Book 6, Chapter 11: Commitment
Cresida was a mess the next morning. Dutifully, and with some amount of annoyance, I held her hair as she dry heaved into the chamber pot for the umpteenth time. Earlier, I’d patted her back gently, but by now I simply stared into the patterns of the cloth that gave us mild privacy, trying to ignore the unfortunate bodily functions, sounds and smells included in last night’s binge drinking exercise.
Patterns of repeating, overlapping flowers woven into larger flowers, their petals oval shaped. In my boredom, I thought of ways to count them. Not just multiplying them line by line – that was earlier – but how many flowers each larger one housed, how many flowers were produced as their edges met, spread across other flowers, how many could I make if allowed asymmetrical designs, and so on. It mildly reminded me of being in the Trap, where time had three dimensions, making communication an experience of memory and being and projection.
“I think . . . I think that’s the last one,” she said.
“Let’s try to get some bread into you. But first, here,” I passed her a damp cloth.
Still kneeling, face away from me, she took it, wiped her mouth, and said, “Oh, I am never drinking again.”
“Wise words but soon forgotten.” Holding my breath, I placed the lid on the pot. I kinda wanted servants right now because without them, it was definitely going to be me emptying that into the latrine. Unless I gave that young soldier a nice smile. Might be a good idea to exercise some girlish helplessness.
Back in the main part of the tent, she sat down, and I fetched some bread from the table, cutting a slice off for her. “No cheese yet. Just chew on it for a while. You know what would help? A lime or lemon, something to suck on.”
“Oh, no thank you!” She took a little bit of the bread and munched on it. “Let’s just start with this.”
I snapped my fingers, “Ginger! Do we have any?”
“None at all. Most of our supplies burned when the castle became molten.”
“Ah, my mistake.” Figuratively and literally. “Alright, tea then. But sip slowly. It should be cool by now.”
Just then the tent flap opened, “Ladies? I see you’re up and about, that’s good. We’ll be breaking camp soon.”
“Soon?” asked Cresida, shoulders hunched inward, face green and, in every conceivable way, looking miserable.
“Advance scouts from the northern contingent have arrived this morning. More of them. We’re to join the main body as soon as possible, as two larger forces are moving into our territory north of us and east of us.”
“Uhm,” I said, “why don’t we head west then?” West, toward my kingdom – not a bad idea! ‘Don’t worry guys, I got this. I’ll protect you.’ Ugh, the things I wish I could say. Maybe it was time for me to come clean, take off the superhero mask, so to speak. Except that my webshooters were dry and my iron suit out of batteries.
“That would only weaken our hand. No, we must meet these forces and hopefully convince them to leave without bloodshed. We do have the only mage on the continent, so if they have larger armies than we do, it won’t matter.”
I said to the captain, “Laemacian from the north? Who from the east?”
His eyes had dark circles under them, but despite having likely not slept, a shrewdness remained in them as he stepped forward, resting his hands on a chair on his side of the table, and holding my gaze, “Yes, the northern forces are Laemacian. The eastern ones, we don’t know yet. We’ve had . . . conflicting reports.”
It wasn’t my place, but I ventured to question him anyways, “Conflicting reports? How so?”
He looked down and to the left, jaw tense, “A large army, from a far-off kingdom and . . . some kind of religious contingent, so our scouts say. It’s hard to make sense of it. But, we’ll find out when we rejoin our forces. At least, we’ll get more detail. They will have had scouting parties monitoring the situation.”
I narrowed my eyes, “And you’re insisting on taking me with you?”
He shrugged, “Surely preferrable to being molested by bandits.”
It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to go with these guys. Any chance to kill the last mage was one I should take, but I hated the thought of being further cut off from Morry. And my kingdom. Especially if Laemacia were marching another army down. Though they didn’t need me, not really. My generals could handle it. And my armies already had superior weaponry than anyone else on the planet. It was more that we needed time. To rest, heal, rebuild. We just never seem to get it.
I crossed my arms. “Yes, being held against my will by this army is preferrable to being molested by thugs.”
“Lady Sarah, we’re sharing our food and shelter with you and keeping you safe. I apologize if you find this situation akin to imprisonment but think of your family. You will be returned to them with all possible haste. Events taking place right now are simply too dangerous to do so.”
