Chapter 22: Shadow of Doubt
A Note from the Author: Thanks so much for your kind words in the reviews. It really goes a long way to encourage me, knowing that there's still a few people out there who were happy to see a long overdue update to this story.
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Chief Lucia of the Karaya strode through the hard-packed dirt streets of Chisha Village, hands clasped at her back. She kept a light pace to ensure that the elderly woman at her side could keep up. Lucia's thoughts raced like wild horses. She had two things she needed to accomplish on this day. The first seemed insurmountable. The second was dangerous, but seemed almost trivial by comparison. All she had to do was risk her life.
Chief Sana tottered along at Lucia's side, steadying herself on a gnarled blackwood cane. Sana had remained quiet for a time, and Lucia could sense that she was contemplating the words that had been spoken earlier. Sana remained spry for her advanced years, but the elder of the Chisha clan had seen too many winters to fight another war. Chisha, a small farming community of flat-topped homes and cone-shaped granaries formed from grayish-brown clay, crowned a hill in the heartlands of the Grasslands, a day's march from Uluath River.
Uluath River. The memory of the defeat suffered at the hands of the Harmonians stabbed like a thorn into Lucia's jumbled thoughts. The scrapes and bruises on her cheek and arm were a small price to pay for escaping with her life. Many had not been so lucky. At the river crossing, the Harmonian rune bearers had brought to bear the terrible power of the earth and the wind upon the clansmen. Hundreds of lives had been lost, and the survivors now huddled in Chisha. Warriors found shade against the buildings, accepting precious rainwater from young men and women hurrying about the village, carrying rapidly emptying jugs on their heads. Those with serious wounds were sheltered within the homes of the Chisha, while those with lighter injuries nursed their bandaged limbs near the curtained doorways, listening to the agonized howling of their crippled comrades.
The image of Uluath River's churning waters flashed into Lucia's mind, and she flinched as the scene played back in her head. She had seen rune magic force hundreds of panicked warriors to ford the river in retreat. She had seen them mowed down by the dozens. She had seen the blood of the fallen stain the pristine waters from the Seluan Mountains red. Where the bloodstained river flowed on, it seemed the lifeblood of her people drained away.
Lucia had led the defeated Grasslanders west in desperate flight, counting on the hospitality of their Chishan kin. The people of Chisha Village lived peaceful lives, wielding only spades, hoes, and pitchforks. They tilled the earth and raised crops, and had historically depended on the Karaya, the Saraak, and, until recently, Rina's mountain dwelling Safir, to defend their lands. Chief Sana had welcomed the battered survivors with open arms, opening their hearts and homes. But Chisha Village was no fortress. The Harmonian army would reach the village within days. Unless Lucia could find a way to halt their approach, Chisha Village would be trampled into dust.
Lucia searched the faces of the men and women choking Chisha's streets. How many of her people remained? And how many of them could still fight? So many were missing. She would count it a blessing of the spirits if she could still muster three thousand of her own Karayan warriors against the Harmonian invaders. Her people had gotten their hearts broken at Uluath River. They would need time to recover. Time. She cursed the word. She desperately needed to buy her people time. And to do that, she had to rouse the fighting spirit of these broken men and women. This was the first thing she needed to do on this day. And it was this task that seemed to Lucia almost impossible.
A shout came from the edge of the village. Lucia turned to look as mounted warriors dismounted at the base of the hill, tending to their winded horses. One of the men separated from the group and jogged up the hill towards Lucia. She recognized that shock of blonde hair held back from the man's forehead by a tightly wrapped bandana. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Beecham had returned.
Beecham trotted up to where Lucia and Sana stood. They clasped each other's arms, warrior bangles rattling and clacking against each other. Beecham then bowed his head to Chief Sana, who received the token of respect with a beatific smile, hands clasped atop her cane. She seemed to be sagging against the stick.
"What news of the Harmonians?" Lucia asked.
"The invaders have crossed Uluath River and made camp a few miles inland. They are in good order, but their supply train is stretched too thin. If my eyes don't deceive, the invaders are digging in and waiting for their wagons to catch up and cross the river before committing to an attack." Beecham glanced at Sana, his mouth tightening. He didn't say 'an attack on Chisha,' but the meaning was implied.
"How much time do we have?"
"A few days. As you guessed, Chief." Beecham grinned.
Lucia nodded. "I want our scouts to remain in position, watching the Harmonians. No more surprises."
