The Chronicles: Notomol Ch. 08

The path was not so wide; we had to proceed in single file. Riders had to dismount, and lead their horses, because the overgrowth was a wild as the undergrowth. This was more like an Uplands forest than anything we'd seen since we'd entered Mahuc.

Giedra stayed close to Thuruar. She genuinely liked the guslar, but she meant to keep her promise: if he was leading us into a trap, he would be among the first to die. She'd told him so.

- "We're both quite safe." he promised.

- "What is this place?" I asked.

- "The private hunting grounds of the Ban of Mahuc." said the guslar.

- "And the Ban won't object if we use it as a refuge?"

I saw the flash of Thuruar's teeth as he grinned. "You can ask him yourself."

Lemek, Ban of Mahuc, was a skinny runt, with thin lips and scraggly hair. His most distinguishing feature was a large wart under his right eye, next to his nose.

He welcomed the Duchess as if she were a reigning Queen, rather than merely the mother of the heir. She treated Lemek like the answer to all of her prayers.

He had 16 fighting men with him.

- "That's all?" I said.

Thuruar explained Lemek's unusual history. His father, the Ban, had joined Duke Richwin, but Lemek had been too ill, at the time - and so he'd missed the disastrous Battle of the Gut. The Ban died, as did many of his men. Very few returned to Mahuc.

Three months after the battle, the Izumyrians had occupied all of the steadings in Mahuc. Lemek's brother, Fosach, was contemplating surrender, trying to calculate how he could make an accommodation with the invaders.

Lemek had his brother killed.

His lands were overrun, the majority of his warriors were dead or dispersed, and the Izumyrians had named their own puppet Ban. Two months later, the puppet was gone, stabbed to death by unknown assailants.

The enemy had named one of their own, an Izumyrian Baron, as the new Ban of Mahuc. He was still alive, and said to be in Hvad town. So far, he had not come in person to claim his lands.

Lemek was a sly little weasel, with an ingratiating manner, but I decided to not to let my personal feelings show. It would be better not to offend him.

- "Guenna, is it?" he said, when we finally met. "I'm told that you have considerable... tactical acumen."

I'd never heard the word 'acumen' before. I guessed, from the context, that it meant something like skill. Giedra came to my rescue.

- "We've never lost a fight with Guenna in charge." she said.

- "Is that so?" The little man seemed amused.

Giedra bristled. "Yes. It's so."

Lemek raised a hand. "Easy." he said. "I've heard that you put Count Seaglitz and most of his men in the ground. That's impressive. Obviously, I'd like to see it for myself - but I've heard very good things about you. Both of you."

That was nice to hear. But I still felt as though I needed to wash after talking to the Ban of Mahuc.

***

Finding the Ban changed things quite a bit for us.

Sixteen fighters made a significant addition to our numbers, especially since these were trained warriors, members of the Ban's druzhina. Seva, Tugan and Paksyalta were better archers, but from among the rest of us, only Giedra and two or three others could have stood against them.

These were Hvadi warriors. A handful had escaped from the Battle of the Gut. But they were proud men, and it rankled them to be treated as inferiors by the Izumyrians, or to learn how many Bans and Hospodars had rushed to make their peace and bend the knee to the invaders.

There were more men like this in Mahuc. Lemek assured the Duchess that they would come to join us. Indeed, five more veteran fighters came in over the next two days. Giedra and I were worried about traitors and informers, but these new men seemed well-known to the Ban's warriors.

It significantly changed the composition of our band. Uplanders were now only half of our numbers. And that made quite a big difference in how Prosquetel treated me.

He began conferring with Lemek - without including me in the discussion. Old WhiteHair was also talking to several of Lemek's fighters. The Ban's Hand was a big brute, feared for his strength and his fighting skills - but the man was not a leader.

- "I know." agreed Giedra. "I don't think he can count past ten without taking his shoes off - or dropping his pants."

I spoke to Prosquetel. Giedra came with me, as moral support. WhiteHair was talking to Iduallon and Gerimir, who were sitting side by side on a fallen log.

- "You're shutting me out of the discussion." I said.

Prosquetel responded with his most soothing voice. "No. Absolutely not! I'm merely... consulting with the Ban."

