Herzer chuckled and butted her with his head. “And were you… pleased?”
“Ecstatic,” she replied. “But love is what it’s all about. Do you love the ‘Kingdom of Free States’?”
“Well…”
“Okay, do you love Raven’s Mill?”
He thought about that for a while. A group of strangers, survivors of disaster, thrown together in the wilderness. But…
“Yes,” he said and then understood.
“So you could run away,” she said. “It’s possible that tomorrow you will die. But you do not. You stay. For your comrades, for your town, for your honor. This is love.”
“If I desert, the penalty is death,” Herzer pointed out.
“Does that bother you?” Bast chuckled. “Really?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Love is what has driven soldiers into wars throughout the centuries. There are times when fear overcomes it, and then they have to be prodded into battle. And there are conscript armies driven forth by fear or for having nothing better in their lives. And there are those who simply like the killing; McCanoc is one such. But they make poor soldiers. It is the ones who love something, who go clear eyed into battle for it, who are the fiercest killers. Sometimes they have loved the wrong things. Jihads and pogroms and Holocausts. Hate mixed in with love. But to bring a soldier to the place of battle mostly requires a love of something. They may love something greater than themselves, but they must love. The greatest warriors are the greatest lovers. And I saw in you greatness.”
“Thank you,” he said, quietly.
“Now, no more talk,” she whispered in his ear. “Let us do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Herzer was just getting out of his blankets in the predawn cold when Bast came striding back into the camp, obviously straight from a bath in the river; her hair was just starting to dry and her nipples were standing out so hard they were dimpling the leather of her halter-top.
“How come you were complaining about cold when you run around in a bikini all the time?” he asked, grumpily. He was sore in some very odd places; Bast had a grip like a vise and she sometimes forgot her own strength.
“I’m more or less immune to heat and cold,” she admitted with a grin. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“So why do you run around in a bikini instead of something warmer?” he asked, perplexed.
“Do you know how many men I’ve killed who froze looking at my tits?” she asked, laughing merrily.
“Breakfast is on,” Cruz said, walking past. “Bacon and eggs! New bread from town!”
“Sounds good,” Herzer said, putting on his armor and checking that his sword was loose in its sheath. Their helmets were stacked on their crossed pilums and for the time being his could stay there.
Bast walked with him to the chow line and got only bread, then looked over at Edmund in the torchlight. “They’re still where they stopped last night, about a kilometer and a half south,” she said. “They weren’t stirring yet when I left.”
“Good,” Edmund said, getting a full plate. “Thank you for checking.”
“I thought someone should,” she replied.
“There’s a team of cavalry down the road,” Edmund said.
“I know, I saw them as well,” Bast chuckled, taking a bite of the bread and looking up at the stars in the clear sky. “It’s a good day for battle. It will start cool but then get quite warm.”
“You’ll take a place with the archers?” Talbot asked, leading the group over to a large stump.
“Oh, yes, not for me the armored clash,” she smiled. “I’ll fill them so full they won’t realize they’re dead. I dislike these Changed intensely.”
“I doubt it was their choice,” Herzer said, sitting on the ground.
“No, but I still don’t like them,” she said fiercely. “They have slaves in the pack trains. You must rescue them, Edmund.”
“First we have to win,” Edmund pointed out. “We’re sort of outnumbered.”
“I’ll take my quota,” Bast said with a shrug. “Methinks I’ll go find a good spot.” With that she walked off into the darkness, whistling and occasionally spinning in place in dance.
“I’m glad she’s so happy,” Herzer said.
“She’s like that,” Edmund shrugged. “Battle is what she was bred for and she’s just about as good at it as any elf I’ve ever met.”
“We might have to retreat,” Herzer said, looking at the defenses. “I hope not.”
“I’ve got that covered,” Edmund replied. “The militia is going to get to work today on fall-back positions for the archers. I’ve had extra pilums brought up as well and stashes placed along the way.” He looked up at the sky and nodded. “Get your troops into position and down. It’s getting on for dawn.”
For much of the rest of the morning, Herzer and the Blood Lords remained crouched in the parapets. As Bast had predicted the morning cool had quickly been dispelled by the rising sun and by the time the mutters of the militia indicated that the enemy was in sight it was nearly noon and rising to a summer heat. He could see from his position the three horse scouts climb up the trail and then down, but he was out of sight of the enemy and vice versa.
Edmund walked over to his position and, without looking down, shielded his eyes and frowned. “What a gaggle.”
“How’s it look?” Herzer asked.
“They’re all in a group. I think he’s learning the term ‘defeat in detail,’ which means he’ll try to rush us with the whole force. Ah, here he comes.”
“As you can see, I’m waving a parley flag,” McCanoc’s ironic voice drifted up from beyond the low wall.
“I doubt you’d honor it in return,” Edmund called. “But that’s the difference between us. Are you surrendering this time? Tell you what, I’ll guarantee that you are permitted to live and I’ll even throw in not having you tortured every day for the rest of your miserable existence. All you have to do is disarm your force and have it stand down to be taken prisoner.”
“You’re so funny, Edmund Talbot!” McCanoc called. “I’ll counter your offer. Send us out a shipment of tribute and we’ll go back the way we came. Say, two tons of wheat and the same of corn and all the jewelry and other geegaws of the town.”
“And you’d leave us alone from hence forward?” Edmund asked as if he was considering it.
“Well, not exactly,” McCanoc replied. “Say, a quarterly payment. Oh, and we’d need some young ladies as well. Where you get them is up to you; remember you could always raid the other towns in your area for the tribute.”
“Yes, very good point,” Edmund said. “We could be senselessly destructive bastards just like you. But I think not. Last chance; surrender and I’ll let you live. Your… men we’ll have to consider.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Dionys replied, venom in his voice. “Let me tell you what I’m going to do. First, I’m going to wipe out this pitiful militia. Your stupid Blood Lords and archers are still marching over here, aren’t they? So all you have is this rabble militia, a bunch of has-been reenactors who can’t handle reality so they hide in fantasy. Much good they’ll do you against my army. And when they are gone, Edmund Talbot, I’m going to capture you. And the last thing that you’ll see, before I have your eyes burned out, is me raping your daughter, the first of a long line of my men.