Beecham nodded briskly. To the grizzled war leader, it was as good as a salute. Without another word, he strode off. Lucia beckoned Sana towards the edge of the village.
They passed one of the larger houses, its clay walls pitted with age. From within the domicile, the tortured moans and rattling coughs of dying men reached Lucia's ears. She tried to steel herself against it, but she couldn't help feeling the claws of despair clutching at her heart. The men and women who had fought for the Grasslands would find rest with the spirits. Such was the nature of the warrior. But countless more lives could be lost in the coming conflict.
In the wake of the disaster at Uluath River, with the ravages of rune magic still fresh in memory and marching back to Chisha with blood, sweat, and grime caking her cheeks, Lucia had considered surrender. But she well knew the price of vassalage under Holy Harmonia. The Carna Tribe, now known as the Harmonian province of Le Buque, had suffered this fate fifty years ago. 'Third class citizens' they were called. Third class. Lucia knew that the Karaya would waste away if they were to be made little better than livestock to the Harmonians. If the men and women of Karaya were forced to slave under the empire's yoke, building Ironhead cities on their ancestral lands to exult the glory of Holy Harmonia, would that not be a fate worse than death? Lucia had no answer.
"You're wrong, you know." Sana's sudden utterance startled Lucia from her thoughts. She knew of what the elder spoke. That morning, Lucia had confided in the elderly chief her darkest fear: that she was unfit to lead the Karaya through these trying times. Hugo had left for Vinay in search for vengeance, and had not been heard of since. The thought of her son, missing, perhaps captured or—her heart froze at the thought—dead, strung her out like a skin on the curing rack. Lucia worried that she could not lead the Karaya while her thoughts fixed constantly on the uncertain fate of her only child. How could she do right by them?
Lucia glanced around to make certain no one was near enough to listen to their conversation before saying, "Isn't it the duty of a chief to think of the tribe first, and her child second?"
Sana gave a low chuckle. Strangely, the sound was warm and comforting to Lucia's ears. "You speak a contradiction, Lucia. A chief is a mother to all her people. How can you be a mother and not worry over your child? Any chief who can ignore such a feeling is not fit to lead her clan."
"I don't see it as a strength," Lucia replied uneasily. "I just know that if my father were here, he'd…" She shook her head.
"You see your father through the eyes of a child, Lucia. Chief Kianu would suffer no less, were he here and you the one missing." Sana paused, fixed her eyes on Lucia over the top of her cane. "But he is not here, is he? Only you can lead the Karaya. Fear and worry, these things can be overcome in the midst of a crisis. Doubt, on the other hand, cannot. Doubt is a poison."
Sana moved in close to lay a gentle hand on Lucia's arm. Despite the feathery touch, and despite Sana's age-weakened grip, Lucia felt the grip as if it were steel. "You must abandon these thoughts, Chief Lucia. Our people look to you for leadership now. It is not the shrewdness of the Gani-Bara, not the ferociousness of the Saraak, nor the tenacity of the Chisha that our people look to for hope. It is the strength and indomitable will of the Karaya chief that men and women whisper of. Do not let them see you falter."
Lucia felt numb. She found herself nodding slowly. "Thank you, my friend," she said. Feeling teary-eyed, she spun around and cleared her throat, a bit more loudly than was necessary. "Tenacity, indeed!" She forced a bitter smile. She felt an overwhelming warmth for the elderly woman. "Wisdom too, I should think." Sana gave a croaky laugh.
The two of them continued their walk in silence. Their slow stroll soon took them to the east side of the hill, where a great deal of activity was underway. Trains of Chishan clansmen ran up and down the slope carrying bags of dirt. These laborers were directed into a furious storm of activity by Chief Rina, who stood overseeing the work personally. She was surrounded most of what remained of the Safir warriors, a few dozen sullen-eyed survivors of the Harmonian massacre that had driven them from their mountain homes. These bronze-skinned and dark-haired warriors wore wide sashes in black and red over their leather armor, and wielded short spears festooned with ribbons of red-and-purple cloth. The best of them were also adept with rune magic, particularly that of the wind and earth.
The glow of rune magic from Rina's Mother Earth Rune surrounded the woman as if a constant halo of power. Rina stood slightly slumped to one side, favoring her right leg in a manner bespeaking obvious fatigue. Even from a distance, Lucia could tell that the woman was near exhaustion. As they drew nearer, and the Safir honor guard parted to admit the two chiefs, Lucia could see that Rina's skin was pale and coated with sweat.