- "And his men. Without including me, or Giedra. You said before we left Nareven that you would take my advice."

- "As I have." said Prosquetel. "As I will continue to do - on tactical matters. These are strategic decisions, Guenna." The old man smiled. "The people won't hear that their Duchess is back if we're cowering in the woods."

- "Cowering?" said Giedra. She was truly angry now. No one had ever accused her of 'cowering'. "You go too far, old man. I might have to beat some sense into you."

- "You wouldn't dare!" shouted Iduallon. As he yelled, he also leapt to his feet and attempted to draw his sword in the same motion. I say 'attempted', because he was only partly successful. He'd been seated next to Gerimir - as his weapon cleared the tip of its scabbard, the edge of the blade sliced away a piece of Gerimir's ear.

There was a lot of blood.

That was the end of our little conference.

***

In the morning, Gerimir came to find me - in the woods. He looked comical, with a torn shirt wrapped around his head.

- "Are you alright?" I asked.

There was that sheepish look on his face, that I'd come to know so well. "It... it still stings a bit. But it's not so bad. Just a nick."

- "Gerimir, that idiot nearly cut your ear off."

He didn't contest my description of Iduallon as an idiot. Instead, he changed the subject.

- "Guenna, Prosquetel and the Duchess are sorry. They didn't mean to suggest that they don't trust you."

I snorted. "Gerimir, you're a terrible liar. They're not sorry at all. What did they tell you to say?"

He hung his head, to hide his blush. He was so easily embarrassed. "They still trust you." he said. "And they'll consider your advice."

- "Consider?"

- "Screw it." said Giedra. "Veran was right about these Niskadi - but he was wrong, too: he should've killed them when he had the chance."

Gerimir's face went pale. "You - you don't mean that."

- "Try me, little man." snarled Giedra. "Leave old WhiteHair unguarded tonight, and we'll see what the morning brings!"

Gerimir retreated in haste.

- "You're no murderer." I said, softly.

- "No." she admitted. "But sometimes I'm sorely tempted. Maybe I could get Eliv to do it."

- "She wouldn't."

- "Ha! That's what you think. Or maybe we could kill the Duchess - that might help to win the war." Giedra was still fuming, but she was no longer homicidal. "Well...?" she said. "Is that it? Do we quit?"

- "We have to talk to the others." I said. "Should we send for Seva and Odma?"

- "Only if you want the Lowlanders to know what we decide a moment later."

- "They were on the Hill with us, Giedra. We have to include them."

All of the Uplanders gathered that night - including Seva and Odma. I laid out the situation as clearly as I could.

- "Giedra and I have been excluded from councils. Prosquetel is getting his advice from the Ban, and seems to feel that he doesn't need our advice anymore."

- "Well..." said Tugan, the archer, "he is a Ban."

Little Berilde rounded on him. "If they disrespect Guenna and Giedra, they're disrespecting all of us. Tugan - this is Guenna we're talking about."

Only half of our Uplander band had experienced the flight from Prospal Hill to the Vale of Nareven - but Berilde had been there. She'd grown from adolescent to young woman as we fought our way clear of Count Seaglitz and his cavalrymen.

For most of those who remembered those days - and those desperate fights - I'd become some kind of symbol. A good luck charm. Even Giedra, who believed that she was destined to be the next Payl, wanted me to plan her battles.

I'm not very strong. Nor am I skilled with a bow. In fact, I'm the worst archer in my family. But while I know my limitations, I'm also aware of my strengths. I knew that I had it - what Lemek called 'tactical acumen'. And until I met someone better, I knew that I should be the one making those decisions.

But I needed my fellow Uplanders, at the very least, to agree with me.

- "So we should leave, because your pride is hurt?" said Seva, with a sneer. "The Lowlanders listen to me."

- "How could they not?" said Eliv. "We all hear you, when you're rutting with Iduallon."

That got a general laugh, which prevented Seva from making a snarky retort.

- "Loot's been good, though." said one man.

- "Aye." said another.

- "I don't like being called a savage, though." said Rion. We'd all heard the word. The Lowlanders said it when they thought we weren't listening - and a few said it to our faces, when they had friends nearby.

