Sasha

Eighteen

Cryliss, capital of Valhanan, was a mess. Rumours had spread in advance of a great, bloodthirsty Goeren-yai force advancing from Baen-Tar. With Great Lord Kumaryn and his fellow nobles mostly away at Rathynal, the remaining Cruliss nobility had panicked. Some had gathered belongings and fled for the hills, while others had attacked the few Goeren-yai who lived on the city outskirts.

Some cityfolk came out to greet the army as it marched into the city, followed by perhaps a hundred honourable Verenthanes who made a line across the main road, prepared to lay down their lives if the army did not have honourable intentions. A short talk with Captain Tyrun and several of the column's other Verenthanes convinced them to disperse, and even to organise supplies and spread word that the rumours of rape and pillage were lies.

At the Yethl River running through the city's heart, the column paused for a drink and some food. The toll amongst the Cryliss Goeren-yai was not as bad as first feared-four confirmed dead, but plenty of friendly Verenthanes had protected the others. The names of the murderers had been taken, some said coldly, and an officer of the king would be sought for justice.

It was not long before Andreyis arrived, insisting that there were some people Sasha should meet. He led the way along the riverbank, past more soldiers and horses than Sasha had ever seen in her life. Hooves churned the green grass as group after group led their animals to drink. She could barely see more than ten strides in any direction past the press of animal bodies and the forest of legs, but Andreyis seemed to know where to go. Sasha found herself watching the horses as she went, judging their character with a practised eye… perhaps half were lowland breeds and the other half either dussieh or part-dussieh.

The character of the column had changed. Now, instead of being predominantly line company troops, they were an army of many townsmen and villagers. Formidable warriors all, their skills forged in the many training halls of Lenayin. As cavalry, they were less impressive-a horse was a great expense and few could own one. Amongst those who did own horses, dedicated cavalry training was of uneven standard.

Andreyis found the Baerlyn contingent further from the river, their horses feeding from one of the hay piles some Cryliss Goeren-yai farmers had deposited across the fields. Jaegar was there, in laughing conversation with several men from another village, and looking the happiest Sasha had seen him in years. He hugged her tight enough to give her fear for her ribs, much to the awe of the other men. Then she clasped forearms with Byorn of the training hall, and his friend Madyn, and cheerful Illys the wood craftsman who played a mean reed pipe… and then others were coming, and she realised that there were far more men in the Baerlyn contingent than she'd have expected.

A familiar whinny caught her attention, and she looked at the horses to see a very familiar, white-starred face looking her way. 'Chersey!' she exclaimed, and ran to the mare, who greeted her with a friendly nuzzle. Another shoved past Chersey with a loud, friendly greeting… 'Ussey!' She hugged the young gelding about the neck and, looking wildly about, realised that all her horses were here. The stables of the ranch had been emptied.

Of course they'd emptied the stables, the more horses available, the more men who could join the column. But her horses were a part of her memories of home, happy, safe and comforting…

'Don't worry, girl,' Jaegar said with a gruff grin, as Chersey nudged her in the stomach and Ussey blew in her face, 'we'll look after your blasted horses.'

Sasha gave him a helpless, protesting look… it was shameful-she should have been more worried for the lives of her Baerlyn friends. And she was, dreadfully so… and yet, this was different. From the look on Jaegar's face, however, she knew that he understood.

There came a cry from her left, then, and she was only half surprised when a slim tangle of red-haired curls came sprinting her way and threw herself into Sasha's embrace. Sasha gave the men an exasperated look over Lynette's head, and many of them found interest in things elsewhere, or scratched their heads, looking uncomfortable.

'What were we going to tell her?' Byorn protested. 'You left her in charge of the horses, and her father's the only one who can control her anyhow…'

'Oh, they're all so pathetic on horses, Sasha!' Lynette shot back, disentangling herself. Her pale, freckled face was strong with determination. 'And Ussey here gets nervous in crowds and needs to have a friend in sight, and Dass has a sore hoof that needs watching on a long trip, and none of this lot knows what to do because they've little enough experience riding anyhow…'

'She's been good,' Jaegar admitted, ruffling Lynette's hair. 'Bossy, but useful. She's been riding up and down our little column, talking with each man, telling them each horse's personality, how to ride them, then how to groom and care for them properly on each break. They're not such complete novices on horses,' with a wry glance at Lynette, 'those men like me who own them have shared plenty of times of drill and practice. But the deal was she'd come as far as Cryliss. And no further.'

Lynette gave Sasha a desperate look. 'Sasha, you'll need someone to look after the other horses too… I'm good at that, I could help!'

'I'm sorry, Lynie,' said Sasha, shaking her head. 'No.'

'But why not?'

'You're not a soldier. You can't fight. If this were a foot campaign, then maybe, but there's no safe rear for non-combatants in a mounted campaign. The fighting could come from anywhere, you could be in it, and I can't spare anyone to protect you. I don't doubt you would be useful, but no.'

'But Princess Sofy's going!' Lynette protested. 'She can't fight either!'

Sasha stared at the men, who again looked uncomfortable. How had that news spread ahead of the column so fast? Perhaps it hadn't, she realised. Perhaps it had spread just now, shortly after arriving in Cryliss.

'And I'd drop Sofy in Cryliss if I could,' Sasha said sternly. 'But having ridden with us this far, she's now a target. I don't wish to insult Cryliss Verenthanes, I'm sure most of them are honourable, but I've no telling which are which on such short notice, and I can't be sure she'd be safe here. She stays with us because I deem it safer, but already she costs us several good men to watch over her. I can't spare several more to defend you, and if left alone, you can't defend yourself. Absolutely not.'

'I wish I'd learned svaalverd,' Lynette muttered, looking at the ground. 'Then I could have come.'

'Maybe one day the Nasi-Keth will spread from Petrodor,' Sasha suggested. Lynette blinked at her. 'Then you could have an uman like me, if you wish. There's no limit on age.'

'One day,' Lynette agreed, wistfully.

Sasha smiled at her. 'But not today.'

Two days north from Cryliss, the Shudyn Divide marked the beginning of the Aralya Range that separated much of the populated north from the rest of Lenayin. The Shudyn Divide was a ragged, uneven, rocky mountain- face with many ridgeline ascents that looked both promising and treacherous in turn. The column now numbered nearly four and a half thousand, as a large group of Taneryn militia and most of the Taneryn Red Swords company had arrived the previous evening, with promises of more to come. If the column had been strungout before, it would now become much more so, toiling up the mountain rise.

By mid-morning, the ride had indeed become a hard slog, riders dismounting in places to walk their struggling animals up a particularly steep or loose stretch. The road became little more than a narrow, rocky horsetrail, flanked increasingly by sheer drops that revealed a magnificent yet alarming view. Many times during the climb, Sasha turned in her saddle to look back down and marvel at the endless line of men and horses, nose-to-tail in her wake. By midday the column head had cleared the worst of the sheer cliffs and, while the trail remained steep, they were enfolded once more by pine trees. But then, within the space of a thousand strides, the weather changed.

At first it rained, then it blew hard and strong, bending the trees and snapping no few within range. Soft earth turned to slippery mud and riders tried to hold their mounts to grass or loose gravel; Sasha heard many curses and calls of warning or alarm from further down the slope. Then the mist closed in, enfolding the column until it was difficult to see more than five or six horses in any direction. They stopped for a lunchtime rest, men feeding hay or oats they had brought with them from Cryliss to horses who had little grazing room upon the narrow, precarious trailside. Water at least remained no problem, as the trail crossed small runoff streams frequently.

Shortly after lunch, the trail became level and wound its way along one side of a rift known as Galryd's Pass,