The Chaos Balance

LXX

Yesterday, you brought back ten mounts and left ten dead scouts. Three days ago, we slaughtered twenty. For nearly three eight-days, we have bled them, yet they have not left Lornth.” Fornal raised his eyebrows as his eyes went from Lewa to Huruc, and then to Nylan and Ayrlyn.

The candle stub behind the glass mantle flickered. Lewa cupped an empty mug between his hands, his eyes darting from the regent to the angels and back to the regent.

“If we had attacked them three eight-days ago,” Nylan answered slowly, “you would have few armsmen left, and the Cyadorans would be marching toward Clynya. If they didn’t hold it already.”

Fornal looked at the mug. “Hot…and sour, like your truths.” He set it on the rickety table, which wobbled. The shadows on the dingy wall wobbled as well. “So we have preserved Lornth-for now. The Cyadorans will do something. What think you, angels?”

“Sooner or later, they’ll send a big force after us,” Nylan predicted. “They’ll have to.” The wine in his mug was almost untouched. One sip of near-vinegar had been enough, even if it deadened the smell of sweat and blood.

Huruc took a quick and small sip, his eyes never leaving Nylan’s face.

“I would have acted. You would have, I think, yet they have not. What do you judge they will do, and when?” Fornal took another sip from the mug, made another face, and set it down.

“If you were the…lord of the Cyadoran forces, how would you explain how you keep losing men and mounts to a bunch of barbarians?” asked Ayrlyn. “They think we’re barbarians-that’s their attitude-and they have to do something.”

“You think so?” asked Huruc.

“What did they do to the people in Kula?” Ayrlyn raised her eyebrows, her hair glinting in the light from the single candle, despite the soot on the chipped glass mantle.

“Killed them.”

“They mutilated them,” added Nylan. “Even the children. Remember the lord of Cyador’s response to your scrolls?”

“There is that,” mused Fornal.

“When they send out large parties, we’ve managed to warn the locals, and we don’t attack. So they don’t get much. We’ve been pretty successful picking off their scouts and smaller forage parties. How would you feel?” pursued Ayrlyn.

“I would be angry,” admitted the coregent. “You did the warning, though. Did the locals heed you?”

“They said it wasn’t honorable,” admitted Ayrlyn, “but as soon as we left, so did they.”

“Peasants…they talk…” Fornal took another swig of the wine, followed by another face. “You ask questions, angel. Why do you not say what you mean?”

“Would you keep sending out smaller groups of lancers and armsmen if you had more armsmen than your enemy?”

Fornal frowned, and Nylan wanted to grin. Ayrlyn, without making a direct point of it, was refusing to be intimidated by the big young noble.

“Why…” Fornal nodded. “I see your point. What would you have me do?”

“Be ready to move,” Nylan said, “to another base. They can’t keep sending out their entire army. If they try it again, then perhaps-I may have some ideas-we can create some damage at the mines while they’re trying to sweep the countryside.”

“Some holders would call that a retreat, at least behind my back,” Fornal pointed out.

“Moving is not retreating. There is a difference. We take another position and keep fighting.”

“I will think about how I must report this so that our actions are not mistaken.” The black-bearded regent stood and stretched. “Thinking and hot wine-enough to spoil anything for an armsman.” He offered a quick grin before he strolled out of the dwelling’s main room and into the warm night.

“Good eve, angels,” added Lewa as he stood and followed Fornal.

Huruc sat and looked down at the mug. After a moment, he turned his head toward Ayrlyn. “What you say makes sense, but I fear it.” He paused. “Tell me, angel healer, why I fear your counsel.”

Nylan and Ayrlyn exchanged quick looks.

“It appears I am right to fear,” added the armsman with a laugh.

Ayrlyn nodded. “What we do has been effective, has it not? And it will become more effective. That will sting the lord of Cyador, and he will send more armsmen. It’s always that way.” She took a deep breath. “Then we will have to find out how to kill those men, and, if we succeed, he will send more. In the end, either Lornth or Cyador will fall.”

“That was fated from the beginning,” Nylan said softly. “The mines were only a game for the lord of Cyador to see how he could conquer Lornth. Cyador is not ruled by grassland bandits like Lord Ildyrom. And Cyador does not believe in honor as Lord Fornal does.”

“I have known that,” Huruc answered, “and it gives me no comfort.” He rose. “I thank you for your straight words, though many would not, if they knew them. Best they do not. Good night.”

After the older armsman left, Nylan stood, as did Ayrlyn. “Now what?” he asked.

“We figure out how to change the world-or we die.” Her words were cold, and so were her hands, despite the evening heat.