“Of course. I apologize. It’s just tension, my mood. Captain, allow me to prepare you morning tea.” And with that, I set to work. If I found escaping this smaller army difficult, I’d find it much more so after joining with the larger army and murdering their mage. The captain might not even want to return me to my fake family after that.
***
It always impressed me how quickly a professional army could break camp and prepare for a long ride but, I was happy to note, these guys were slower than mine. Part of that was the wet tents, wet everything. It’d have been prudent for the captain to wait one more day, or at least a half day, to let the sun dry out the canvas, but he didn’t. Probably couldn’t. We really were in a rush. But not doing so would slow us down on the road, too, since the pack animals would be bogged down by weight, though the soldiers did their best to wring the water away.
Holding up the outfit she wanted me to wear, I said, “Again, Cresida, a servant’s dress? What’s wrong with the blue one?” Normally, I liked the simpler, rough cotton dresses of the servants. Since I knew she was forcing me in these to lower my rank in her eyes, I felt a little differently.
“It’s unbecoming for you to wear the clothing of a wizardess. Our soldiers might mistake you for being one and give them false hope.”
“Maybe I want some false hope.”
“It suits you, the rough cotton. Goes with your eyes. Be a good girl and pour me a little more tea.”
I used those purple eyes to scowl at her. And despite all our bonding last night and this morning. A long sigh stretched forth from my lungs. Ah, well, she was probably still jealous. And I did, to be completely honest, a lot of serving this morning and she sure seemed happier with me in that role.
***
To put it bluntly, Cresida was too bitchy to talk to during the ride. No ibuprofen for her, nor whatever medicines they had, prior to their castle being destroyed. She had to tough it out and didn’t make for good company. Not that she’d been good company before.
Once the trail moved through a forest, we had to ride single file, and I never rejoined her side. For a time, I daydreamed, thinking of my friends Brin and Tread, my big man, my generals and army, and wondering what they were getting up to. The girlish part of me hoped Brin and Tread were arranging their marriage and maybe sneaking off, out of sight for some couples time. And the mischievous part of me hoped a chaperone chased them, wagging a stern finger in their direction.
But the others, I hoped they were working hard. Our armies had taken a beating. The southern army, the one that’s troops would be searching for me soon, had perhaps lost forty percent of its soldiers because of those mages I’d just damned. My main general, Brundle, was rebuilding the army, the castle and surrounding village, when I’d last seen him. I knew him. Trusted him. He’d continue, dutifully and capably.
Coming from a technologically advanced world, or at least having the knowledge of one, my main contribution to my adopted kingdom was in weapons technology and the systems of production. These weapons were ancient for me – spears, swords, bows – roughly those of 350 BC, the kind used before Alexander’s father, Phillip, reinvented warfare. So, I stole from him, and Brundle rebuilt my armies around the sarissa phalanx, crossbows, the saddle and stirrup and lance using knights, and full plate armor. A mixer of ancient technology from Alexander’s time to the Renaissance.
I breathed deeply then, taking in the green, pine scents of the forest. If only I could invent the machine gun.
Nevertheless, the ancient weapons had made all the difference. Despite our smaller armies, we’d overcome all who faced us. If not for those mages unleashing fire and hell on my men, we’d have secured the kingdom.
I missed being there. Missed building up the nation. I guess – maybe, maybe! – I missed being the center of attention.
A sigh escaped my lips and I slumped a bit. Yeah. Well, at least I can admit it.
Though I’d left a boy in charge, Maitlan. He had, for lack of a better term, the hots for me. I friendzoned him. The problem was that he’d want Brundle to take the army north, on their side of the great river, to secure the castle he’d lost to the invaders from the west. That would reduce the pressure on our enemies to the east – and now this army that was keeping me prisoner, and the threats it soon faced.
Though my last instructions to Maitlan were to go secure his castle, hopefully, Brundle would resist until I got back. Hopefully, scouting parties were alerting him even now. If not to my presence being here, then to these potentially dangerous changes happening on our borders. Although for that, Carlisele would have to alert Brundle. Carlisele, ever a selfish man, might not. He might just march an army down here to take what he can before others claim the poorly defended land.
And if I didn’t get back, Maitlan might try to keep the throne. I needed to get back. As much as he liked me, would he really give up power if I returned after he’d solidified his? Especially since there was no way in hell I’d marry the boy?
