Sasha

'That land's impossible,' Jurellyn answered. 'These ridges run down from the Nyfaal Range here that forms the valley's eastern ridge

…' he demonstrated with his sword, more lines in the dirt, 'all the way out to here. To escape the valley with any kind of a force, one must follow the river. The key to the river is Ymoth, and we hold it.'

'M'Lady,' Akryd tried one last time, 'we've no time to plan an ambush. Usyn is nearly upon us, and…'

Sasha jabbed at a spot upon the line that marked the riverbank. 'Here,' she said. 'Jurellyn, this bank is wooded, yes?'

'Aye, M'Lady. Mostly broadleaf, nearest the river. Plenty of undergrowth, not good for riding warhorses, certainly not in numbers. But dussieh could ride there. I have. You could put… oh, hundreds there. Maybe a thousand. Wouldn't see them from the road.'

'We'll do that,' she said with certainty. 'Every dussieh in the ranks. They'll cut the line in half, we'll smash them head-on. Agreed?' Looking about the group. Some voiced their assent, loudly. Others murmured it, reluctantly. Several remained silent. Akryd was one. 'Agreed?' Sasha repeated, looking at him firmly.

'Aye,' Akryd sighed, with the air of a man doomed to an unpleasant fate. 'Aye, M'Lady. We will at that.'

Twenty

Sasha sat astride her horse in the middle of the road that wound along the right bank of the Yumynis River. The sky was dull with early twilight, yet somewhere beyond the western mountains, there seemed to be a break in the clouds. Beyond Ymoth, peaks glowed yellow on their far sides, as if silhoutted with ligh. Low-angled rays fell upon the mouth of the Udalyn Valley ahead, and those craggy slopes seemed to glow.

To either side of the road lay vast fields of grain with pale green stalks and golden heads. They rippled in the light wind, moving swathes of colour in the glow from the further mountains. To her left, the Yumynis flowed wide and gentle, rugged forests encroaching upon its rocky left bank where the foothills came directly down to the river. Poplar and willow continued to line the banks and Sasha wondered if they had been planted long ago by human hand and maintained all this time.

Ahead, majestic upon the riverbank, was an exquisite pagoda of beautiful arches, apparently well maintained. Talleryn symbols climbed the supporting posts, a foreign, strange script whose shapes seemed to repeat through the form of the structure itself. This was a culture enlightened, yet almost lost. This, surely, was worth fighting for.

Behind her, across the fields of grain, stretched the forward rank of an army. Warhorses waited now more calmly than before, greatly tired from the day's exertions. Many nibbled at the grain as they waited. Soon, much of these unharvested fields would be destroyed. A necessary sacrifice, she hoped. To the rear, a new reserve was gathered, and once again Sofy was with them. Sasha had considered leaving her at Ymoth… but again, Ymoth was badly exposed to raids from Hadryn villagers to the east, its garrison held by fewer than a hundred men. Thankfully, Usyn's forces had brought with them plenty of chain and manacles, enough to bind most of the Banneryd who had surrendered. Two new men protected Sofy in the reserve. Where Jaryd was, no one knew.

Peg shifted tiredly beneath her and tossed his head, with somewhat less than his usual vigour. Those men tasked with caring for the horses had man aged to get him a drink, some feed, and a very basic wash to remove the dried froth and sweat, but nothing more. She leaned forward now and rubbed his neck.

'I'm sorry,' she told him, to the backward, attentive twist of one ear. 'I know you're tired. Just a little more. One more charge, Peglyrion, son of Hyathon the Warrior. Then you can rest.'

There was a gentle rise in the fields ahead. Beyond it, she could hear the distant roll of many hooves, drawing slowly near. Usyn was marching fast, wishing to make camp before the walls of Ymoth prior to nightfall. Surely he'd had scouts enough to tell him that Ymoth had fallen. Jurellyn's latest report had said that his line was much wider than the road, and trampled much of the grain on either side… but still, not a combat-ready formation. Jurellyn's men had killed several Hadryn scouts just recently and it was unlikely Usyn knew of her latest move. In scouts, at least, Sasha knew that her column possessed a clear advantage, both in number and talent. Usyn sacrificed caution for haste and gambled that they wouldn't dare attack the Hadryn heavy horse on open ground. This had to work. Surely it would.

