Shadow's master

“I am Lord Keegan, high captain of the Free Clans of Eregoth.”

Josey rode with her head down in the dark, hands clasping the saddle horn. A grizzled woodsman with a bristly red beard held the reins of her steed. Brian strode beside her with his hands tied before him and a loop of rope around his neck. They had been traveling for two to three candlemarks, she guessed, deeper and deeper into a wood that proved more extensive than she first imagined. With every passing mile Josey became more and more confused. They should have met up with other enemy units by now, or even the main body. She found it hard to believe that the invaders could have outpaced them so swiftly, not with so many men on foot with all the wagons and such they would require to sustain their march. But if they weren't going to meet the warlord, then where?

The young leader, Keegan, walked somewhere at the head of the company. Lord Keegan, he had called himself, but Josey seriously doubted his claim to nobility. She considered calling for him so she could demand some answers, but before she could muster the will, lights appeared between the trees ahead. She smelled woodsmoke and cooking as the forest path opened into a wide clearing where a camp was laid out on the grass. She counted six fire pits and a dozen or so canopies lashed to tree trunks to make crude tents.

As the woodsmen filed into the campsite, Keegan approached her. Josey opened her mouth, but hesitated as he drew a long knife from his belt and stopped in front of Brian.

“I'm told southern knights value their honor above their lives,” the youth said. With a quick slash, he cut the rope binding Brian's hands. “If you try to escape, we'll put that notion to the test.”

While Brian massaged his wrists, Keegan turned to Josey. “Milady, we don't have much to offer, but there's hot food if you will please join me.”

With a look to Brian-who thankfully held his tongue-Josey dismounted. A familiar voice rang out through the trees.

“Majesty!”

Josey was almost bowled over as Iola ran up and embraced her in a fierce hug. Tears burst in the corners of Josey's eyes as the emotions she'd been holding in broke free. They hugged each other and sobbed for several minutes before Iola peeled herself away. Rubbing her wet cheeks with both hands, the girl made a formal curtsy. “Majesty, we didn't think…I mean, we feared the…Oh! We're so happy to see you, Majesty!”

“We?”

Josey looked past Iola to see a group of people sitting on the ground. Her tears threatened to flow again when Captain Drathan stood up stiffly and made a firm salute. Behind him were Lieutenant Butus, with a fresh bandage around his neck, and Sergeant Trenor and so many other faces she'd thought she would never see again. Forgetting about her captors, she went over to them. There were at least two score of her people here. Doctor Krav was working on a wounded soldier by the light of a lantern.

“How is this possible?” Josey asked. “How did you all survive?”

“We ran,” Iola said. “When runners returned to the camp with news that the battle was going badly, we packed up the wounded in carts and started away.”

“It was Iola, Majesty.” Captain Drathan looked odd without his weapons. His left arm was held in a sling, and he had a few other scrapes, but otherwise he appeared hale and whole. “She organized the retreat. Without her, many more would have perished.”

Iola blushed at his words, and Josey had to fight back a laugh born of relief. But her gaiety ended when she looked to the woodsmen roaming around the camp.

“They're not sure what to do with us,” a gruff voice said.

Josey turned and hugged its owner. “Master Hirsch! I thought I'd lost you, too!”

The adept disengaged himself as politely as possible, hissing softly as he peeled away from her. Through several rents in his shabby coat she saw white dressings, spotted with blood in a few places. “Oh, Hirsch! I'm sorry. Are you all right?”

“I'll live. At least a little longer.”

“Hirsch, what happened? Those explosions-”

“Aye, lass. Sorcery. A little surprise we weren't expecting.”

Josey's pulse thumped in her ears as she thought back to her experiences with Caim and his strange abilities. She lowered her voice. “Hardly just a little surprise, Master Hirsch. The invaders destroyed my army, killed hundreds of our soldiers, and eradicated the only thing standing between them and Nimea's heartlands. As catastrophes go, I'd say this was a major one.”

A shadow passed over the adept's face as he bent down to the fire. “The enemy commander was very strong in the Art.”

Josey knelt beside him. The heat felt wondrous on her hands and face. “Stronger than you?”

“It's difficult to say. His sorcery had no structure, no internal logic that I could fathom.”

“But you can defeat him, right?”

“I don't know, lass. Perhaps I could devise a way, with time.”

Something we don't have.

Josey breathed into her hands as she looked around the camp. Woodsmen stood and sat wrapped in fur cloaks, looking cold and a little malnourished, and nothing like the fearsome troops that had routed her army.

Captain Drathan and Brian came over to the fire. “Majesty,” Brian whispered. “We have a plan. If we can get you onto my horse, your men and I will handle the guards and-”

“No,” she cut him off. “No one else is going to risk their life for me.”

“Majesty!” Captain Drathan's mouth hung open. “Your safety is our only priority. These men are dangerous.”

“These are the Eregoths my father feared,” Brian said. “Savages more practiced at rape and pillage than warfare. There's no telling what they are capable of.”

Josey shook her head. “I said no. Now swear to me you won't do anything without my permission.”

Captain Drathan frowned, but he jerked his chin up and down in a firm nod. Brian just looked at her. Josey stared back. “Swear it, or leave my service now.”

“I swear,” Brian said, his lips drawn back in a thin line.

A guardsman hissed, and Josey stood up as Keegan approached with a few of his men. “My lady,” the young man said. “Will you come with me?”

Captain Drathan started to intercede, with Brian right behind him, but Josey held out a hand. “No. It's all right.”

She followed the enemy leader away from the fire. A tall man in rawhide pants and vest brought them steaming cups. Josey accepted without asking what it was. The smell rising from the steam was horrible, but she didn't care. Just wrapping her fingers around the hot cup was a blessing.

Keegan watched her while he took a sip. His nose was a trifle too thin and pointed at the end. The bristles of new beard growth hid a soft chin, lending him the look of a young wolf. The pink half-moon scar carved into his left cheek was recent. “It's mulled mead.”

Josey nodded and took a sip. The drink was actually quite good with a strong taste of honey, and it warmed her insides.

“Your war leader made a mistake,” he said. “Offering battle like that. You didn't have the numbers.”

“How astute.” Josey allowed herself to glare, just a little. “You named yourself high captain of Eregoth, but the last I heard that land was ruled by a duke. Please don't tell me I've been captured by some upstart tribal chieftain's son with dreams of grandeur.”

The youth drained his cup and set it aside. “Duke Erric is dead. Eregoth is free once more, no longer in thrall to the Eviskines, nor to her Nimean overlords of old.”

“Is that why you've invaded my country? To wreak vengeance on your old masters?”

Now it was his turn to frown. “We're no invaders. We've come for the Thunder Lord.”

“Who?”

“The one who bears this symbol.” He dug into his jacket and pulled out a scrap of black cloth. A fist holding a lightning bolt was stitched into the fabric. “He's a northern warlord named Talus. Some say he's a sorcerer, and I believe it, too, after what I've seen.”

Josey recalled the battle, the explosions tearing out huge chunks of the earth, littering the field with corpses