I was hoping that Paksyalta might say something. I quite liked her, and was beginning to trust her judgment. I could understand her reluctance: she'd rustled the blanket with one of Lemek's men, just last night.

Neither Seva nor I could criticize her for it - we'd done the same. So had several other women. No one brought it up, though. Paksyalta was well-liked.

It was Berilde's friend, clever little Sarine, who changed our course.

- "Seems like a long way to come, just to turn around again, and go home." she said. "I trust Guenna to keep us out of trouble."

Such a simple little statement. It worked. That was what the group decided.

***

Prosquetel invited Giedra and me to a council, the very next afternoon. Seva had certainly told them what we'd discussed, the night before. But the Lowlanders were ready to include us now because they'd already decided our course of action.

- "We're going to attack at Uda's farm." said Prosquetel. "The Izumyrians have 50 men there." His plan - or whoever's plan - was straightforward enough. Giedra and I would attack from the north (once we'd been led into position by Lowlander guides). Lemek's men would strike from the east a moment later.

There was something slightly off - I sensed it right away. My gut was talking to me. I couldn't call the whole thing off, but I did ask one question.

- "Last time we tried this, they were waiting for us. Just in case, we should have a signal, to call a retreat."

That tit Iduallon rolled his eyes. But Prosquetel smiled indulgently - he could afford to be magnanimous, now that he'd got his way.

- "Fine. May I suggest a battle cry? Let us call out 'Borna!", so that we recognize friend from foe. And if there should need to be a retreat... we'll call out 'Uplands'. Fair enough?" White Hair had the temerity to grin at me, and then to sweep his gaze over Giedra.

- "I have to be the one to kill him." she muttered.

Liesma HorseFace came to find us after the meeting.

- "Can I fight with you?" she asked.

- "Of course you can." I said. "Giedra would love to have you beside her."

We travelled by night, and rested up during the day. I had no quarrel with Lemek's pathfinders: they knew their business. I just couldn't shake that nagging feeling. Were they intending to use us - to sacrifice us just so that they could hit the Izumyrians in the back? That would have been wasteful - and foolish.

It made perfect sense to have us attack first. We needed the advantage of surprise to go toe-to-toe with Izumyrian soldiers. Then why was I so uneasy?

The night was dark enough for our purpose. The Izumyrian camp seemed quiet, too.

That was it.

It was too quiet. No extra torches. No bonfires. They had to know that we were in the area. This was suicidal negligence. Wait - where were the horses? The officer's horses...

- "Giedra - pull them back. It's a trap." Even as I said it, the idea took shape in my mind. "It's a trap! Pass the word. No attack. Uplanders."

I called for Berilde. "Can you find the Lowlanders? Tell them - no horses. It's a trap. Go." I waited a few moments, for the word to spread, and for Berilde to get a head start. Then I told our archers what we were going to do.

- "On the count of three." I said. "One, two... three!"

- "UPLANDERS!" came the cry, from 30 throats.

Seva, Tugan and Paksyalta let fly.

- "Again!" I shouted.

- "UPLANDERS!"

The archers fired again. Then we pulled out, and retreated - back the way we'd come.

***

Prosquetel was furious. The Duchess was incandescent with rage - and she hadn't even been there. The Lowlanders were muttering about Uplander treachery. Most of our crew, though, stuck by me.

- "What were you thinking?" demanded Prosquetel.

I gave my reasons: the lack of precautions on the part of the Izumyrians, the absence of the officers' horses.

- "What does that matter? We would have had them!"

Then, late in the day, one of Lemek's non-combatant scouts came in. There were 150 Izumyrians, only half a league west of Uda's farm.

That put a different complexion on things.

The next day, more scouts came in. There were another 150 Izumyrians half a league south of Uda's farm.

- "It was a trap." breathed Lemek, Ban of Mahuc.

- "The 50 men were sacrificial lambs." I said. "The Izumyrians would happily sacrifice them, if they could trap and eliminate us - and catch the Duchess."

350 Izumyrians, set to trap us. We were lucky - and the Uplanders gave me the credit.

So did Lemek.

- "I shall be keeping an eye on you, young Guenna." he said.

*****