Chapter XXXVII - Aiden

Needless to say...I really Love this chapter!! Hope you do too. :)

~Emily "Firebrand"

The day dawned dark.

Perfect, Brysa thought morosely. A fell sky for a fell day. She stood at the edge of the Elangsian war camp, facing northwest, looking over the hills the army had just traversed across. Mist clung to the ridges, swathing the knolls with an ethereal cloak. In that direction was Ruma; home; familiarity. Not that any of that was much to speak of. Mother’s mad, Father’s power-hungry, and I will not see Ruma again until after my marriage to Jaquin.

Abruptly Brysa swiveled around so she was facing the enormous camp of the Elangsian army, and beyond it, the field the battle between Aerilya and Elangsia would take place on. Beside her the two expressionless guards who had dogged her footsteps since the departure from Ruma, stood silently watching. Always watching.

Her tent—made of sky-blue cloth and flying pennants of silver, the colors of Elangsian royalty—had been erected some distance behind the army, upon a hill. Hence she was able to see the meadow beyond the army in front of her, looming Mairbrac Forest, and the dark, mysterious shape of the encamped Aerilyan army.

What were their men like, Brysa mused. Were the Aerilyan warriors truly as fearsome as the tales portrayed them to be?

They must be, else the war would have ended long ago. Today their numbers are less than ours…will they fall at last? Or will this turn into yet another bloodbath with no resolution?

She looked at one of the two guards. “When will it begin?”

He looked at her, a trace of surprise flickering through his brown gaze. “My lady?”

“The battle,” she said, motioning impatiently. “When do you think it will start?”

The guard exchanged an uncertain look with his comrade before replying, “Probably tomorrow morning. I understand the king was not expecting the Aerilyans to be already prepared for a fight, so he and the generals will need to confer.”

“How do you suppose they anticipated our arrival?”

He shifted on his feet. “A spy, I suppose.”

“A spy,” she murmured, her tone changing.

The other guard decided to pipe up: “That Hunter they’ve got on their side, he’s a sly one, my lady. They say he’s got eyes and ears all over Elangsia. It’s probably his work that resulted in their army being amassed.”

Why does everyone blame everything on the Hunter? she wondered with a streak of dark amusement. He’s smart, but he is human like the rest of us.

Suddenly an image of Rebekka came to mind. In Brysa’s head, the maid was as delicate and beautiful as ever, but wore a haunting expression of sorrow mixed with hope. Brysa’s heart clenched, remembering the mission she had sent Rebekka on: to meet the mysterious and elusive Cormac Alstair in the marketplace in Ruma. Again, Brysa’s suspicions flooded back. Alstair was definitely more than he appeared to be. He was under suspicion by the city soldiers also, she recalled. She already knew he must be a spy for Aerilya...but what if he had been more? Already he would have to be more than an average spy to be sent to the capital of Elangsia on a mission. But perhaps...

She stopped, her blood turning chilly. Perhaps Cormac Alstair had been not just a great spy in Aerilya’s arsenal; perhaps he had been the greatest spy they had.

Perhaps he was the Hunter of Mairbrac.

It was definitely possible. More than possible—it was quite probable. Wouldn’t Father just die if he knew how easily he could have captured his prize a mere few days ago? thought Brysa cynically.

If all her postulations were correct, that meant Zoe knew the Hunter. Brysa half-smiled. Nothing about that girl would surprise me, especially if it involved a rebel Aerilyan leader. A thread of ruefulness drifted through her heart, interwoven with regret. Ah, Zoe. Where are you now?

Brysa glanced over at the enemy lines once again; her lips slightly parted and eyes soft. Zoe was there. She had to be. She was a fighter to her core; she would die before leaving the site of such an important battle.

A wave of longing washed over Brysa, taking her by surprise. She missed the fiery slave girl. She actually missed her; just as fiercely as she missed Rebekka. Gazing up at the leaden sky, the princess closed her eyes against the depressing grayness that closed in on her body and heart. Distractedly, she reached out with her emotions, searching. Hoping.

