Absurdly, because he was with them, the Red Hands did not seem to be remotely worried. He was the White Wolf returned, he was the invincible king; it was the enemy that needed to be pitied.
'We have to break out,' he told Rosof. 'We have no choice. The enemy will bring fresh troops soon, and we will be trapped. Now is our only chance.'
Rosof nodded excitedly. 'Better to go on horseback than stuck behind some wall like this.'
'Order the troop to mount.'
Rosof relayed the command. There was a flurry of activity and in moments the whole troop was ready to ride out.
'We ride due north,' Lynan told them. 'If any of us are wounded, or our horses killed from under us, the others must go on. Some of us will get through.'
There was a spontaneous raggedy cheer from the Chetts, and Lynan felt his heart swell with pride that these rough riders from the Oceans of Grass would pin their future to his sorry ambitions.
'No,' he said. 'I was wrong. We leave no one behind. If anyone is wounded, the closest rider will take the reins. If anyone loses their horse, the next rider will take them up. We live or die together. I will not desert you again.'
This time the cheer was raucous. Lynan thought they must have heard it all the way back to Sparro.
'Your Majesty,' one of the Chetts said. 'More cavalry.'
The cheer died in all their throats. Lynan looked eastwards, saw the Chandra pennant and knew it meant the end for all of them.
'I am sorry,' he said, but so softly none of them would have heard him. There was no need for them to hear his despair. He looked down at his right hand. The broken wrist had healed completely. The burn from grasping the red hot hilt of his sword had not. It was a mess of blue-rimmed boils and bloody cuts. When Silona died, he had stopped healing like a vampire. He was again utterly, utterly human.
It could have happened at a more convenient time, he thought, but he could not help feeling relief he would die human and not something less, not something on its way to being like Silona.
All his Chetts were looking at him, expecting him to say something more. He could see in their eyes that it was not surrender they were expecting from him. 'Well, my brave Red Hands,' he called to them, 'today you will prove yourself the fiercest warriors on Theare. I promise you, your descendants will sing songs about today and your part in it.'
He turned back to the enemy. They could see what they were doing now and were manoeuvring to intercept them. 'I don't suppose anyone brought my banner?'
'Of course we bloody did,' Rosof said, and drew one from his saddlebag. As the troop's second-in-command, when Sunatay was still alive as commander, the pennant was his responsibility. He jumped off his horse, found a long, thin branch, and tied the pennant to it, then remounted and wedged the makeshift standard into his right boot.
'Well and good,' Lynan said, glancing over his shoulder to see the pennant catch the wind.
He raised his hand to give the signal to charge when something extraordinary happened. The fresh Chandra cavalry rode past the original unit, wheeled as if on parade to present their flanks to the Chetts, and continued on. One or two Chetts shot arrows, but for the most part they were too surprised to react. Finally the column stopped between the Chetts and the rest of the enemy, right wheeled and lowered their spears—against their compatriots.
Rosof cleared his throat. 'Your Majesty?'
To the unvoiced question, Lynan could only say: 'I have no idea what is going on.'
'What in the name of God are they doing?' Galen demanded as the Chandra column swept past them then changed course to place themselves in front of the enemy. When they dropped their spears—in his direction—Galen did not know what to say. The rest of the knights started speaking all at once in sheer amazement. Charion said nothing, but she bowed her head, not wanting to believe what was happening. Tomar tried to tell me, she thought. He tried to tell me.
One rider broke ranks from the Chandran cavalry and rode towards them. He carried no weapon except for a long sword strapped to his back.
'That's Barys Malayka,' Galen said.
Barys drew up in front of Galen and Charion. His expression was grim.
'What is the meaning of this, sir?' Galen demanded. 'We have the enemy cornered here, and it is led by the traitor prince himself. Why do you hinder us instead of help us?'
Barys scratched his nose. 'It isn't straightforward, I'm afraid, Galen Amptra. But the crux of the matter is that Tomar II, king of Chandra, has thrown his lot behind Prince Lynan.'
Galen's jaw dropped in surprise.
'Why, Barys?' Charion asked, her voice subdued.
'It was a question of loyalty, your Majesty,' Barys replied.
Galen guffawed. 'Loyalty? He swore an oath to Queen Areava to serve the crown of Grenda Lear—'
'He swore an oath to Queen Usharna,' Barys interrupted. 'And to serve the best interests of the Kingdom. He believes he is best fulfilling that oath by supporting Lynan in his struggle against his sister.'
Galen's mouth opened and shut like a fish gasping for air.
'What is to happen to us?' Charion asked.
'You are to head for Kendra immediately. You have safe passage for three days and three nights.'
'And what happens to Prince Lynan?'
'He is now under my master's protection,' Barys said.
'We could end it all now,' Charion said urgently, leaning forward over her saddle towards Barys. 'Kill Lynan and the war is over.'
Barys shook his head. 'Civil war is never resolved so simply.' He retrieved a sealed letter from inside his coat and handed it to Charion. 'For Areava, from Tomar, explaining his decision.'
'No amount of explanation will rid him of his guilt,' Galen said.
'King Tomar feels many things about his decision, but guilt is not one of them.'
'This is a tragedy, Barys,' Charion said. 'This is a bloody tragedy.'
'I won't disagree with her Majesty,' Barys replied, 'but the tragedy started in the royal palace in Kendra and with the Rosethemes, not in Sparro and not with Tomar.'
'But—!' Galen started, and again Barys spoke over him.
'You only have three days and three nights. I would make use of it, starting now.'
CHAPTER 29
It was as if a god had marked the division between desert and pasture, between the land of the Saranah and the province of Aman, it was so clear. To the west of Makon the ground was yellow with salt bush and sand, the blue sky as hard as diamond, while to the east the ground was plush with grass and the sky was cut by distant, snow-capped mountains. The Chett army moved quickly to the east, unburdened by loot or guilt, the ruin of a whole people behind them. Makon could not begin to calculate how many Saranah had been killed, but was sure it would be easier to count the survivors than the slain. The Saranah had paid for their attack on the Oceans of Grass with virtual extinction.
And now it was the turn of Aman.
Eynon reined up next to him. 'No word from our scouts?'
Makon shook his head. 'This border does not seem to be guarded.'
'Why should they guard against the Saranah?' Eynon sneered. 'You don't post spears against your pet.'
'I think the way is clear to the first town.'
'Cleybin, wasn't it?' He searched his memory for the information the Saranah merchant had revealed before he died.
'Market town for trade with the Saranah.'
'Well, Aman will no longer need it then.'
'And after Cleybin?'
Eynon pointed to the mountains. 'Straight to them. Pila is up there somewhere.'
'It will be winter soon.'
'Then we had better get a move on. Remember, Makon, mobility is the key. As long as we keep ahead of the news of our arrival, we will always have the advantage. Aman is not expecting an attack from the west, and many of their warriors will be in the east to fight Lynan. Once we take Pila we can set down for winter, if need be.' He nodded to the long and winding column passing them, Chetts from a dozen different clans now working together as a single force, proud of their achievements and determined to do more. Makon could see in every face the determination to see through to the end this expedition of revenge. 'They will have earned a rest by then.'