"You need rest," Lucia said.
"I'll know it's time to rest when my head hits the ground. You'll carry me to a cot, yes?" Rina did not take her eyes off of the embankment at the bottom of the hill. She was busying the power of her rune with churning and turning the earth, crafting a surprise for the Harmonians. When the invaders struck, they would find that the earth below their feet gave way. Or so Rina had promised. Now, seeing how much work went into completing these hidden fortifications, Lucia wondered if it wouldn't kill the Safir chief before it killed the Harmonians.
"Beecham's back."
That got Rina's attention. She snapped her eyes around and asked, "Our scouts…?"
"The Harmonians are vulnerable to a strike against their supply wagons. Tomorrow at dusk, I will lead the raid myself."
Rina hesitated, then nodded. Lucia could see the rune master's doubt in her eyes, but she also knew that Rina agreed with her on this. There was no other way. Lucia looked around, taking in the rush of heavy-breathing laborers, the practice knife-fighting and wrestling of restless youths who had escaped injury or had yet to see battle. She knew now that Sana was right. She could not let doubt stop her from serving the Grasslanders. She had a people to rally. It was this task that had seemed so insurmountable to her just before. But first, she had to take care of the day's other task.
She would meet with the Harmonian general.
Elya made a hand sign that beckoned the five Karayan scouts under her command to halt near the edge of the dense wood. She crawled forward another three yards to a fortuitously shaped boulder and squatted down, twisting the supple branch of an old-growth fir aside to get a better look at the Harmonian encampment. Soldiers at guard duty stood with spears planted, helmeted faces pointed away from the camp and scanning the horizon for approaching threats. Behind them, pearly white tents stood in neat rows, and the deep blue cloth of the Harmonian banners raised on flagstaffs fluttered in the Grasslands wind. Soldiers and camp followers milled about the artificial lanes and boulevards splitting the tents into squares, carrying weapons, tools, and foodstuffs. The smoke from campfires rose from at least a hundred places, thin gray wispy tendrils against the azure of the afternoon sky. The clang of hammers was a constant background noise, rising above the din of shouted commands and murmurs of distant conversations from soldiers huddling around the fires waiting for their daily gruel.
"It makes no sense," said Elya. She mentally counted the tents and campfires, and tried to gauge the number of the soldiers dwelling therein. Certainly the number of tents seemed to match the needs of the masses moving about the Harmonian forward camp. But it seemed to Elya that their estimations were constantly off. The Harmonian numbers would swell, then contract, then swell again, as if the camp were some great titan drinking the river and then spitting it back out. She had conferred with her own scouts, and with other scout leaders operating nearby, but no one had noticed anything untoward. For all intents and purposes, the Harmonian numbers were as they seemed. Only, it didn't make sense.
Worse yet, the Harmonian messengers had proved more than elusive. Chief Lucia had given orders for the Karayan forward scouts to observe first, but also to harry and delay by whatever tactic the Harmonian advance. Elya had not yet found the opportunity to lead such raids herself, but at least one other scout troop had been surprised when they trailed a Harmonian squadron of light horse over a hill, only to find the Harmonians gone when they emerged on the other side, as if the land had swallowed men and horses whole.
There was a commotion at the edge of the Harmonian camp. Elya snapped to attention, following the movement and crawling closer around the bend of the boulder to better see what was happening. What she saw was another troop of mounted scouts, four in total, gathering their reins and whirling their prancing horses around to gain control of the steeds. One soldier leaned down to accept a scroll case, likely bearing a missive, from an officer with a plumed helmet. Then the soldiers wheeled their horses around and with an audible "hiya" rushed off toward the north side of the woods.
Elya turned and padded back to her scouts, motioning the men and women into readiness. She knew the path the horsemen must take. The open ground narrowed at the precipice of a canyon, then led along the forest in many a twist and turn until a trail through the sparse woods opened up. If they hurried, they could overtake the horsemen and ambush them near the stream. They would show the intruders who knew these lands best.
The Karayans moved like wraiths through the woods, disturbing little and breaking nothing. Elya prided herself on the fact that any Harmonian who ventured through the forest would be unlikely to ever hear or see her troop. Elya respected the Harmonian feats of soldiering, and had to admit that their display of strength at Uluath River had struck fear into her heart. But mostly, she resented the Harmonians for interfering with the war between the clans and Zexen. The Harmonians had prevented the Karaya from having their vengeance.