Deus...if you exist, she prayed slowly, desperately, show yourself. More than that, lend some protection to Zoe. Be with her. If you’re there at all, that is my request.

She felt and heard nothing in reply, and a feeling of foolishness enveloped her. She sighed, opened her eyes, and walked toward her tent, shaking her head at her idiocy.

Still, despite her skepticism about her attempt at prayer, she could not help adding one last thing.

Please, Deus. Please.

è è è è è è è è è

The day passed slowly. Both armies held their positions, staring at each other across the field like two cornered cats that were each calculating the best time and place to strike. Behind the dreary clouds the sun rose, and set, bringing the coolness of night. Only the brightest of stars managed to pierce the haze in the heavens, and even they twinkled dully above the land, offering little light and less hope.

All too soon, and yet not soon enough, the stars faded completely and the eastern horizon began to lighten. It harked the beginning of day once more. And as if on cue, both armies began to stir. Orders were passed, weapons were brought out, and soldiers began to assemble.

In his tent, Tancred pulled a suit of chain mail over his head with an accompanying rustle of metal links. The hauberk covered his torso, upper arms, and thighs, and pressed down on his shoulders with its added weight. Covering it was a tabard of dark green and brown. Moving with smooth, automatic gestures, he next caught up and fastened on his leather breastplate, which was embossed with gleaming metal to form the crest of Aerilya: the rearing unicorn. Following that were the shoulder-guards, made of thick, treated leather that had been sewn into overlapping plates. His fingers pulled the straps through the buckles, a familiar action he had been doing since he was a child.

His leather boots were already on his feet, and soon his broadsword was securely in place across his back, held there by way of the thick baldric that ran across his chest. The sword was followed by all his knives, all of which were sheathed in various places under his clothing, in his boots, and even nestled beneath the sheath on his back.

Tancred paused as he picked up the assassin’s dagger. The knife had been on his person almost constantly since he left Ruma. He rubbed the smooth, worn handle thoughtfully. After a moment of indecision, he placed it back in the sack that lay open on his cot.

Deliberately turning his attention away from the weapon, he picked up his two leather bracers and began laboring to bind them on his forearms. He grimaced slightly. Bracers were much easier to put on when another person was helping, for fastening the leather straps one-handed was troublesome. Blast, he thought darkly as the strap he fumbled with slipped again.

Abruptly, a vivid recollection washed over Tancred, causing him to stay his movements and close his eyes. He exhaled slowly as the memory swept him back....

“Kris, let me help you.” Sixteen-year-old Tancred stepped forward to help Kristalyn with her leather bracers. He had noted the wrinkle of frustration on his sister’s face and quickly pinpointed the reason for it.

“Thanks, Tray,” Kristalyn replied, flicking her blond ponytail over her armored shoulder as she held out her arms to him. He worked quickly, weaving the straps through the buckles and pulling them snug. After he finished, his sister wordlessly picked up his own bracers and motioned for him to hold out his arms. A moment later she had fastened both of his on him too.

“Thank you,” Tancred said quietly. Reaching up to touch the hilt of his sword on his back, reassuring himself, he glanced at Kris again. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said calmly, meeting his gaze with her steady green one.

It was their first solo mission, and both of them were definitely on edge from nerves. Taking a deep breath, Tancred nodded to the right. “The slavers will be coming down the northern road,” he murmured, though he knew Kris was just as aware of it as he was. “Let’s go.”

“I’m right behind you, Tray,” she said as they turned and plunged into the depths of upper Mairbrac Forest.

“Tancred. Tancred?”

Shaking his head, Tancred pulled himself out of the memory with a huge effort. He glanced over to see his mother duck under the flap of his tent, concern etched on her face. Her long hair was drawn back in her typical single braid, but today she wore a sword at her side and a layer of light armor, though he already knew she was not going to be riding into the actual battle.

