Page 40 of Crown of Iron
“I think it's a trap,” I say.
“What are you talking about?” asks a burly man with a long black beard. His lips curl under the coarse hair and his eyes radiate annoyance for my disruption.
“The Stigians are not just moving north from the lake. Another unit is coming through Case Meadow. They're going to rip through that village and ambush our soldiers.”
Leif looks at the area on the map and his brows furrow. “Even if their numbers are less than ours, we're no match for a surprise attack against Stigian warriors. They’ll force us to fight or back us into the lake. There's no way our people will make it out.” He rubs his jaw and studies the map. “Unless we bypass the village and sneak up on their forces coming in from the meadow.” He moves one wood-carved cluster of soldiers in a wide circle around the meadow. “Greer and the first three regiments can hold them back, and we will deploy another three regiments to the town to fight the Stigians coming from the north.”
Leif's plan is genius. Of course he would think of the defenseless and contrive a plan to keep them safe. He sees the entire picture, not just the battle but the people who could be affected by it.
The third officer, a thin, balding man with spectacles, shakes his head and grabs a leaf of parchment. He dips a pen in the ink jar on Leif's desk and vigorously writes.
“We need to send a runner to warn Greer,” says the burly officer.
All three men look at the soldier I brought with me and his shoulders slump. “I ran here from the meadow. I won't make it in time.”
“I will,” I say, jetting my hand in the air. “I've been to the area, and I have a horse. I can do it.”
“Elle,” Leif says, glaring a hole through me.
I square my shoulders and say to the other officers, “I want to do this.”
The burly man examines the soldier behind me before his skeptical gaze returns to me. Options are limited and time isn't on our side. Our forces will need all the soldiers possible to pull this off. Someone like me, who hasn't completed her training, is expendable. It can't be denied: I'm the best choice.
The older man nods and says, “Ride fast, soldier. Tonight, we show the Stigians they aren't the only clever bastards.”
Fourteen
Pressing my chest to Nortus' back, I sink my heels into his sides. His hooves kiss the ground with rapid claps, and the crisp air stings my cheeks and burns my eyes. Despite the tears streaming down my face, I grip to the reins and focus on the trail ahead. I'm desperate to reach the regiments before it's too late.
Time is both my friend and foe. With every second, I lessen the divide between me and the army, and they draw closer to the trap awaiting them. There were more experienced riders in the camp and soldiers who would hold their own better than me against the Stigians. But this is my army, my people, who I will one day vow to protect. I can’t risk leaving their fate in the hands of someone who doesn't wholeheartedly care about every single one of them.
Nortus slows as the ground shifts to soft grass and mud, and the smell of freshwater permeates the air. The calm surface of Lake Holly reflects the night sky, speckling it with stars. On the far end of the lake, shadows of horse-drawn wagons move toward a cluster of single-story structures. Warm gold lights illuminate the caravan's path while their wheels grind over pebbles. The army is closer to engaging in battle with the Stigians than I am to reaching them.
I spur Nortus forward, and he gallops through the sludge on thelake's bank. It would be simple to call out for the regiments to stop. The land is serene, and they would easily hear me. Therein lies the problem. My voice would carry so well the Stigians would know our intent to stop their plan. A simple task made impossible, leaving me with no choice but to catch up.
Panic rises in me when the wagons stop and the soldiers climb out of the backs, taking formation to march the rest of the way into the town. I don't let up on Nortus, racing for the rows of troops. The moment we’re in their ranks, I ask the first soldier I see where to find Greer. They point me to the front of the line where the colonel sits upon her horse alongside Ulric.
I steer Nortus next to the officers, drawing both their attention. Greer's eyes widen, and her cheeks burn red, anger radiating from her. Through gritted teeth, she says, “What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay at camp.”
“The Stigians are closing in on you from both sides,” I say, handing her the instructions from the strategy officers.
She skims the paper, crumples it, and dismounts her horse. “We move around the meadow on foot,” she says to Ulric before turning back to me. “Take my horse and wait with the wagons on the other side of the lake.”
I bite my lip, fighting back the urge to beg her to let me go with them, and take the reins from her. “Yes, Colonel.”
“It's for the best, Elle,” Ulric says, sparing me an understanding glance before motioning for another soldier to grab his horse.
I know they mean well, but it doesn't make turning my back on them or the town beyond any easier.
The soldier caring for Ulric's horse informs the wagon drivers of Greer's orders, and the rest of the regiments march into the cropping of trees behind the farming town. The wagons turn around, heading back the way they came, and the other riders and I fall behind them.
Unease creeps over me. I'm fleeing while the others fight. This is how it has always been. There are those who shed blood for our kingdom and those who comfortably enjoy the freedom they fight for. I'm tired of doing so little as they sacrifice so much. I want to fight.
I clench my teeth and squeeze the saddle's horn, struggling between following orders and doing what is right.
A chorus of roars resound through the tranquil surroundings, joined by the clatter of metal. My head whips toward the trees, where flashes of fire and blasts of wind explode from the leafy canopy. Two Stigian warriors onhorseback race onto the bank of the lake, and the soldiers next to me shout for us to run.
I pull Nortus' reins and draw my sword. My breath hitches as I size up our opponents. Not only are they clad in black leather and steel, but so are their horses. Dark cloths cover the lower half of the warriors' faces, leaving nothing but their pure black eyes on display.
