like a charging group of knights,' Charion said. 'God, I'd love to have a company of my archers with me just now.'

'I'd risk a charge if we still had our armour,' Galen confessed.

'Well, we don't, so you won't,' Charion said. 'We need reinforcements.'

'My lord!' cried one of the knights, pointing towards the forest itself.

'More Chetts!' Galen said. 'How many of them are here?'

'Twenty,' Charion said. 'If that's all of them, it makes it a troop in total. And look! Their leader! It can't be!'

Galen squinted to see as far as Charion, but there was no mistaking that white face. 'I don't believe it.' He glanced at Charion to make sure he was seeing what she was seeing. She nodded at him. 'I don't believe it,' he repeated numbly.

'We've got him!' she cried and kicked her horse's flanks. Galen lurched forward and grabbed her reins from her hands. 'What are you doing?' she demanded.

'Chett archers, remember!' he shouted at her. 'What did you think you were going to do? Play pin cushion for the enemy?'

Charion flushed with anger. 'How dare you—!' she started.

'I'm commander here, your Majesty,' he reminded her, his voice suddenly cold. 'And you are with us under my sufferance.'

For a moment it looked as if Charion would explode. The other knights carefully edged away from the pair. Safer to be shot at by Chetts than cursed at by Charion or Galen.

'Bugger!' she screamed in frustration.

Galen's eyes widened with surprise. He had heard her lose her temper plenty of times, but never control of her tongue.

'Steady on,' he said levelly.

She snorted through her nose like an angry bull, 'Sorry,' she said tightly. 'But it's him, for God's sake! Lynan Rosetheme! We can end it now, Galen, we can end the whole bloody war here and now!'

'Not by ourselves,' he said calmly. 'They're not going anywhere. If they try to escape, we'll slaughter them. But we can't take them behind that barricade, not without armour. We'll send for reinforcements from Sparro.' He signalled to one of the knights and said to him: 'Take three horses. Ride them into the ground if you have to. Get to Sparro by tomorrow. Tell Tomar what's happened. Tell him we need archers and heavy infantry. Tell Tomar we have Lynan trapped.'

'No need,' another knight said.

Charion and Galen looked up together. Coming from the east was a new column of riders, at least five hundred strong, and flying above them the pennant of Chandra.

Lynan did not give much for their chances when he saw his Chetts were outnumbered by the enemy three to one. For the moment, behind their earth and log barricades, they could hold them off, but eventually the enemy would arrive with archers and heavy infantry, maybe even some heavy cavalry, and it would all be over. He thought of retreating into the forest, but the Chetts told him the horses would not enter it; he thought they might now that Silona was dead, but when he tried to lead one mare in under the canopy he almost got his head kicked in for his trouble. He guessed the evil Silona had wrought in that place would outlast her by some years. Certainly, the pain she had caused him would last the rest of his life.