“Are you all right, son?” she asked, stepping closer to him.

He nodded, blanking his expression and hiding the emotion that had been raised by the memory. “It’s just the bracers,” he said, his voice hoarse. Slightly annoyed, he cleared his throat.

“Let me help you,” his mother said gently. Without another word she reached forward and expertly finished what he had started. “There. You’re set.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said quietly. Reaching forward, he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Stay safe today, you hear?”

She managed a small smile. “It’s you who must be staying safe,” she whispered. “You’re the one riding into danger.”

“I’ll be all right.”

“So you say. Your end is up to Deus.”

“Of course.” Tancred swallowed. Death did not faze him, but the idea of losing those he loved was a thought that never ceased to alarm him to his very core. “I’m going to get Chale. If I don’t see you before I ride out...” he hesitated, and then smiled reassuringly at her. “I love you.”

Tears shone in Shyla’s eyes but she valiantly kept them from streaming down her cheeks. “I love you too, Tancred. Go with Deus.”

He simply nodded and turned away, ducking out of his tent. The day had lightened considerably since he first woke, and everything was lit with a vague blue-gray glow from the sun trying to shine through the cloud cover. The men were up and active; many were already mounted on their horses and the excited steeds snorted and pranced. They could sense the coming conflict.

Lance ran up to him, leading Chale who was already saddled and bridled. “Thanks,” Tancred said, grabbing the reins from the younger man. Lance was outfitted in armor much like Tancred’s and his face was set with determination. “Ready, Lance?” he asked simply.

“Aye, sir. Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Good man,” Tancred murmured. After glancing around, he asked, “Have you seen Zoe?”

A telltale flicker of warmth, mixed with concern, shot across Lance’s face and caused something to twist in Tancred’s midsection. He frowned. He was aware of Lance’s affection for Zoe. He did not like it much, either.

Oblivious to Tancred’s displeasure, Lance replied, “I’ve not seen her, sir, but Brac is still tethered close to where I got Chale. I believe she’s still in her tent.”

“Thank you,” Tancred replied with more curtness than he had intended to use. Turning sharply to one side, he mounted Chale and heeled the stallion through the churning mass of the camp. After a few moments he stopped in front of Zoe’s tent and dismounted. He tossed Chale’s reins over one of the tent pegs and paused at the opening to the tent. “Zoe?”

The flap opened and Zoe stepped out, looking completely different than she had the night before. Gone were all vestiges of vulnerability; they had been completely replaced by iron-like resolve. The tall young woman was clad in chain mail and a set of leather armor that had either been designed for a medium-sized man, or Kristalyn. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in one long braid, revealing the contours of her high cheekbones and square jaw. A sword was strapped to her back, and Tancred glimpsed two knives held in place at her hips by her wide leather belt.

“I’m almost ready,” she said, her voice quiet but strong. Her eyes, bright in the luminous light of early morning, swerved away from him and instead scanned the camp. “I’m not late, am I?”

“No,” he said. He dropped his gaze to her hands and amusement flared, quick and bright, as he glimpsed that she was holding her leather bracers. “You need help?” he asked mildly, motioning to the bracers.

A look of frustration crossed her face and she glanced at the offending pieces of equipment. “I can’t get the blasted things on,” she muttered, reluctantly handing them to him.

“Kris and I used to help each other with them,” he explained, swiftly strapping hers on. His fingers grazed the warm skin of her hand and his heart clenched at the thought of that same hand turning white and stiff after the throes of death.

She withdrew from his touch but lifted her gaze to meet his straight on. “Thank you,” she said softly. Her eyes glowed, serving both to warm Tancred and reinforce his overwhelmingly protective instincts.

“Stay close to me,” he said in a low, even voice.

“That will do little for either of us in the middle of a battle.”

His gaze did not soften or waver. “Stay close to me,” he repeated firmly.

