'The Udalyn were outnumbered twenty to one, at best. But within the valley's narrow confines, their defences gained hope. Over many days and nights, the Udalyn made a fighting retreat up the length of their valley, and their enemies paid a high price for every stride advanced. Finally, the morale of the Verenthane north began to wane, for the Udalyn slew five and more attackers for every loss, so great was their desire to survive as a people and pass on their traditions to the next generation.
'Essyn Telgar saw his glorious victory slipping away, as his men refused to advance further. He rode out before the Udalyn and offered that they could convert to Verenthaneism and save their lives. In reply, the Udalyn charged, full of fury and vengeance. They crashed into an army that was still ten times their number and split them down the centre. Tharyn Askar himself, it is told, carved his way through ten of Essyn's personal guard and family to slay Essyn Telgar by his own hand, before falling dead from wounds. The remaining Verenthanes broke and ran, and the Udalyn survived-the last, small pocket of Goeren-yai defiance in a Verenthane sea.
'Several times in the years to follow, successive Lords of Hadryn attempted to rid their land of their ancient enemy. Each time, though greatly outnumbered, the Udalyn were victorious. Then Chayden Lenayin came to the throne-your esteemed grandfather, Prince Damon, M'Lady Sashandra. He saw how the fate of the Udalyn had aroused the passions of all Lenay Goeren-yai, and forbid the Telgars of Hadryn to attack the Udalyn again. Since that time, the Hadryn have left the Valley of the Udalyn largely alone under King's orders-a policy continued to this day by your father, my Prince, M'Lady. And I pray that it shall always be such.'
Sasha took a skewer of cooking meat from the fire by its wood handle and gave it to Tyrun-reward for a tale well told. Tyrun gave a small smile of thanks.
'And now Lord Krayliss attempts to play the Udalyn card once more,' Damon said. His own food remained largely untouched upon his plate. 'Why? What is to gain?'
'The Udalyn are the one issue,' Sasha replied, 'the one singular thing, upon which all Goeren-yai can agree. They are heroes. They are the very symbol of Goeren-yai pride, courage and the will to survive in the face of advancing foreign religions. Krayliss claims to represent the old ways, and the Udalyn fly that banner far better than he. He dreams of an age long past, before the coming of Verenthanes, when Lenayin was wild and free.'
'And a bloody, barbarian rabble,' said Kessligh, with his usual diplomacy. Sasha knew well enough what Kessligh thought of such romanticism… and of her own undeniable attraction to it.
She shrugged, too wise by now to respond with temper. 'Aye,' she said. 'Krayliss would bring back those days if he could, the good and the bad. But most Goeren-yai are too smart for that. Lowlands trade is prosperous and many have benefited. So long as Baen-Tar does not attempt to convert them by force or coercion, they care not if the towns all pray to lowlands gods. And so Krayliss grows desperate. He needs the Udalyn. He is the last remaining Goeren-yai lord-although he would style himself as chieftain-and he claims blood ties to Tharyn Askar himself. On such credit does he ask the Goeren-yai of all Lenayin to love him.'
'And now there comes talk of lowlands war,' said Kessligh. There was a note to his voice, and his expression, that Sasha did not like. It suggested a certain exasperation. A dark, brooding disgust. Well
… she was disgusted too, by fools like the Rashyds and Kraylisses alike. Yet she doubted if that were the only target of Kessligh's distaste. 'To reclaim Verenthane holy lands in the Bacosh, no less. As well invade the moon to reclaim its silver. Bacosh, Torovan, it's all lowlands-Verenthane-and a world away. Folks here aren't interested. And Krayliss seeks an advantage.'
Damon seemed about to reply, but Sasha cut him off. 'It's worse than that,' she said with force, somewhat annoyed with her uman for oversimplifying. 'Don't you see? Krayliss seeks to turn the entire province of Taneryn down the path of the Udalyn before them. He's killed the Great Lord of Hadryn, that much seems clear. Just as Tharyn Askar, his ancestor, killed Essyn Telgar a century before. He tries to relive old Goeren-yai glories.'
'Taneryn is a province unto itself,' Damon replied, frowning. 'The Valley of the Udalyn is entirely within the borders of Hadryn province. Few from outside have even met one of the Udalyn.'