To Elya, the Ironheads of Zexen and the Harmonian conquerors were much the same. Blind to the light of the spirits, wrapped in coward's iron, and useless as a newborn babe when separated from their cities and camps. But the Karaya owed the Ironheads of Zexen a river of blood, a storm of fire. The Ironheads had burned Karaya, putting women and children to the sword. The fighting between the clans and the Ironheads had ran hot for centuries, and reached fever pitch on countless occasions, but never before had the Ironheads revealed themselves to be such honorless dogs. Elya and many with her had sworn oaths to see Vinay razed to the ground in answer. There had to be an answer. Only then could the spirits of the dead find rest. There had to be some justice in this world.
At the forward scout's signal, Elya slowed and crouched down by a rotted and hollow tree trunk laid out in the underbrush. Through the thinning wood ahead, they could see snatches of silhouettes as men on horses passed by. The sound of trotting hooves rang loud in Elya's ears.
Elya signaled for the scouts to take position in the bushes on the ledge above the narrow trail the horsemen must appear on within minutes. The scouts crept into their hiding places, and waited. Elya's stomach tensed up as it always did before a battle. Her hands turned white with effort around the hilts of her daggers. She forced her muscles to relax, exhaled slowly. She thought of the last time she had been in this position. Uluath River. Where her brother had died. She felt a stab of pain to her heart every time she thought of Robal, as painful now as it had been the day before. Worse, maybe. She had not yet told their mother of her brother's fate.
The horses appeared around the bend, thundered down the trail. Elya tensed her legs, tested the ground beneath her feet for purchase, and drew her knives, careful to conceal the blades behind her back to ensure that no light would glint off the steel blades. She waited for the first horse to pass beneath her. She counted her heartbeats. One beat, two beats… Then the middle pair were past. Another heartbeat, and then she launched herself from her hiding place.
Elya pitched down, struck the mounted soldier in the shoulder, and threw him out of his saddle. The man's horse swept past, paying no mind. The soldier yelped, helmed striking the dirt with a dull clank. Panic rose in his eyes as his foot caught in the stirrup and he was dragged behind the running horse. Screaming, he managed to twist loose and shakily got to his feet, searching his belt for his scabbard.
Elya landed gracefully on the trail and rushed the soldier, forestalling the drawing of his sword with a stab at his arm. The knife bit deep and vicious into the man's flesh, and the soldier howled. Elya swung the other knife up and across the man's throat, slicing it from ear to ear. The soldier gurgled wordlessly, and stumbled onto his knees, then tumbled over. His helmet twisted askew as he fell, and blood pooled around his head.
Elya turned and took stock of the situation. During the fight, she had focused completely on her own battle, and trusted the rest to her warriors. Now she could see, not without pride, that her trust had been well placed. Counting her own, four Harmonian corpses dotted the ground. Three horses were in hand, the fourth galloping down the trail and away from them. Her five men and women stood cleaning knives and short swords, pushing the bodies out of sight to be dumped deeper in the woods. Before they left, they would cover the blood with fallen leafs, and rake the earth to remove any signs of struggle. This would ensure that the ambush site could be used again in the future.
Suddenly, there was a strange noise. Elya found it difficult to place. It was as if the air had warped and twisted, and something stepped through. It was not natural. Elya whirled around, scanning the woods with knives aimed at every shadow.
There, straight ahead on the trail behind them, a troop of Harmonian soldiers marched into view. Arrayed in perfect formation, spears raised, their faces obscured by helmets. Only, they couldn't be here. It was impossible for a troop of foot soldiers to reach this site so fast from the Harmonian camp.
"Flee! Scatter into the woods!" Elya said. She turned to dash away.
And there, tramping up the dirt from the other side, was another troop of soldiers. They appeared so suddenly that their steel spearheads struck before her scouts even had a chance to react. The flawless steel bit through Goulin's leather armor and deep into his shoulder, stomach, and leg. The warrior went down in a flurry of jabbing spears. Neala was hoisting herself up the steep side of the trail when the spears hacked up her back. She twitched violently, then her arms lost strength, and she fell, still impaled on the spears.
Elya slammed aside a spearhead and swiped at the lead soldier's face. Her dagger slammed into the man's helmet and knocked it aside. What she saw underneath chilled her.