A long pause ensued before she nodded very faintly. “I will.”

“Go get Brac. I’m going to assemble the men. Jaedon will be to my left; stay between us.”

“Aye,” she whispered in assent before slipping away.

He turned and watched her walk off, her stride long and measured. Suppressing thoughts that demanded to be acknowledged, he turned to Chale and mounted again. Time was marching swiftly on, and the impending battle would not be denied. He had to be ready, and make sure his men were ready.

è è è è è è è è è

Zoe slid the saddle unto Brac and tightened the girth, patting the stallion’s neck after she finished. “Easy, boy,” she murmured. His nostrils were wide and flared, and his ears swiveled constantly back and forth as he struggled to take in everything around them. “Save your energy for later.”

She swung up into the saddle and heeled him forward. A harsh, distant cry sounded high above, and she raised her gaze to the sky. Circling slowly over the field were vultures, their wings spread wide as they ominously revolved over the plain. Waiting to feast on human flesh, Zoe thought grimly. How the fowl knew to show up when battles were forming, she would never know.

Brac joined the Hunter’s men and Zoe directed him through them toward the front where Jaedon and Tancred were mounted on the dun and golden bay. Chale shook his thick mane as she pulled up alongside them and wheeled Brac around so she was facing the men as Tancred and Jaedon were. She noticed that several of the men were holding a banner that she did not recognize. The banner, usually called a gonfalon, was dark green and had the emblem of a great cat leaping over an orange-red flame embroidered unto it. A new gonfalon? What for? She turned to inquire about it of Tancred, but abruptly stopped herself.

Tancred looked rugged and commanding in his armor; the brown of the leather made his hair appear darker and his blue eyes fairly blaze out of his tanned skin. Raising one hand high, he called for attention.

“We’re riding to join King Jaeger’s main-battle force,” he told them in a loud voice that pierced the early morning air. “While we are giving our strength to the king, remember as always that you are fighting under the banner of the Hunter. Our cause is freedom and justice. Today Elangsia is going to try to take that from us in an attack more brutal than we are used to.”

The men were silent, their eyes trained on Tancred as he continued speaking. Unintentionally, Zoe found herself intently watching him too, unable to look away. His face was lit with fire; the fire of determination and resolve. Vaguely her mind had registered his reference to the ‘banner of the Hunter’ though. That’s what the gonfalon with the cat and fire must be, she realized.

He glanced over the men with his sharp eyes and finished in a quiet but steel-laced tone, “We ourselves are not strong enough to face the enemy. But we know One who is—and it is to Him that we now relinquish our fates and our swords.”

“Aye!” The response from the men was full of fervor.

Tancred was finished, but something in Zoe’s heart stirred and before he turned and gave the order to ride out, she sat straighter in the saddle and lifted her hand to her sword hilt. Drawing it forth with a shing, she lifted it high, so that its iridescent silver hue was visible to all.

“Men of Aerilya,” she cried loudly, wondering at the same time what in the world she was doing, “here is my sword! Today, though I am a foreigner, I fight as one of your own. When you ride out, remember that you represent a country that seeks to uphold the ideals of Deus Himself. Now prepare yourselves, and let’s ride!”

A roar of approval sounded as Zoe sheathed her blade, her breath short on account of adrenaline. She glanced over to glimpse Jaedon’s approving nod, and meet Tancred’s inescapable gaze. Without another word the three of them pulled their mounts around and broke into a canter as they rode away from the Hunter’s camp toward Aerilya’s already gathered main-battle force. Behind them streamed the rest of the men, the hooves of the horses breaking into a drumming that sounded like thunder.

Tancred looked over at her once and said, “Remember: stay close to me!”

“Did I not already promise?” she shot back, her braid whipping behind her. “I will be near at hand. You need somebody to watch your back too, you know.”

