Book 4, Chapter 32: Riding Out

Brundle and Rand led the army procession out of the castle and through the town. Regular cavalry first, Maitlan’s next, Morry’s Companion Cavalry, Gun’s infantry, then archers and crossbowmen, skirmishers and peltasts. Rhinos taking up the rear, handlers guiding them and their attackers walking. The soldiers rode formally through the village. Lances up, sarissa up, infantry marching with knees high.

I rode alongside Morry. A flag bearer in front of us. Turns out I have a standard. Probably, getting to know it would be a good idea. It was an intricate golden sword over a fancy blue shield on a background of red. Pretty generic, and probably too detailed, too busy. I made a mental note to reconfigure it in a less-is-more kind of way. Perhaps blue and red stripes and a bunch of stars. I guess I’d only get the one star right now, though, and it would be super sad sitting there all alone. Or something more original, like a depiction of a black hole. That’s an image never seen on a flag before. Plus, thousands of years from now, it’d be featured on the history channel as proof aliens had visited the planet.

And, in this case, it would be true.

Nobles and their families, children running around, waved at us as we passed. We quickly left them behind, entered the village, where people again lined the road to watch. Few of the adults here waved, but many children did. Girls, especially, brought a smile to my face with their waving and pointing, some jumping up and down to get my attention. I returned these in kind, except for the jumping.

Turning to Morry, I asked, “Hey, shouldn’t we march the horses or something?”

“March the horses?”

“You know, to give them a show. The villagers.”

“We’re already marching an army and giving them a show.”

“I mean like, when the horses raise their legs and walk in a, uh, distinguished manner.”

“Horses don’t march.”

“Prance? Is that what it’s called?”

“You mean the fancy trotting in dressage.”

“Yes! That. Shouldn’t we do that for the people?”

“Princess, it’s very tiring for the horses. Perhaps they could do so for under a minute. Since we’re wearing armor and carrying supplies on these horses,” he patted his horse’s neck, “it’s a terrible idea.”

I deflated a bit. “Oh. Yeah, ok, that makes sense.”

“Nobles used to trot like that when you were a little girl. Probably once around the courtyard and done, just to make you smile.”

“Sure. Yeah. Just like that.” I couldn’t really tell him it was something I’d read about in some work of fantasy somewhere, but what would a person who’d never seen horses know? I guess that writer got it wrong. Nice story, though.

“You needn’t worry. This new armor is fancy all by itself and they’ve never seen it before. I’m sure they’re quite pleased with the display.”

“I am. I’m quite pleased with the display.” With no internet, video or music to instantly access, watching us march by was the most interesting activity around. They got to hang out with all their friends, gossip or discuss whatever it is peasants discuss, look at the soldiers riding off to commit atrocities to others.

Their tax dollars at work.

Well, I said to myself, the other guys deserve the coming atrocities. Mainly since they won’t leave me alone in safety, but also because they’ve committed plenty of their own.

***

The pace seemed about the same speed as the lumbering wagons from the last trip. Only, we didn’t have to clear roads and we could travel where wagons couldn’t. Or so they kept telling me. We didn’t have wagons, but we had rhinos and they were heavy. And having no problems keeping up.

“Are you sure those fields are wet? They don’t look wet.” They looked green to me, though I was a fair bit up from them, along a hilltop path. In the valley below, the new and light green of spring that is somehow sunny and happy, popping up all over the place. I breathed in deeply, the new grass and fresh air a delight compared to the smokey, sweaty atmosphere of the castle.

“They’re wet,” Morry said. “You just can’t see it from here. The ground is holding all the moisture from the spring melt. Ride down and see for yourself.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll stay up here. Take your word for it.”

Morry gave me a sidelong glance.

We rode in silence for a while until I realized something awful, “Hey. If it’s dry up here, this is where those horrible, large spiders would set up their traps. Yeah?”

“That’s correct. They’ll be watching for signs at the front of the train.”

“I hope we don’t run into any.”

“They’re good eating.”

“Yeah.” But, gross. Spider! And last time we lost a soldier to the spider. So, it was like trading a man’s life for a meal. Sure, the meal tasted like lobster, but he probably didn’t think that was a good deal. ‘This heavenly meal brought to you by Fred’s life. Thanks, Fred! It’s pretty tasty.’

“We may not run into any. They may still be sleeping in their dens.”

“May?”

“And their babies will be hatching soon.”