I probably should have more faith in my men – they’d support me over him – but maybe it wasn’t fair of me to demand the throne. This wasn’t really my world. Maybe Maitlan is the rightful ruler, all things considered. And he was a good man. He’d very likely just hand back the throne because that was in his nature. Yet the old saying worried me: absolute power and all that awfulness.
The captain’s voice broke me out of my moping, “Lady Sarah? You’re looking dour this afternoon.” The trail had widened here, and he’d pulled his horse beside mine.
“Uh, yeah. We’re getting further from my home.”
“My lady, we’ve gone over this.”
“You asked what I was thinking. That’s what I was thinking.” It bugged me a little that I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Uhm, anyways, how long until we get there?”
“I must say, you take to the saddle very well. Most young women your age aren’t capable of riding for hours on end.”
“I did say that I’d ridden here. To this place.”
“Yes, you did. I’ve been meaning to ask. How many days did it take you? How did you evade the bandits?”
Well, I did not explain, I had a flying horse and didn’t even notice those below me in the same way you aren’t counting the ants as we go by. “Uhm. Yes, a long ride. I must have been lucky to escape notice. So very lucky.” In my mind, I repeated the phrase, ‘please don’t think I’m with the bandits, please don’t think I’m with the bandits, please don’t think I’m with the bandits . . .’
“I think, my lady, you perhaps aren’t sharing all the details of how you came to be here, on our land.”
I didn’t have a response to that. He was right. I was caught between acting like a young, cute girl, maybe batting my eyes and pouting my lips, asking meaningless, easy to answer questions, or asking to leave once again to keep him thinking I really missed my family. Anything to distract him. But some of those actions might have unintended consequences, like focusing his attention on my person, my body, my young, attractive, girl body. I stopped myself from sighing again, rolling my eyes, and just continued riding. “My lord?”
“By my calculations, your father’s land is almost a week’s ride from here. Yet, when we found you, you had no provisions, no horse, no acquaintances. So, I ask again, what were you doing here?”
Well, the picnic story wasn’t holding water. What to tell him, what to tell him, what to tell him? “Alright, I was lost.” I turned to face him, reached across to touch his arm, “And I really and truly am grateful you found me.” Looked down at the ground passing by, “I . . . couldn’t admit it, but I was so hungry and tired. You rescued me from my own faults and all I do is complain about not being home. I owe you much gratitude and an apology.”
“Ah. Headstrong. I can admire that in a person, but I have to say, it’s unexpected in a lady such as yourself.”
“Oh?”
“But then we wouldn’t be meeting were you unlike yourself. You’d be safely tucked in bed in your father’s holdings.”
“I’m sure he’s worried about me.” And I really wish I was safely tucked into my own bed.
“As soon as we can, I’ll send a message. But for the time being, it’s too dangerous for even a half dozen armed men to make the journey.”
“I understand.”
“By evening, hopefully before nightfall, we’ll be meeting up with our northern forces. You’ll be well protected there. Even still, you’d better stay with Cresida and I. We’ll have to find you something to do, perhaps being lady in waiting to Cresida. As a lady yourself, you must be well trained in courtly activities.”
I narrowed my eyes. Furrowed my brows. Scrunched up my nose, even! And mumbled the necessary, waited-on words, “I . . . yes, of course. As you see fit, Captain.” Tried not to bite my tongue. “It will be my pleasure.” Then, bit it for good measure and winced, a little.
“Well, then, it’s settled. We shall see you later, Lady Sarah.” And with that, he rode up the line, passing Cresida on the way.
She looked back at me, flashing a smug smile.
Instead of riding up and smashing her into the ground, I considered. The captain had all but said he doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t quite figure out what he was thinking. That I’m a spy? Assassin? I ruled that one out, since he wouldn’t entrust his wife to an assassin. Unless he really didn’t like Cresida, perhaps feeling about her the way I did in this moment.
He certainly couldn’t think I was responsible for killing his mages. He’d have a lot more deference toward me, a lot more fear, were that the case.
Maybe spy was the best fit. Keep your enemies close, and all that, as long as they aren’t too dangerous. Yet if he thought I was a spy, he’d want whatever information I had. And the methods to gaining that information weren’t generally fun for the spy.
Well, crap. I had to play housemaid to an annoying woman. Of lower rank! For some reason, that irked me more than it should. With possible interrogation in my future somehow bothering me less. But, you know, I was committed to murder and that course of action required sacrifice.
In the meantime, riding along, I devised all kinds of ways to get Cresida to drink as much as possible, one more time.
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