He sent her the barest of smiles and faced forward once again. They passed the rearguard, made up of all the archers of Aerilya. They raised their longbows to Tancred as he swept past, and called out to him with encouragement and affection. While many of the Aerilyans had never met the Hunter, they all revered him and what he represented.

Soon they were riding in front of the troops of Aerilya, which were organized and ready to gallop out. The main-battle troops, made up of infantry in the rear and Aerilya’s knights in the front, also cheered as they rushed by. Zoe spotted King Jaeger and his generals at the front of the forces and Tancred appeared to be making his way toward them. Prince Garrick was present also, mounted on a snow-white mare, and Zoe was surprised but pleased to see Father Gywain there as well, riding a brown horse and holding an iron mace held in his right hand.

“Sire.” Tancred pulled to a halt in front of the king and greeted him with a slight bow of his head. The men began pulled up behind them, their horses snorting and blowing after the brief run. Zoe patted Brac and expertly kept the prancing stallion in place. “We are here to offer our arms to Aerilya.”

“And Aerilya accepts,” the king replied formally, though Zoe knew of course all this had been agreed upon long before that moment. “Will you and your captains be riding beside me this day, Lord Hunter?”

“With respect, no,” Tancred said without hesitation. “Today, my lord, my place is at the head of my men.”

King Jaeger nodded, scanning the Hunter’s lines for a moment. “You have a gonfalon of your own?” he questioned with what Zoe thought was a tinge of surprise. “I did not hear of this.”

“I trust you do not object. I ordered a banner made to represent the Hunter and the legacy that title encompasses. My men and I have long been obscure and hidden in legends. Today I wished to make our identities known to friends and foes alike.”

“I do not object. Where will you take your place, sir?”

Tancred tipped his head toward where the vanguard—made up of Aerilyan cavalry—was assembled some ways from the troops in the main-battle. “The northeastern edge of the main-battle would serve us well.”

“Go then,” the king said. “May Deus speed you and keep you all safe.” His eyes flicked to Zoe for a moment, then back to Tancred. “Keep well what is in your care, Ralyn.”

Surprised that the king would address Tancred so informally, Zoe glanced from Tancred to King Jaeger and back again. Is the king referring to Tancred’s men? His responsibilities on the field of battle? What?

To Zoe’s chagrin, Tancred apparently understood whatever it was the king was implying and nodded once. “Aye, sire,” he said in a very low voice.

Fifteen minutes later the Hunter’s men had all formed a flank directly to the right of the body of the main-battle. Staring across the field, Zoe could see Elangisa’s army spread out, like a dark snake that was slowly slithering forward to strike them. Tightening her grip on Brac’s reins, she lifted her chin and glanced over at Tancred. “Orders, sir?”

He did not look at her. “Just follow my lead, Zoe,” he said in an extremely quiet voice that she could hardly hear over the noise of the army to her left and the vanguard to her far right.

“Haven’t I always?” she managed, her voice giving off a tremor that she did not appreciate but could not stop. Courage, Zoe, she muttered to herself. With battle so close, her nerves were rebelling.

He chuckled softly. “Oh, of course. You’ve always been a shining example of womanly submission.”

“Don’t belittle me so close to battle, Tancred,” she breathed back, her eyes lightening with wit that was amusing in and of itself because of their extremely humorless circumstances. “Aren’t you afraid I might not watch your back?”

Unexpectedly he glanced over and their eyes locked. A cry sounded from the area King Jaeger was in, and Zoe realized the army was beginning to march out.

“No,” Tancred evenly replied to her question. “I would trust my life to you.”

Shock washed over her. Before she could think up a reply, Tancred turned forward and raised his hand in a forward motion. “Move out!” he called, and heeled Chale forward.

Still stunned at his admission of trust in her, Zoe mechanically squeezed her legs against Brac and kept pace with Tancred’s stallion. She shook her head and forced her attention to the matter at hand. Focus. Keep your eyes on the enemy. No distractions.

