Water splashed around his war-horse’s bloody hooves.
He’d finally fought through to the shores of Lake Winoene, and all around him his knights were driving the Mhoriens back into the ruins. Here along the lakeshore, the smoke was thinner, and Tuorel raised his visor to gasp for breath while he watched the end of the fight. After a few minutes, a blocky form in red and black armor approached on foot, carrying a spiked mace.
“Lord Baehemon,” said Tuorel. “I see you’ve lost your horse.”
Baehemon lifted his own visor and bared his teeth in a savage snarl. “They know how to fight, all right. We must have lost half our force storming that dike.” He looked around at the corpse-strewn battlefield, and grunted in satisfaction.
“We’ve got the lakeshore. How long do you think old Ceried can keep his men going without water?”
“Three days,” Tuorel said. “We’ll have to reinforce this position.
He has no choice but to try and take it back.” He dismounted, his feet splashing in the cold, muddy water, and then reached down to wash the grime and mud from his face.
“What about the Diemans? They’ll be here by then.”
Tuorel smiled and looked at his general. “We’ll hold what we’ve got with the foot troops and pull off the cavalry and knights to meet the Dieman attack.” Catching his horse by the reins, the baron swung himself up into the saddle again, and walked his horse up on to the gravel shore. “Now, let’s see if we can find the fight again. I’m not done with these dogs yet.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Haelynite column set off for Lake Winoene later in the afternoon, marching out of the abbey’s courtyard in ordered ranks of cavalry and foot soldiers. Gaelin traveled with High Prefect Iviena and the leaders of her army, discussing strategy and preparing rudimentary plans. On Gaelin’s advice, the Haelynite army traveled with doubled scouts and prepared rudimentary defenses every night. He didn’t doubt Ghoeran marauders and spies were everywhere in the highlands – if he had been in Tuorel’s position, he would have placed ambushers along the route of the approaching army.
Balancing the need for caution against the difficulties of moving nearly one thousand men over eighty miles in only four days, the Haelynites were forced to begin their marches well before sunrise, after sleeping only five to six hours a night. At first Gaelin was concerned that the soldiers would be too exhausted to be good for anything at Caer Winoene, but he soon learned they were excellent, well-conditioned troops, and dozens of priests accompanied the march to urge the men forward with their prayers and hymns.
The weather was fair, with warm afternoons and light rainfall, but the journey passed slowly for Gaelin. He was anxious to get back to Caer Winoene and see how matters stood, and Erin continued to hold herself at a distance from him. At least he had the pleasure of watching Ilwyn recover from her ordeal – the princess flourished under the care of both Erin and Seriene, who went out of their way to keep her mind engaged on anything except the nightmare she had endured.
At the end of their second day of travel, they camped along the Northrun, just inside the long, low ridge of hills that marked the border of Dhalsiel and Marloer’s Gap. On the next morning’s march, they would have to leave the road and travel through a series of passes and valleys to reach Lake Winoene.
Tired but satisfied with their progress, Gaelin cantered up the grassy slope of a small rise to watch over the campbuilding and enjoy the sunset. He sat down with his back to a tree, and let Blackbrand graze nearby. The clouds overhead were painted brilliant hues of red, gray, and gold as the sun hovered in the narrow space between the dark horizon and the overcast sky.
“A fair evening, wouldn’t you say?”
Startled, Gaelin scrambled to his feet and reached for his sword, but he realized that it was only Seriene. The Dieman sorceress was watching him with a slight smile on her face.
With a mischievous look to her eye, she rounded the tree and took the spot he’d just occupied, demurely arranging her skirts before looking up at him and asking, “Why don’t you join me? I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He sat down beside her. They watched the sun disappearing behind a distant peak, as the sunset deepened into dusk.
Gaelin started to speak, but Seriene hushed him with a gesture and nodded at the marvelous sunset. With a shrug, Gaelin settled in to enjoy the sight. After another quarterhour, the last sliver of the sun vanished. Gaelin stretched and faced Seriene. “I know you didn’t come up here just for that,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Gaelin, you wound me. Don’t you think that I might have no other motive than just enjoying your company?”
He chose not to reply. With a sigh, Seriene continued. “Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll encounter my father’s army.”
Gaelin nodded. “I can feel them, nearby. They’re a few miles in that direction. My link to the land, I guess.”
“If you lift the siege at Caer Winoene, this war is won.
Have you thought about your alliance with Diemed?”
He glanced at her. Golden light gleamed on her face, and her dark eyes seemed to see right through him. “You mean to say, have I thought about marrying you?”
She leaned forward and brushed her warm, soft lips against his. “Is the prospect that unappealing?”
In truth, Gaelin had to admit that it was not unappealing at all. When Seriene touched him, it set him on fire. But even as she nestled closer in his arms, he found his thoughts turning to Erin and the way she felt next to him. With a deep breath, he managed to pull back. Standing quickly, he paced a step or two away, not looking at her. “I’m sorry. Maybe someday, Seriene, but it wouldn’t be honest or fair to you – or to Erin – for me to take you as my wife now. I can’t honestly say you’re the only woman in my heart.” He started to offer some kind of consolation but stopped before he made a fool of himself.
Seriene rose, avoiding his gaze. “This isn’t about politics and alliances, Gaelin. I truly care for you. I – ” She suddenly gathered her skirt and started to stand. “I won’t trouble you again.”
“Seriene, wait. Don’t leave like this,” Gaelin said. “I care for you, too. We’ve been through a lot together, and no matter what happens, I don’t want to have to avoid you.”
With a bitter smile, she turned back to him. “You couldn’t trust me.” The tears glimmering in her eyes scored Gaelin’s heart.
“Give me time,” he said quietly. “I might find my common sense again. Erin’s told me that she plans to leave.”
Seriene hesitated. “Erin is leaving?”
“I – that is, we – thought it wisest. I know I can’t marry her, Seriene.” He smiled sadly. “I think she’ll go back to the White Hall when the war’s over.”
Seriene looked up at him. “Gaelin, you would do that for me?”
“I couldn’t trust myself if she stayed, Seriene. It’s the best thing to do. Please… I’ll see things more clearly in a few weeks.”
The night was growing cooler as the light faded from the sky. Gaelin shivered lightly, watching Seriene, now a soft white shadow in the dusk. After a long moment, she sighed.
“Common sense isn’t enough, Gaelin. If you send Erin away to make room for me, you’ll hate me for it. Oh, you’d never say it, or even admit it to yourself, but deep in your heart you’d despise me for the rest of your life.” She shook her head and sank to the ground, turning away from him and staring into the crimson sunset. “You’re in love with her, and you can’t ever really get over that.”