"Yes, Verkan. Before you disappeared and no one could find you, I might have put up with that. Not anymore. I think it's time we started a real family, one of our own. Like Kalvan and Rylla have."
"I won't be gone long-just a couple of months. Furthermore, I don't want any more talk of children until things settle down here on Home Time Line."
"How's that going to happen, Verkan, with you jaunting away every time the heat turns up in the Executive Building? There will always be some new crisis to spirit you away. I'm taking a stand here and now. You leave and it will prove our enemies are right-that you are in dereliction of your duty as Paratime Chief! If you leave me here to face this crisis by myself, I won't be here when you get back."Dalla stamped her foot angrily.
"Are you giving me an ultimatum? Is that what this is?"
"That's exactly what this is. Make your choice and live with the consequences."
Verkan felt emotionally adrift. He'd lost Dalla once, when they were both younger and more foolish. He didn't want to go down that lonesome path again.
"How about a compromise?"
"What?" she asked.
"I won't leave for Thagnor, or wherever Kalvan is, until next spring. However, I do want to make a short trip or two to Greffa-to visit Kostran and Zinganna. No real danger there-the Upper Middle Kingdoms are at peace."
"Maybe, but I don't want you haring off to Ulthor or wherever Kalvan is? Do you promise?"
"I promise," he said, wondering even as he made it if he would be capable of keeping his word. His friends were in trouble now, and things were only going to get worse once the Grand Host got off its duff. Maybe he'd learn something in Greffa City that would set his mind to rest-the Europo-American proverb of "whistling in the dark" immediately came to mind.
Now, who was the best man to put in charge of the new Hostigos reconnaissance group?
TWO
Captain-General Hestophes, commander of the Army of Observation, the rear guard of the fleeing Hostigi Royal Army, waited anxiously for his chief scout to return. Old Hectides was their best wolf hunter, but this time he was hunting the two-legged variety. Having lived off the land as a hunter and trapper in this part of Nyklos for most of his youth, Hectides knew the Nyklos Trail and all its crossings like a priestess at the Oracle of Lytris knew the lines in the palm of her hand. The big question was: Were Hectides and his hunters good enough to fool the Ruthani oath-brothers of the Zarthani Knights?
The trap was set; all that was needed was the Styphoni to fall into it. The Conestoga wagon-as Kalvan called them-was caught mid-stream in a wide ford in the middle of the creek. Eight women and several young girls, in their dresses and petticoats, were pretending to push the wagon upright and help the horses drag it out of the pool. Or at least that was how the stage was set. There were two companies of the Mounted Rifles, with loaded muzzle-loading rifles, hiding crouched across the pool fed by the small stream. Hestophes had sixteen four- and six-pounder guns hiding behind some trees and a thousand double-armed soldiers with muskets and pikes to hold off the cavalry. Another two thousand Agrysi cavalry, led by Duke Mnestros of Eubros were right behind, while two thousand more horse were in reserve in a nearby pasture.
General Baldour, a tall lanky figure with a rust-streaked gray beard, nudged his horse closer so that he could talk without being overheard by the rank-and-file. "We've been shadowing these Styphoni buggers for days, Captain-General. What makes you think they're going to fall for this ruse?
Hestophes' horse, Sharp Hooves, whinnied. He patted the big stallion affectionately on the neck before speaking. "We've led the Styphoni on a merry chase for three days now, after we let their scouts spot our column. From what General Klestreus has told us, their commander, Captain-General Anaphon, is a glory hound. He's got roughly four to five thousand cavalry under his command. Up until now, he's had to sit behind the shadow of Grand Captain-General Phidestros for the entire campaign. This is the Harphaxi Captain-General's opportunity to prove to his Great King that he's worthy of his spurs. On top of that, we've been running him all over the countryside for a moon quarter. Coming to a clash of arms with the Hostigi rear guard is too big a temptation for him to avoid."
"I can accept Klestreus' character assessment, but what I don't like is leaving these women and little girls out in the open where they can be taken, like bait on a hook!"
"Those girls are Pioneers from the Hostigos Royal Military Academy and as such, part of the Royal Army," Hestophes said, his voice rising. "And you'd better not let Queen Rylla hear you talking like that, or she'll perform an orchidectomy on you with a rusty poignard!"
Baldour looked away, cursing under his breath. Like many others in Hos-Hostigos he didn't welcome or agree with all of the Great King and Queen's military innovations. He wasn't a stupid man, just hidebound to the old ways. He was also from the Middle Kingdoms, which would put him in a more crucial role, now that the Hostigi were moving their base of operations into Baldour's former homeland. Another winter of fighting with Great King Kalvan would season him.
"Remember, what Queen Rylla said: 'the Queens Irregulars are all volunteers; most of them lost their men at the Battle of Ardros Field and their children and kin to Roxthar's Investigation. The Great Queen herself has seen to their training and none who are weak of spirit have survived her boot camp-as Kalvan calls it."
Baldour honked his nose and spat a chunk of tobacco that made a splat on the forest floor. "It's time we let those Harphaxi whoresons taste some Hostigi steel!"
Old Hectides and a trio of his scouts broke out of the trees and over the brow and into the creek, their horses blown and lathered. Hectides rode up to him and wheeled, so they could talk. "Styphon's reprobates are coming," he wheezed. "The whole Harphaxi detachment is on the march. Those Dralm-damned oath-brothers ride like the mucking wind!"
A few breaths later, a dozen Harphaxi scouts, wearing buckskins and Harphaxi yellow and red color bandannas wrapped around their upper arms, rode into the clearing on the other side of the stream. A few of the oath-brothers, dressed in buckskin shirts and breechcloths with long leggings, stayed behind with the horses, while the others peeled off their shirts and jumped into the partially dammed stream. Soon they were grappling with the Pioneers, who were wrestling with their supposed rescuers, and attempting to push them away.
This is where it gets tricky, thought Hestophes. We have to wait until the main body arrives before we "announce" ourselves. If any of the women get hurt or raped, that's going to be a huge problem. We're over-stocked with heroes who want to emulate their late Prince or former Captain-General Harmakros!
The women were screaming now, making Hadron's own racket. Hestophes could hear the men rustling and gave orders that the first man to fire would be shot dead in his boots by his own petty-captain. "This is an ambush-these women are Pioneers, not a bunch of picnickers out for a stroll."
Suddenly the scene turned ugly; two of the Pioneers were dragged out of the creek and thrown down to the bank. One of the scouts got a crotch full of moccasin when he tried to wrestle one woman to the ground. The other Pioneer slipped out a knife and a bright red flower blossomed on the belly of her would-be assailant. One of the oath-brothers took out a long horse pistol and was aiming it at the Pioneer with the knife, when a shot rang out from the wagon. He fell down in a heap, and the other scouts started to get suspicious, looking around in all directions while pulling out knives and pistols.
Hestophes saw two coonskin-capped scouts and one with a badger's head over his conical helmet start toward the woman with the knife. Without conscious thought, he kicked his horse in the flanks and suddenly found himself halfway across the stream. One of the scouts aimed a pistol in his direction and he heard a wheeeet as a bullet spanged off his steel breastplate. His right ribs felt numb beneath the cotton gambeson he wore under his armor, but he'd survived worse in the past.