The Hunter’s men stayed in line with the front lines of the main-battle; the drum of hooves surrounded them all and raised a terrible thunder that engulfed the entire plain. The turf beneath them became nothing more than a blur as their pace increased from canter to gallop. Slowly the even frontline of the main-battle shifted to become more of a V-shaped force, with King Jaeger and his knights at the apex. The infantry was swiftly left behind; Zoe knew they were traveling fast enough that they would arrive and join into the fray at the place the two armies eventually clashed, after the first wave of cavalry had collided.

Tancred, Jaedon, and Zoe pressed their mounts on faster and the Hunter’s men broke off slightly from the main-battle to draw ahead. With each pounding stride, the Elangsian’s army became more distinct. Zoe sucked in a breath as she saw that the enemy too was charging at a gallop toward them. Not only that, but the Elangsian knights had their twenty-foot lances lowered to skewer the front lines of the Aerilyans.

“Lances!” Tancred yelled hoarsely to the knights off to his left. They heard him and soon the iron-tipped spears that the Aerilyan knights held swept downward and leveled on the Elangsian front lines. The next moment, Tancred reached back with his right hand and drew forth his huge broadsword. Following his lead, Zoe pulled her own sword out and held it at the ready as Brac flew onward.

They drew closer to the Elangsian lines. Zoe could see the white in the eye of an Elangsian horse. Only a split second more and they would collide—

Deus, keep me.

The two armies impacted.

The dull sound of metal piercing horseflesh rippled over the field and was followed immediately by screams uttered by creature and man alike. The heavy thud as the great steeds fell to the ground, rolling over their riders, was mixed with the clash of steel against steel and the whistle of arrows.

Zoe swung her blade down and to the right, knocking the tip of a lance away from her and Brac as they rushed into the Elangsian’s front lines like a flood. The next second her sword swiped across the throat of the knight who held the lance. Blood spurted, but she did not witness his end for Brac carried her far past him and into the fray. Order dissolved into chaos. Time seemed to slow; each second of life depended on whether her sword was quick enough to block the enemy’s blade, lance, cudgel, or any other weapon.

At first all the men she encountered were mounted on horseback. One galloped toward her, screaming lustily, and wielded his great broadsword around to sever her head. Zoe slipped her right foot out of the stirrup and slid down Brac’s left side so the sword whistled over where she had just been sitting. Wrenching herself back up, she slammed her sword into the back of the man’s helmet with as much force as she could muster. He pulled up his horse to turn back and engage her, but she was soon occupied with another man.

Duck, parry, attack! She struck hard at the man’s shoulder, and her blade snaked between an opening in his armor. He cried out as she pulled her sword out and swung it toward his neck. He was dead in the space of a heartbeat, his partially exposed jugular completely severed.

Brac snorted as blood spattered on his neck, but plunged on without pause. Before she got far she heard a yell behind her and turned to see the knight she’d hit in the helmet was coming back for her. Wheeling Brac around, she raised her sword to meet his.

He hit like a hammer! Gasping at the pain that ran up her arm and into her shoulder, Zoe struggled not to give way, but it was hopeless. He was infinitely stronger than her, and he knew it. He pressed his advantage, pushing her sword further and further down, bringing the edge of his sword closer to her neck.

“Ahh!” Zoe cried out as her shoulder gave a spasm of pain at the pressure.

Thwack. She yelled again, this time in surprise, as a knife flew with deadly precision to bury itself in the man she fought, right under his raised arm. The man jerked with surprise and pain, and the pressure he exerted on her weakened noticeably. Quickly disengaging their blades, Zoe finished him off. Before she rode off, she grabbed the long knife from under his arm and pulled it out in one swift yank. She wanted to gag at the shining blood that coated its entire length, but she forced herself to ignore it and slipped it into her belt.

Looking up, she saw another enemy rushing toward her. He held a surprisingly small sword that she would probably be able to knock loose easily. Readying herself she heeled Brac toward him, trying to calculate how the enemy held his sword and how she had the best chance to disarm him...