“Babies? They really have babies? I thought Brin was teasing me about that.” My back itched a little, but it certainly didn’t itch because of the spider eggs injected just under my skin there. No, nope! That was not the source of my itchiness!

“Yes, they-”

“Please don’t tell me they live in dresses.”

“They don’t live in dresses.”

“Oh, thank God. Do they hunt in swarms until they’re older?”

“Swarms? No, Princess. They quickly disperse, hunting prey their own size.”

“What, like ducks? How big are these . . . babies? I really think we should call them ‘offspring’ or ‘spawn.’ Babies just sounds wrong.”

Morry’s grim face became slightly mirthful, his mouth breaking into the smallest of smiles. “The offspring,” he nodded to me, “move into the canopy at first. Trapping squirrels and birds I’d imagine. Occasionally, a farmer will find one in his henhouse.”

I couldn’t help but imagine the huge and hairy legs moving across someone’s lawn, heading toward the chicken coop one leg at a time, carefully tapping the ground, testing it like spiders do, before planting that leg and moving the next one up. I shuddered. “That is horrifying. Are they dangerous at that size?”

“Oh yes. Their venom dissolves tissue. An adult can typically survive, perhaps lose a limb, but not children. Or pets. If your dogs start going missing, you probably have a spider somewhere.”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Strangler trees? Worm thistle? You want to talk about those now?”

I gave him a glare, then tried to forget our conversation and return to enjoying the spring air and the views of the valley and line of mountains beyond.

***

Orange flames across the wood in the little campfire we made, shifting like waves as the cool breeze blew it. Plasma. I knew that much. The heat broke the molecular bonds of the wood, giving up their energy in the process, recombining with oxygen in a pretty, engrossing display that stole my gaze.

The fire cracked, a host of sparks rising into the night, as Morry tossed a couple more logs on. “You’re really staring into that fire, Princess.”

“Yeah.”

Gun, sitting next to me, asked, “What do you see in the flames?”

“It’s just pretty.”

“Perhaps some fire sprites?”

“Huh? No portents or anything. I’m just enjoying being outside, under the stars, the campfire going. Wait,” I tore my gaze away from the red coals and blackened, burning wood, “did you say fire sprites?”

“Yes, for when you’re staring into the fire.”

“Like, there are such things as fire sprites? What do they do?”

Morry sat down on my other side, “It’s a saying. Something to ask people around the campfire.”

“An idiom?” Yeah, I guess that made sense. Magic, monsters, it followed you’d have regular idioms about magical creatures.

“Just that.”

“An ale, Your Highness.” Gun passed me a mug.

Our hands touched as I took it. I quickly looked up and into his open blue eyes, wide pupils, holding me fast for a second. “Thank, thank you.” I sipped, forcing my gaze over to Brundle, sitting opposite me, watching Gun with narrow eyes, furrowed brows, Rand beside him. “Did we make good time today?”

“Yes. For leaving late morning, we made it pretty far. Having no wagons is certainly helping. But the cattle drivers may take some time.”

“Cattle?”

“Food on the hoof. No other way to do it without wagons. Too many soldiers to feed by hunting alone. Tread outlined how many we have in our last meeting.”

“Ah. Yeah. That makes sense.” Whoops, should not have let my thoughts wander when the boy started listing off his preparations. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for the nitty gritty of ruling.

Rand suddenly started coughing, waving his hands in front of his face, and stood. “Damn smoke. We need to put drier wood on there!” He moved over to the other side of Brundle, sat down.

“Keeps the mosquitoes away,” said Morry.

Gun leaned back on his hands, not looking over at the big man, “Too early for mosquitoes yet. This is a good time to march an army. The days are still cool, few bugs to bother with. A good time.” Shifting to his left, he reached for his cup, took a long drink.

Shit, I thought to myself. The last thing I needed was Gun hitting on me in front of Morry. No, no, the last, last thing I needed was me freezing up when he was hitting on me. I’d get my own mugs from now on.

“Yes, enjoy the fire while we can,” said Brundle. “The closer we get to Castle Barclay, well, when we get a day or so out, we’ll be using dry rations instead. To avoid declaring our presence.”

“Won’t the mages keep us covered?” I asked.

“They’ll try, but I’ve seen them make mistakes before. A long line of fires would definitely tell Barclay an army is coming.”

“Damnit!” Rand coughed again and again waved his arms in front of his face, “It always follows me around!”

“It’s not really following you,” I said without thinking. “It’s just that when you sit, you stop the air flow into the fire and sort of act like a windbreak and therefore a vacuum, so the smoke gets pulled toward you. And when you abruptly stand, the motion draws more air toward you, the smoke follows.”

