For the next kay, Saryn sensed only small creatures, except for a mother bear hidden away with cubs and a red deer doe. After that, as the road began to rise once more, and the snowdrifts under the tall pines got deeper, she sensed less large life. The hoofprints continued up the gradual incline, but she could see that the slow pace of the riders was slackening even more.
Still, after almost three kays, she felt that she and the other two were only slightly closer to the Gallosians. The light was fading, and she knew the road would climb for another kay before leveling out, then descending into the valley to the northeast. While she had nightsight, the others didn’t. But she felt better knowing that the Gallosians weren’t that close…and that their mounts were tired. She’d also have wagered that the guard mounts were in better shape. She had no doubts that her guards were.
“Hold up. We’ll head back now.”
“Do you think they’ll make the valley tonight?” asked Abylea.
“If they do, they’ll have tired mounts. They probably plan to stay there and rest for a day. That’s unless they come across more helpless travelers.” Saryn turned the gelding.
“Will we attack tomorrow?”
“That depends on what the day brings. We’ll attack when we can be certain of the outcome.” Saryn’s voice hardened with the last words. She didn’t want a single Gallosian returning to Fenard and Arthanos.
In the twilight, the two outriders exchanged glances.
“Let’s go.” Saryn urged the gelding forward, back down the road toward second squad. At least the grade was gradual enough that it wouldn’t be that hard on the horses.
Even so, by the time Saryn returned to the bivouac area, twilight had given way to night across the Westhorns, and a small cookfire was burning. Saryn noted that Murkassa had found dry deadwood so that there was little smoke. Now wrapped in a blanket, Adiara hunched close to the fire.
Saryn rode over to the first tie-line where the mounts were tethered and two guards stood watch. She dismounted, unsaddled, and rubbed down the gelding before walking slowly toward the small fire.
“Any signs of them, ser?” asked Murkassa, standing as the commander approached.
“Not within about four kays.”
“There’s no easy approach to us. I’ve posted sentries where we’ll get plenty of warning.”
“We may need warning, but not from them.” Saryn took a long swallow from her water bottle. “They’re trying to make the crossing valley. They’ll wait there for a day or two. I don’t think they even know we’re following them.”
“No. Women don’t track down armsmen. You’d think they’d know better after ten years,” said Murkassa.
“Why would they? We’ve protected travelers and routed anyone who came at us, but we haven’t actually tracked and attacked anyone.”
“Wouldn’t they think we might when they started to send squads to terrify travelers?”
“No,” Saryn replied. “Women in Gallos wouldn’t even consider that. They have the idea that we’re like the females of most species-females will protect their own and their cubs, but they won’t go that far from their territory to chase a marauder.” She smiled. “We’re about to change their ideas.”
At that moment, Adiara turned and looked up from the fire, her eyes wide.
Saryn could sense the mixture of feelings within the girl-sadness, anger at the death of her mother, exhaustion, but most of all, something like awe, as if she had seen a glimpse of something she had never seen before.
XI
Fiveday dawned bright, with frost across everything, and a rime of ice on the still waters at the edge of the stream. The thin layer of slushy snow in the shade had a crunchy crust of ice on it that would soften by midmorning. All that was usual for spring on the Roof of the World, and morning duties were quickly completed, so that Saryn and second squad were riding eastward long before the sun cleared the taller peaks.
As they started up the gradual incline in the road that Saryn had scouted the night before, she turned in the saddle toward Murkassa, riding to her right. “You’ve got five bows. How many are good with them?”
“All, ser. I’ve trained everyone, but the five who carry them are as good as anyone in the guards. All of them can put the shafts through plate, sometimes at a full gallop. Zanlya can hit a moving target the size of a pearapple at fifty yards, sometimes close to a hundred.”
Westwind shafts, thought Saryn, with arrowheads forged by Nylan before he left. Those arrowheads were the ones that the guards spent glasses searching for after they’d used them against brigands…or poachers. That was something on which both Ryba and Saryn agreed. The replacement arrowheads forged by Daryn, Huldran, and Ydrall were good…but not so good as those done by Nylan. Everyone knew it, and no one ever said so.
Sometimes, the guards sang the song Ayrlyn had written about Nylan, but never when Ryba was around. Saryn smiled briefly as she recalled the engineer’s embarrassment at the opening lines: Oh, Nylan was a smith, and a mighty mage was he…She also wondered if the former comm officer had composed the song just to assure Nylan’s legacy.
“How long will we be riding, Angel?” asked Adiara.
“All day,” replied Saryn. “You’ll have to ride with some of the others soon.”
The girl nodded solemnly.
A glass or so later, Saryn turned the girl over to Raena, one of the junior guards, and joined the outriders. That way, she could sense any dangers as soon as possible.
For a time, Saryn and the two outriders rode silently along the high stretch of road between the evergreens and shaded snowdrifts. The air was chill enough that the only scent was the faintest hint of pine and spruce.
“Do you think they’ll have attacked more travelers?” Abylea finally asked.
“I hope not. It’s early in the year for travelers, except for traders, and I don’t think they’d want to attack traders.” Saryn shrugged. “They might not be that smart, though. If the traders start avoiding Fenard especially, that won’t make the Prefect happy.”
“But he’s the one who had to have ordered the armsmen-”
“We don’t know that, not yet. Besides, rulers don’t always understand what happens as a result of what they order. They just think they do.” Saryn couldn’t help but think about the UFA marshals who had ordered the Winterlance into a battle that ended up throwing the ship into another universe. There were always unintended consequences…even for those like Ryba, who could glimpse a corner of the future. Unlike the senior UFA officers, or the traders of Suthya, Ryba understood that.
By midmorning, Saryn and the outriders were leading second squad down the long and winding slope into the crossroads valley.
“There’s a thin plume of smoke,” reported Chyanci. “Over there, back by the knoll on the southwest side. That’s the high ground.”
“The only tracks on the road are theirs,” said Abylea.
“The only recent ones,” corrected Chyanci.
“Hold up here. They can’t see us,” said Saryn. Just as important was the fact that she couldn’t sense any of the Gallosians. “I need to talk to the squad leader.”
Saryn turned the big chestnut back uphill. As the commander neared the squad, Murkassa ordered a halt and rode to meet Saryn. “You’ve found them? How far ahead are they?”
“Another two or three kays. It looks like they’re in the crossroads valley, on that knoll to the south of the roads, by the stream where most travelers camp. There aren’t any other recent tracks on the road. We can ride down the road for another kay or so, but then we’ll have to move into the trees and move southwest to the base of the knoll. First, we’ll see where the sentries are. I’d like to take them out with the bows, without alerting the others. Then, half the squad will proceed up alongside the trail from the road to the knoll but hold short of where they’re camped, far enough back so that the others aren’t alerted.