Abruptly she heard a small whoosh sound, and Brac jolted. Her stallion bellowed in pain and lurched to his knees just before the man with the short sword reached them. Unable to engage him, Zoe lost her sword as she flew through the air and curled herself into a ball when she hit the ground. Shaking her head, she immediately stumbled to her feet, though she was dizzy. Hooves pounded all around her, and there were hundreds of others who had been dismounted and were battling it out with the Elangsian infantry.

“Brac!” she shouted, looking back the way she had flown from. “Brac!”

She spotted him floundering on the ground, his legs churning as he struggled to right himself. She began clawing her way back toward him, through the churning mass of warriors. One man raised his sword against her, but she drew one of her knives and buried it in his neck before he had a chance to do anything to her. Fear pulsed through her as she drew closer to Brac. No, no, no, she thought erratically. Brac, no!

Blood coated his neck, and in the middle of the gushing crimson flood, Zoe saw the black-feathered tip of a crossbow dart. He gave a sort of half-snort, half-whinny. The sound was infused with pain. “Brac,” she soothed in a trembling voice, dropping to her knees by him. “It’s okay, boy, it’s okay.”

Her fingers shook as they neared the dart. She would have to pull it out. But then what? She had nothing to bind the stallion’s wound with, and without it he would bleed to death. “I can’t do it,” she cried to no one in particular.

Brac, you’re mine. You’re mine from Aiden. You’re my living connection to him, to them. My family. Oh, Deus, what is this? What is this cruelty?

She looked up, tears threatening. Through her blurred vision she saw a wave of enemy infantry rushing at her; she leapt to her feet and drew her other knife and the one she had pulled out of the dead knight earlier. Fueled by anger and fear, she threw them with deadly accuracy and two of the charging men fell. Breathing hard, she turned and saw a corpse lying on the ground with a sword in his breast. Grabbing its hilt with both hands, she pulled with all her strength and wrenched it free. Swinging around, she stood in front of Brac and readied herself for impact. She gritted her teeth and yelled as they drew closer. “Ahh!”

Her sword slashed again and again, felling the enemies as they came close. Before long she was aided by some knights of Aerilya who swept through the infantry and cut them down like scythes severing wheat. Panting, Zoe again dropped down by Brac, grateful for a quick break in the battle.

“This is going to hurt, boy,” she whispered in warning as her fingers hovered over the dart in his neck. His dark eyes were clouded in agony and his breath whistled as he wheezed out each lungful of air.

Closing her fingers around the dart, Zoe closed her eyes and yanked as hard as she could.

Brac screamed, his body arching in a great spasm as the barb came free and blood spurted out anew. His whole frame trembled and writhed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cried, pressing her hands down on the wound in an attempt to stem the blood flow. Hot sticky blood gushed around her palms and through her fingers, mocking her attempt to help her horse. “I’m sorry!”

“Zoe!”

She glanced up with wide eyes to see Tancred gallop over on Chale. Both of them were streaked with blood and battle grim. Tancred took in her situation in a half-second and jumped off of Chale. “Take off his saddle and bridle so he can breathe,” he ordered, crouching down beside her.

Zoe hurried to obey, loosening the girth and slipped the bit out of Brac’s mouth, which hung open slackly as he struggled to suck in each breath. Tancred produced a long scarf from somewhere and yelled, “I’m going to bind up his neck; can you hold him down and keep him calm while I do?”

“Yes,” she nodded, strands of hair sticking to her forehead and neck. Laying her hand on Brac’s cheek, she whispered in his ear, “Be strong, my brave boy. You can do it. Easy, easy!” she hastened as Brac threatened to rebel against Tancred’s gentle but firm touch. Brac gave a desperate, strangled whinny when Tancred applied pressure to the wound. “Hush, hold still. Remember, just like when we trained with each other. You didn’t like me a bit, way back then. Aiden had to help us, to show you and me how to stay calm...easy now, easy.”