Sasha shrugged. 'That only makes the Udalyn legend grow stronger. Damon, Hadryn is powerful. All the northern Verenthane provinces are. Endless battles against Cherrovan incursions, and favourable taxation from BaenTar, have made them so. Few other provinces can match them for sheer force of arms, least of all quiet, rustic Taneryn. Most Taneryns know this. For all their bravery, they're not stupid. They won't follow Krayliss to pointless suicide against the armoured cavalry of the north, all for naught but the greater glory of Krayliss himself. They see Krayliss for what he is-a vain, pompous fool, who offers them nothing but rhetoric, poverty and an early grave.
'But that does not mean they will like father's lowlands war any better. And it does not mean they will like having Krayliss removed and a friendly, Verenthane lord appointed by Baen-Tar. Krayliss is a fool, but he is the only Goeren-yai great lord. A people can become desperate, feeling that no one listens to their concerns; that there are none to represent them in the halls of power. If Krayliss gains martyrdom, he could be far more popular in death than he ever managed in life.'
Damon gazed into the fire, considering that. To her left, Sasha saw that Captain Tyrun was considering her with narrowed eyes. Studying her, as if measuring her for something. She found it strangely disconcerting and returned tentative attention to her food. Jaryd said nothing. He seemed little interested in any matter that did not involve tournaments or gossip and offered no opinions.
'Thank you,' Damon said then. 'To both of you.' Looking at Sasha, and then at Tyrun. 'I shall think on this.'
Kessligh stabbed at the fire once more, raising another cloud of swirling sparks. His expression boded nothing good.
The following morning, the column passed a simple marker indicating the border between Valhanan and Taneryn. The morning was an overcast grey, and a cold wind accompanied the cloud moving in from the east. The road crested a new ridge, ever higher than the last, and Sasha gained her first clear view of the Marashyn Ranges, spreading their dark, jagged line across the rumpled horizon from north to northeast.
The land swelled more steeply here than in Valhanan, with great, dramatic thrusts of hillsides, crowned with sharp ridges, and broken with erupting outcrops of dark stone.
The road to Garallyn, the Taneryn capital, was eerily free of travellers. Occasionally at a clearing in the trees there would appear a wooden farmhouse, crossed by fences of wood or stone. But there was no sign of the occupants and all windows and doors remained tightly shut. Returning scouts reported no sign of activity anywhere… until one man came galloping breathlessly along the road and reported the horror that had befallen Perys.
The column made good time then, leaving the road for a horsetrail along an undulating, forested hillside. Sasha rode at Kessligh's rear, heart thumping unpleasantly, in a manner that had little to do with exertion. Perys was the southern-most Taneryn town bordering Hadryn. There were men of Hadryn on the border who had claimed these lands for centuries. And now, it seemed that old dispute had been consumed by something greater.
The horsetrail climbed for some considerable distance, affording the occasional glimpse of valleys and vast hillsides through the trees. Then the ground became level and the trees abruptly ceased, the entire column emerging upon the fringe of traditional Perys farmland. The fields lay wide on an open hillside as the column descended a road that wound between stone paddock walls and small barns. Gates were broken open and livestock roamed free along paths. Smoke rose from the smouldering ruins of several farmhouses.
Sasha stared at the nearest pile of ashen debris and saw hoof marks where brown earth tore through the lush green grass. Horsemen had done this.
Sasha tore her gaze away, allowing Peg an easy rein as she stared downslope. She'd travelled to Taneryn before, but never to Perys, so close to the Hadryn border. It should have been beautiful-the open hillside was vast, divided into lush pasture, dotted with farmsteads and orchard groves, and roamed by livestock. Below, the hillside narrowed to form a long, shoulder ridge with a lovely collection of rustic, wooden buildings-Perys villageoccupying the uphill half of the shoulder. Beyond that ridge lay a steep gorge with forested slopes, rugged and beautiful.
There was smoke rising from the village, black and sinister. It scarred the view, a single, dark smudge toward the west, and Hadryn. Now, as the trail cleared an orchard, a new hillside presented a scene that chilled Sasha's heart.
Scattered across a neighbouring field were motionless shapes on the grass. Many carcasses, their blood staining the grass. Sheep, she realised with relief as the column thundered closer, the forward guard displaying the royal banners and the banner of Tyree for all to see. Suddenly Kessligh was pointing off to the left, where something darted behind one low wall, men across the column pulling swords or readying crossbows upon their saddle horns. And then something else became visible behind the near paddock wall that had Damon raising a gloved fist in the