She felt strangely calm, unlike before the previous charge. Fatalistic, perhaps. Maybe that should have worried her-in all the great tales of doomed heroes in battle, all had accepted their fate before the end and faced it without fear. Sasha gazed at the mountains that flanked the valley mouth ahead, all alight in a golden glow, and felt that surely there was something here at work that was not of any merely human plane.

'Are you there?' she thought toward the valley. 'The valley of the Udalyn is said to be the home of many great Lenay spirits. Where is my Synnich spirit hiding? They call me the Synnich, but I cannot hear you. Speak to me.'

Riders moved up on her sides-her four surviving vanguard riders from the first charge, plus two new ones. Or no, she realised, looking around-four new ones. There riding up behind, were Errollyn, Terel, Tassi and Aisha. Errollyn stopped at her side. He too gazed at the golden valley beyond. His handsome face was serene.

'You don't need to come, you know,' Sasha told him.

Errollyn smiled, and gave a faint shrug. 'We chose to,' he said simply. 'We,' Errollyn had said, with complete certainty. Sasha recalled the battle just past. The effortless coordination, the serrin guiding their horses in unison. Tassi distracting one Banneryd's attention, while Aisha killed him from the other side. 'And we were appointed by the others. They saw we protected you in the last battle, and wished us to do the same in this one. We accepted the honour.'

'Can you tell each other's thoughts?' Sasha asked, feeling suddenly curious. It seemed a good time to ask. Suddenly, she wished she had asked a great many more questions than she had. Of many people, and many things.

Errollyn spared her a curious, green-eyed glance. 'A question of debate, amongst the serrinim,' he conceded. 'The vel'ennar is not what you suggest. And yet, in some ways, perhaps it is.' The vel'ennar Another Saalsi term for which there was no direct translation into any human tongue Sasha was aware of. The 'single spirit,' perhaps. Or maybe the 'great soul.' Something singular, and yet divided. And so like the serrin, to take seemingly contradictory concepts and twine them together to make a whole.

Sasha snorted in amusement. 'I bet I couldn't get a straight answer from a serrin on his deathbed.'

Errollyn's smile spread wide. Stunningly. 'The world is not simple,' he said coyly. 'To value the chaos is to value life.'

'Difficult people,' Sasha teased.

Errollyn shrugged. 'We cannot help but be what we are, any more than humans can.'

'I am glad of it,' Sasha said softly. 'The world would be a far poorer place without the serrinim. It has occurred to me very slowly, over the last few days, just what some of these people see in me. The Goeren-yai and the Verenthanes. Tyrun insisted that I was the only person to lead this column. Teriyan too, and others. At first I was angry. I thought surely they could find someone else. But I've thought about it, and I concede I can't think of anyone.'

Errollyn's gaze was intensely curious. His stare held a force that only a serrin could wield. 'Why do you think?' he asked.

'To be a leader of both the faiths is difficult, I suppose,' said Sasha. 'In this land, with our history. We are a divided land, if not by faith then by language and region. I think I understand better now why Kessligh had such faith in Lenay royalty, and in my father despite his flaws. Royalty is of no particular province, but of all Lenayin, and is, as such, a uniting force, not a dividing one. But then, royalty cannot unite everyone, especially when it is so strongly Verenthane, and does not treat the Goeren-yai fairly.'

'But you are neither Verenthane nor Goeren-yai,' Errollyn completed for her. He turned his gaze to the golden, sunlit mountains, as if drinking in their splendour. 'Such was always the intention of the Nasi-Keth. To find a third way. That is you, Sashandra. I am certain Kessligh was aware of this. Perhaps it worried him. He always considered Petrodor and the Bacosh as the centre of all the world's troubles, the questions to which he wished to contribute. He went to Lenayin, in part, to find an uma untainted by Petrodor thinking and prejudices.