She raised her gaze, unable to meet Brac’s tortured eyes or watch Tancred as he bound up the wound. She kept talking, not hearing her own words, only thinking of keeping her beloved horse calm. All around them the battle had thinned and moved to another area in the field, providing them the time to take care of the stallion. Aimlessly Zoe’s eyes roved the field, dulled by now to the sights of death, gore, and blood that assaulted her. Men ran from one end of the field to the other, engaging the enemy and raising cries of fury and pain.

A dark-haired man appeared suddenly, arresting Zoe’s attention. Tall and strongly built, he was armed to the teeth and appeared to be rushing toward the Elangsian camp. Beside him, almost hidden from Zoe’s view, was a golden-haired companion. As she kept watching the man, mostly to keep her mind off of Brac’s pain, something deep in her heart stirred and her muscles clenched. Her eyesight, blurred with sweat, sharpened.

It could not be. And yet, her eyes did not lie.

Aiden?

Her breath caught. “Aiden!” she screamed.

Brac jerked at the volume of her voice and judging by Tancred’s sharp intake of breath, he had been startled too. “What is it?” he demanded, finishing up Brac’s bandage and turning toward her. Zoe hardly noticed as she propelled herself to her feet. She would have dashed off after Aiden had not Tancred laid hold of her arm and stopped her. “Zoe! You’re not armed. What has come over you?”

“That’s Aiden, that’s my brother!” she said, her voice shaking as she pointed to the man who was almost gone in the fray. “Let go of me, I need to see him!”

“No,” Tancred said firmly, though his eyes held sorrow in them. “That’s deep on the Elangsian’s side. You’d be killed. If that’s truly your brother, he may yet find us after the confusion has passed.”

Tortured, Zoe shook her head. He did not understand...he was wasting time! “That’s my brother,” she said as calmly as she could muster. “Let me go.”

Tancred shook his head, but released her arm. Without pausing for a second, Zoe darted away, catching up a sword from the ground as she ran. Behind her she heard Tancred yell something indiscernible, but she blocked him out. A moment later he drew abreast of her, but she merely dug deeper in her reserves of strength to pump her legs faster and did not listen when he shouted, “Zoe, stop! You’re being a fool!”

Zoe’s veins were rushing with adrenaline and she kept her eyes trained on the dark head of the man she knew was her brother. Aiden, don’t go; don’t disappear, not again. Stay a little longer! Aiden’s head turned for a second and she was able to see his profile—achingly familiar and yet completely foreign at the same time.

“Aiden!” she yelled again.

Her cry was lost in the tumult of battle. She and Tancred cut their way through several of the Elangsian lines, but Zoe’s heart sank as she realized Aiden had not seen her and he was gone now. The sorrow that washed over her threatened to incapacitate her; Tancred grabbed her arm again and dragged her out of the fray and halfway back toward Brac before she regained her composure.

“Don’t do that ever again,” Tancred growled harshly as they approached where Brac lay and she shook him off. He sheathed his sword in one swift thrust, his whole body rigid with anger. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Zoe whispered, feeling empty. “It was him; Aiden.”

“I believe you. But throwing yourself into blatant danger like that was not just insubordination, it was recklessness. I will not allow those serving under me to behave recklessly, do you understand?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. “Zoe!”

“I understand,” she said in a low tone. Her midsection twisted with angst that she refused to show but could barely hide. Aiden...Aiden!

Tancred’s gaze softened infinitesimally and he released her. “Go care for Brac. He’s lost a lot of blood. He needs you.”

She nodded listlessly. “I’ll take him back to camp.”

“Be careful. I’ll watch your retreat.” He swung up on Chale and reined the stallion around, his broadsword out of its scabbard once again.

She looked up at him with an expression completely devoid of life. “Thanks,” she whispered. Then without another word she ducked away.