The man was not a man. The helmet vanished into thin air, and the creature revealed underneath had features that roiled and whorled, like oil mixed with water and stirred in a glass flask. An illusion! Suddenly the strange troop movements all made sense. Elya had to get away, had to warn Chief Lucia. She deflected another spear jab and leapt up the side of the trail, bounding onto the fat face of a protruding rock and grabbing onto a thick exposed root. She pulled herself hand over hand up the dirt wall, and was soon out of reach of the soldiers below. Elya paused to wipe sweat from her hands to steady her grip, and then made to pull herself to the top.
With a sickening rip, the root tore loose from its dead tree. Elya had time to curse as she fell. Then the fall knocked the wind from her lungs. Her eyes cleared just in time to see the glint of steel of the spears stabbing down at her. Unfortunately, the first six thrusts were not killing blows.
Luc straightened in his saddle as he watched Chief Lucia of the Karaya ride her horse into the circle of Harmonian soldiers. The chieftain paid no attention to the warding spears of hard-eyed guardsmen lining her path. She wore snowy white ribbons knotted about her biceps, signaling her intent to parlay. For all that Lucia showed, the white bands might as well have been impenetrable armor. The circle closed behind Lucia, and she stopped before the contingent of officers headed by General Silverberg.
Luc studied with interest the features of the Karayan chief. They had crossed paths once before, fifteen years ago, when the barbarian had taken to the field for Highland in the Dunan Unification War. She had been a young woman then, a fresh-faced beauty with a viper's touch and a fire swelling in her chest. She had cut her long blonde hair short. The intervening years and motherhood had matured her, allowing her youthful features to blossom into a stern beauty, her svelte form held with dignity. Even with Sarah sitting stately and serene close at his side, Luc had to admit that the barbarian was a handsome lady, stunning in her exotic allure. As his thoughts drifted, his True Rune stirred – an itch on his palm, a plea to unleash the rune's power. He pushed the urge down, not without trouble. Some subtle movement of his shoulders must have betrayed him, for Sarah eyed him with concern.
"I am Chief Lucia of the Karaya. Who speaks for the Harmonians?"
Albert nudged his horse forward a step and raised a hand. "I, Albert Silverberg, speak for the Most Exalted Bishop Sasarai, Defender of Holy Harmonia." Albert glanced at the woman's knotted peace bands. "Have you come to broker a truce, Chief Lucia?"
Lucia had visibly blanched at the mention of the Silverberg name, but to her credit, she recovered quickly, smoothing the shock from her features. Luc couldn't decide if she believed the claim or not. Sasarai had chosen Albert to be his voice, hoping that the strategist's hallowed name would deter the barbarians from further resistance against the inevitable. He rightly assumed that the name of a Bishop, even that of Sasarai, would mean little or nothing in the Grasslands. The Silverberg family, however, were famous throughout the known world for their king-making strategies.
"We are prepared to offer a truce," Lucia said. Luc raised an eyebrow, and he heard a murmur pass through the assembled officers. "Our terms are simple," she carried on above the whispers, "Harmonian troops will immediately withdraw from the Grasslands, evacuate the Safir homeland, and release all prisoners captured in this conflict."
Scattered laughter erupted from the elite soldiers serving as Sasarai's escort. Even some of the officers were unable to contain their mirth. Albert silenced them with a sharp gesture. He watched the chief in silence for a while before saying, "You speak boldly, Chief of Karaya. I do not doubt your bravery, but Uluath River should have taught you a lesson. One does not oppose Holy Harmonia."
Lucia met the general's eyes calmly. "There are some lessons I'm not prepared to learn. We will fight, if necessary."
Albert hesitated. Luc sensed his agitation, even as he tried to master it. "Do you truly wish for your people to die?" he asked, not without irritation. "I remind you, surrender is still on the table. The Most Exalted Bishop Sasarai would show mercy."
Lucia shook her head sadly. "You would make slaves of our sons and daughters. You do not know the meaning of the word, 'mercy'."
Albert frowned. "Is there no way to avoid further bloodshed? We did not come here to destroy the Safir, or the Karaya for that matter."
"Tell me, Albert Silverberg, why did you come?"
Albert straightened in his saddle, hands on his legs. "Fifty years ago, a treasure of Holy Harmonia was stolen from Crystal Valley. The Absolute One, may he be eternal, wishes this treasure returned to him."
Lucia flinched. "The True Fire Rune..."