Rand was coughing and stepped away from the fire, waving his hands at the air as if he could push away the smoke, Brundle cocked his head at me, the smoke wafting between us then, and Gun asked, “What? I’m sorry, my lady, what was that?”

I pulled the mug up to cover my mouth and Morry answered, “Sprites. She’s talking about fire sprites.” He barked out a laugh, took a drink, then said, “Looks like they have a thing for Rand!”

“That they do!” Rand shouted, then coughed or maybe laughed, from beyond Brundle. He’d grabbed another ale jug, poured himself a mug, taking long draughts in between pouring more. “Ever since I was a kid. I swear, the smoke always follows me around.”

I took a turn with the local idioms and said, “Maybe there’re smoke sprites chasing you about.”

Rand coughed out a laugh.

“While you’re there,” Morry called over to him, “why don’t you get some of the meat out and we’ll start cooking. The coals look about ready. Ah, I’ll come help.” The big man stood, made his way over to where Rand was, they both started digging through the packs they’d laid out.

All our goods were being carried by horses, mules, and donkeys. The animals needed their rest, so were unloaded every night. This was my first night out, I’d just learned this. It made sense. Ale, mead, and wine jugs, just a bit of water, which surprised me, I thought there’d be more, but was told we’d get it from streams along the way. Fresh meat packed for today, more if we sent hunting teams out and, well, the cows I was just told about. Dry rations the rest of the way in terms of meat, bread, hardened cheese, dried fruits, though we also had various grains that could be boiled into porridge and whatnot.

Many of them, I’m sure, were hoping for giant spiders. But nobody was volunteering to be the first to find them. The chicken neck in the lobster cage.

“Princess,” Gun leaned over on his right arm, facing me, “how did your hunt for a suitor go? Were you able to find an appropriate match?”

I stared into my cup, “Uh, no. Not even not really, just no. I think, Gun, I won’t be, uh, courting suitors again. At least, until after I’ve retaken the kingdom.”

“Ah, a sound decision for you, but a terrible tragedy for . . . others.” He placed his hand on mine, patting at first as if to comfort me, but then let it settle.

A stranger among these people, an outsider, a girl among so many men. And their princess. His princess. And I needed him to stop. I pulled my hand away, saying, “Major, let’s not discuss this again for the duration of the campaign.”

“Cayce, I-”

“No,” I cut him off and forced myself to look at him, “I am your princess. You are my major, my knight. Until I give you leave otherwise . . .” I stood because, annoyingly, I couldn’t think of the right words to say.

Gun sat up straight, nodded his head, “My lady.”

I took the cup and walked off a bit, staring off into the darkness. Little by little, the stars revealed themselves, tiny dots of light. How many pixels allotted to each? Did they exist now only because I drew my perception to them? Except, yeah, I’d given up on the game scenario. No pixels above us, just open sky. Probably.

A long time ago, at least for me, from a little before my time, a philosopher who was musing on whether reality itself was a simulation said, ‘If it is a simulation, be interesting. Original, creative. Because computer programs allocate less resources to boring life, mundane tasks. If you want more processing power, be interesting.’

If that was the case, then I must be taking up all the processing power. A princess! All eyes on me.

I took a sip. No, it had been so long, this couldn’t be a game. And it wasn’t Bechalle who called me here as it appeared that would trespass on causality. Something else happened, something I didn’t understand. Perhaps couldn’t. But, damn, it was frustrating not knowing anything. The memories of my former life were largely denied me. Except for, apparently, what I’d learned about science, history, philosophy. General knowledge, the kind of knowing we take for granted.

That situation itself was strange. In a land of magic, why would science be universal? Why would math even work? Maybe it didn’t. I’d have to test it out someday, somehow. After all, I was a walking violation of the second law of thermodynamics.

“You did right,” Brundle said, walking up to my left.

“What’s that?”

“Putting Gun in his place.”

“Ah, yeah.”

“I figured I needed to have a talk with him later. Straighten out his focus.”

“I hope that’s not necessary now. Though, maybe you should anyways.”

“I worried that you weren’t going to do anything. But you did. It’s not easy, being ruler, and keeping the chain of command. It must be harder for you.”

“Thank you, Brundle.”

We stood there for a while in silence, staring out across the valley below. Dark, but you could see. The longer you looked, the more popped out at you, came alive. A stream ran the length of the valley, trees lining it. Beside them, what were probably deer walking slowly, grazing.

