The Sword of the Lady

Rudi looked out over the lake, out to where white ice faded into the white-gray sky without a perceptible horizon. The surface wasn?t table smooth, as he?d imagined it would be; it was more as if waves themselves had frozen, with lumps like congealed porridge here and there, and it was covered with hard-packed snow driven by the wind into rippled patterns. The rocky islet was visible on the edge of sight, topped by a few twisted pines; only the shipwreck made it easy to spot now. Wisps of snow or ice crystal scudded over the surface, gusting up man-high now and then, ankle deep most of the time.

He thought for a moment longer, then held up the stub of arrow:?I think this was done by our un-friends,? he said.?Not just the Sword of the Prophet-say what you like of the Cutters, they aren?t Eaters. They?ve picked up local allies, such as our friend Walks Quiet warned they might have.?

Everyone nodded. The Indian?s hand fell unconsciously to the hilt of his bowie knife with its beaded sheath. ?And it?s also my thought that they?ve gotten ahead of us and are pla

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Everyone nodded. Fred said thoughtfully: ?Dad always said that you should force a fight when the enemy?s got the jump on you and can make you give battle anyway. Force it on your own terms.?

Victoria pursed her lips thoughtfully.? My Dad always said if you know it?s a trap, it?s still a trap-for the other guy. You can bust it from the inside. He wrecked the Cutters good a couple of times that way,?fore they wore us Powder River folks down.?

Rudi nodded respectfully.?That?s my thought exactly. The enemy will outnumber us, so we need to seize advantage. This will require careful scouting, but we have that heavy little surprise in the last sled of the four-?

The pillar of smoke on the horizon turned to a tiny thread as Major Graber lowered his binoculars. ?That is the hamlet the Bekwa destroyed,? he said, his voice freighted with disgust.?Allowing that was… unwise. Bad tactics.? ?They are savages,? Dalan said, with a shrug.?Besides, it matters little what happens to the bodies of the soulless. They are as animals anyway.?

Graber grunted noncommittally. That was perilously close to making apologies for abomination; the Dictations were clear that the form of humanity was sacred, even among the merely physical who lacked true men?s atman and who it was fully lawful to kill. In any case… ?It gave us away,? he said.

What was that ancient saying? Worse than a crime, a mistake. ?We ca

Reluctantly, Graber nodded.

I do not like to give battle when an enemy invites it, he thought. Even when I have the advantage of numbers. Especially with this enemy. Still, we do have the numbers, and there are no extraneous factors here. It?s a flat plain, in effect; hell for quartermasters, but a tactician?s paradise. I need only hit them with a hammer heavier than any they can lift.

A brief brightness: And then… home? ?They?re coming in straight from the east,? Ritva panted.?About forty mounted men, the rest on foot.? ?How many of those?? ?Better than one hundred of them, less than two.? ?Ready, then,? Rudi said; he ignored the arrow standing in the cantle of her saddle, as did she.?Fall in.?

Now, let?s either all get killed, or do something I?d be calling truly spectacular, he thought with a taut grin. Lady Morrigu, cover me with Your wings. Lugh of the Many Skills, be with me now!

The little island and its wreck were not far to their rear; the shore was a line of gray and dark green off to the left. It had begun to snow again, a slow light drift of large fluffy flakes. He suppressed an impulse to catch one on his tongue, as he?d liked to do as a child. He?d been praying for a little extra snow, not too much, just enough to cover everything better than careful brushwork could do. And there were worse things to do than catch a snowflake, on what might be your last day in this turn of the Wheel of Life…

Instead he looked behind himself and made sure that the guide marks were plainly visible but inconspicuous; he?d made himself unpopular by taking everyone through it over and over again. Even though they?d all known that more likely than not the plan would go south, or change unpredictably. A few crows went by overhead from the shore woods to the island, or perhaps ravens. Somehow they always knew when men were about to lay a feast for them. ?Forward, my friends,? he said quietly.?The Lord and Lady keep Their hand over you.?

The seven of them sent their horses to the east; besides Rudi, there were Ignatius, Odard, Fred, Victoria and the twins. Most of the rest of their party were spread out on the rear slope of a long low dune, standing in scooped-out firing positions that left only head and shoulders visible, with spare arrows sticking in the hard snow point down by their hands. It all looked like the best possible disposition of an inferior force.

The dune disappeared quickly behind them; it was hard to see features in this world of white-on-white. His mount?s coal silk blackness was the most vivid thing in sight.

Like being inside that snow globe of mother?s, he thought. But one the size of the world.

Epona was feeling better after a couple of days with all the hay she could stuff down, as well as their hoarded feed pellets. Her knees came up proudly as she advanced at a canter, throwing little rooster tails of light snow up and forward as she paced; it would have glittered if the sun had been out. The older layer beneath creaked and gritted under the ironshod hooves of their warhorses; now and then it creaked a little more with a different, brittle note, that put his teeth on edge like biting down on copper foil.

Epona weighed a bit over a half ton. Add in him, his weapons and armor, and the war-saddle-they?d left off the steel-faced horse-barding today-and it was a third again more. All of that came down on those dancing hooves she seemed to place so lightly and delicately, but he?d seen them punch through a prone man as if he were made of wrapping paper. The water beneath him wasn?t far away, it was extremely deep and very, very cold, and in this gear he?d sink like a rock… only rocks didn?t need to breathe air.

And to be sure, I do. Drowning was supposed to be a comparatively painless way to die, but so stuffy… Yet a man lives just as long as he lives, and not a day more, he reminded himself.

The snow picked up a little more, but not enough to be called a storm; he was becoming a judge of those, in this land and in this fimbul winter of a season. After a moment he saw a line of black dots ahead. In another, they were men, tiny but distant. He unshipped his binoculars and adjusted the focusing screw with his thumb. ?Ah, as I thought,? he said. ?Your Majesty?? Ignatius said. ?They replaced their horses coming north from wherever they beached their ship on the Ohio, but what they?ve got are crowbait and badly trained, a lot like the ones I suffered with bringing back Ingolf?s wagons. And they?ve lost more condition than ours, besides starting lower.? ?Good,? the warrior-priest said.?We can control the distance of our engagement.? ?Exactly. For a while, at least.?

The fringe of troopers of the Sword of the Prophet were in a formation more ragged than any he?d seen them using before. He nodded again and recased his field glasses. Horse soldiers were only half of what made up a troop of cavalry of any sort. The other half was the horse, and its training and condition were every bit as important as the rider?s. ?Bows!? he said.