Albert did not need to answer – his silence told the chieftain everything she needed to know. The general broke the silence after a long moment. "The Most Exalted Bishop Sasarai has been tasked with returning this true rune to Crystal Valley. We require the complete cooperation of the Grasslands clans and the Zexen Confederacy to accomplish this. We will only fight if we are forced to do so."
Lucia laughed. It was a hearty laugh, filled with the vigor and confidence of a barbarian. To Luc, it sounded liberating. The thought churned his stomach, and for a brief moment of self-pity and loathing, he considered unleashing the power of the True Wind Rune against the barbarian chief.
"Albert Silverberg of Harmonia, Uluath River should have taught you a lesson too. We clansmen will never surrender. We will never yield. If you force us, we will fight to the last man or woman, and you will lick your wounds and remember forever your mistake of pushing the people of the Grasslands up against a wall. I now tell you, consider well your next move. Retreat is still on the table…" The woman had the audacity to grin.
Albert, for his part, merely scowled. All he could add was, "Very well. I fear it is you who will come to regret your decisions, Chief Lucia… This parlay is over. If you change your mind, you'll know where to find us."
Lucia snorted. "How could I forget? You make camp in the ruins of my ancestors' homes." The chief spun her horse around and gently nudged the beast into a brisk trot away from the meeting place. When she had passed well beyond bowshot, Sasarai pushed his steed through a throng of elite soldiers to reach Luc.
"Masked Bishop, give me your thoughts. What do you make of the Karayan chief?"
The bishop's face, a haunting mirror of his own, was impassive. Luc wondered if his dreams too were plagued by the visions of his cursed True Rune. Seeing his calm face, he could not imagine they were. "Your excellency. That woman is dangerous. Unpredictable. But I do not believe she or her people pose a serious threat to our campaign."
Sasarai motioned for Albert to join them. "Silverberg, give me your thoughts."
Albert clutched at his forehead with some frustration before gathering up his thoughts. He said, "She seems sincere in her sentiments. But the Karayan chief is clever enough to know when she is outmatched. She is not too proud to resort to trickery and deceit to win her freedom."
"Tell me what she will do, Master Strategist."
"Our wagons are fording Uluath River. Right now, our supply train is stretched from the edge of the mountains and all out to our forward camp. It will be another two days before we can move on Chisha. The Karayans will attempt a strike at our baggage train before then. Tomorrow night, most likely."
"I see," said Sasarai. "Give your recommendation."
"We will set an ambush for this raiding party. With any luck, Chief Lucia is too proud to burden the shoulders of another with the heavy weight of leadership of such a critical strike. If we capture the Karayan chieftain, she can be used as a bargaining chip to force the Grasslanders to surrender, and spare us any further bloodshed."
"And if the chief is not captured? If there is no surrender?"
Albert frowned at the ground. "Then we will move upon Chisha. We'll surround the village and fight our way in, wiping the Grasslanders out if necessary."
Sasarai smiled as if satisfied. He turned his gaze toward the direction Chief Lucia had left. For a long moment, he stared off into the distance. Then, he added, "The air is redolent with the scent of tilled earth. I sense the presence of a Mother Earth Rune, hard at work. The barbarian rune master prepares some surprise for us at Chisha."
Albert seemed taken aback at that.
"See that you prepare a countermeasure," Sasarai said, leading his horse off.
Luc stared after the bishop's receding form. The officers formed up around him, and the elite guards encircled Sasarai as he made his way back to the camp. Luc glanced at Albert, who seemed lost in thought. The general seemed genuinely frustrated by the prospect of the impending bloodbath. Luc did not doubt Silverberg's loyalty, but he worried for the man. He worried that, when the time came to remove Bishop Sasarai, Albert would hesitate. Even if only for a moment.
Hugo had never known queens, but if ever he saw one ride a horse, he imagined she would look like Chris astride her Harmonian gelding. The knight rode straight-backed, legs supple and gripping the horse's flanks with a relaxed pressure, guiding the animal along with almost imperceptible applications of pressure. Out of armor, Chris managed the bareback ride without issue, making do without the saddle that had somehow been slashed from the horse's back in the chaos of the events unfurling last night in the Forbidden Ground. Still in her battle-ruined clothes with slashes of dried blood edging the tears in the fabric, Chris wore her dirty hair in a tightly-wrapped bun at the back of her head to keep the wind from catching it. Even in her disheveled state, Hugo grudgingly saw the knight's dignity shine through. Not that he'd ever tell her as much. Ironheads were already too big for their britches and then some.