I didn’t see anything stalking them, but neither would they.

Brundle broke our silence, saying, “We also, you should know, got our master smiths out of the castle. Dressed them as soldiers.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten. As soldiers?”

“Neither man complained. And each brought their favored journeymen with them.”

“That is good news. I guess they’re going home.” We’d be able to restart weapon and armor production, then. After retaking the castle. Assuming we made it that far.

“We all are. Princess Cayce. We all are.”

No, I thought to myself, not all of us. I’m building a home where I am and not returning to one. A home made of loyal companions, friends. I just had to keep the would-be lovers at bay.

The smell of meat cooking drew me away from these thoughts and sights, stealing my attention. The interesting stuff, drawing my attention, getting all the processing power. In my next life, I’m going to make a point of avoiding philosophy. Intrusive nonsense.

I said to Brundle as we headed back, “You know, there’s a lot wrong with this world, this life, but you’re not among those. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

***

After the meal – beef steaks, free range of course, and very tasty – I decided now was a good time. Maybe it’d even cheer up Gun, who’d become quiet. Not sulky, no, no, just formal. He was, I guess, the youngest. And the infantry major. The bottom of the totem pole in our leadership group. Whatever, I valued his expertise, leadership and, no, I wasn’t considering any non-military skills. But there was no way for me to praise him, bring him up, and make him a full equal in our crowd without him getting the wrong idea. It pained me a bit to say nothing, but it was the only course of action.

I walked over to my packhorse, who was hanging out by Cloud, and it struck me then I’d never learned the packhorse’s name. I’d have to ask the stablehand later.

Rummaging through the saddle packs on the ground, I took a particular, smallish box back to camp, elegant rope handles draped off each side. I didn’t even need a second person to help me carry it.

“Gentlemen, I have something for you.” They were all sitting around the fire, trading stories, but they quieted down, turned to face me as I flipped open the golden latch on the dark and silver lined box. “The jeweler made these out of my old chainmail. So, they’re not going to be pretty.”

“You didn’t simply get it resized?” asked Morry.

“Nah, got all this fancy jewelry now.” I held up my hand to show the perseidian iron bracelet, almost panicking because in that instant, like a moron, I admitted to them that these were holding my magic in. But, no. No surprised faces. They assumed my iron jewelry was for protection from magical energy. Then I looked in the box. Huh.

“Uhm, I guess I was wrong. These are pretty.” Pulling out a necklace, holding it aloft, firelight reflected off the gold and charcoal chain, dancing merrily as the necklace moved. Dangling from the metal and made of it, the outline of a little girl wearing a dress and holding an umbrella as big as she was, studded with five diamonds. The hardest gem to keep out even the harshest of rain.

Gun looked at me with bafflement in his face, “You want us to put jewelry on you?”

“No, ah, these are for you.” Unable to keep the laughter out of my voice, I passed him one, red and orange glinting off the gems in the firelight. Leaving one behind, I took out the little girls holding their diamond studded umbrellas twirling around the gold and charcoal chain necklace and passed one each to Rand, Morry, Brundle. They held them almost at arm’s length, wondering what to do with them.

“Are these for, uh, our future wives?”

“No, Rand, they’re for you. I had them made to protect you guys from magic. I figured the iron protected me while I killed those mages, it would be better on dangerous soldiers like yourselves. And, hey! They’re so cute!”

“Princess, are you sure these are the right necklaces?”

Brundle put his on, “Either someone made a mistake or I’m going to have words with the jeweler.”

“I think,” doing my best to stifle laughter and nearly succeeding, “it brings out your masculine features.”

“It sparkles,” said Morry.

Rand tucked his under his gambeson. “No one needs to . . . see it for these to work now do they?”

“I don’t think so. We can ask Etienne to blast you with magic tomorrow if you want to test them out.”

“No thank you. I’m fine.”

Morry was still holding his. “The diamonds, we don’t need them, correct? I could strip them out, have this melted and remade, and buy a lot of ale.” He turned it upside down, inspecting both sides, “a lot of ale. Maybe an alehouse.”

“I wonder if they work from a pocket?” asked Gun.

“No, no,” I stood up, “around your neck! You guys can be my cute Umbrella Squad! It’s great! Or maybe . . .”

“Let me see, I’m your General Bodyguard Chef, uh, Knight and now-”

“The Parasol Patrol!”

“Yup, Princess, I need a drink.”