Chris led the way atop her gelding, with Lilly following closely along, imperious as ever. She wore her hat like a crown, chin held high and pointing, the image of royalty marred only by her need to hold the wide-brimmed hat down against the wind. Her long brown tresses danced behind her as she rode. Behind her, Yumi followed on another Harmonian horse, this one with a saddle. The Kinese woman was the least accustomed to horsemanship, which is why Yun sat with Hugo atop the last of the horses recovered from the outlander soldiers, her small arms wrapped around his waist.
After he regained his strength that morning, Hugo had set out to track down some of the runaway horses that had fled the Harmonian camp in the wake of the Incarnation's rampage. Two initial hoof trails had led only to carcasses of horses killed by stabbing spears and swords. The bodies had been untouched- even the flies had fled the Forbidden Ground. His luck had picked up toward midday when he followed a faint trail across muddy stone and found the four horses seeking comfort in each other's company within an untouched glade. Now the animals served the rag-tag band as they raced for Chisha Village. Hugo's thoughts filled with haunting images of the dead bodies of men and horses, and the cold grins of the walking dead. He wondered what awaited him in Chisha.
As if she could sense his thoughts, Yun leaned forward to say, "Don't worry. We're not too late."
Hugo grunted. "I hope you're right."
"There is still time. But we must hurry."
The girl's words sent a cold chill running through Hugo's body. The Kinese were the most reclusive of the clans, and it was said that the women of the woods practiced strange and ancient rituals of enchantment and soothsaying. The few men Hugo knew who had gone to the Kinese village remained ever tight-lipped about their experiences. The thought that Yun could know that Chisha hadn't fallen might've been comforting, if the thought that she could somehow see into the future hadn't horrified him.
Chris rounded a bend in the trail along the ridge and suddenly pulled up short, reaching for the sword at her side. Hugo whipped a dagger from its sheath and placed a hand on Yun's arm. "Don't worry. Just be quiet." He swung a leg over the horse's head and leaped off his mount, padding silently up to the slope beside the trail. He scrambled up the loose scree, hoping to get over the top and intercept whatever Chris had encountered from the other side. Stones shifted underfoot as he climbed, pouring down in his wake as his feet tore them free. Just as he reached the top, he heard Chris gasp in surprise. Hugo pulled himself over the summit.
There, right in the middle of the road, were planted two familiar figures. When Hugo saw their faces, he could only gape. All thought of stealth vanished.
Sitting sidesaddle atop a handsome black horse was a familiar outlander woman wearing bulky woolen garments in earth colors. Apple leaned back on her spread palms, smiling beatifically. On the trail before her, also facing Chris and Lilly, slouched a young man, uncouth red hair almost obscuring his eyes, one hand in a pocket and a self-satisfied grin on his face.
"Well well," said Caesar.
"How did you…" Hugo slipped and slid down the slope to where the outlanders waited. Chris and Lilly gave a start at his appearance, but he pressed on, "How did you get here ahead of us?"
Caesar gave a lopsided shrug. "Suppose I'm a genius."
Apple sighed, sliding from her seat by way of the stirrup and brushing her long skirts. She placed a hand on Caesar's shoulder and said, "Alright, enough posturing. Tell them what they need to know."
Caesar grimaced and tossed his unruly crimson tresses out of his eyes. "Fine, fine. The clans suffered a terrible defeat at Uluath River-don't worry, your mother's fine-and have drawn back to Chisha and are preparing a defense against the Harmonian army." He counted facts off on his fingers as if listing items from a textbook. "Chief Lucia's scouts will have discovered by now that the Harmonian weakness is their extended supply train. Chief Lucia will send a raiding party to intercept the supply train as they are crossing the river and attempt to sabotage it. The Harmonian strategist knows this. He will trap and annihilate the raiding party. Chief Lucia will then-"
"No," Hugo interrupted. He felt cold, clammy all of a sudden. "My mother will lead the raiding party herself. It is her way."
Caesar flinched, but somehow he looked more disappointed in himself than anything else. "That changes things." He glanced at Apple, who merely gave him a dark look. He shrugged again. "Then, you must hurry to stop this raiding party, or else Chisha is lost and the Grasslands belong to Harmonia. We will, of course, come with you."
Chris had dismounted and now walked up beside Hugo. "How do you know this?" she asked.
Caesar looked less than pleased. "The Harmonian strategist is my brother."