Casket of Souls

Casket of Souls by Lynn Flewelling Page A

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Authors: Lynn Flewelling
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy
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widow’s peak, and her linen shirt hung more loosely on her than it had when they resumed the war in the spring. Myrhini, the older of the two, didn’t look any better. Beka supposed she didn’t, either.
    “What do you have to report?” asked Klia.
    “I estimate a force of at least three hundred, Commander. Half of it cavalry and the rest foot.”
    Klia raised an eyebrow at that. “
You
estimate? Don’t tell me you went out yourself again?”
    “It was my turn, Commander,” Beka replied. It was a matter of pride to endure the same dangers as her troop. In return, her riders had followed her through fire and hell. Klia wasn’t one to talk, either. She’d done the same as she came up through the officers’ ranks, and was equally respected by those who served under her.
    Klia took another bite of beef and stared down at thetrampled grass that served as carpet. “We’ve got to take that ford before Phoria arrives. If we can pull this off, the queen’s army can push all the way to the Folcwine in a matter of days. And if we take one of the major fords there—” Her eyes shone at the prospect. “Then we can finally take on the Overlord’s regiment.”
    Beka shared her commander’s cautious excitement. For the first time in years, the possibility of victory glimmered before them.
    “Can we take the horses through the forest?” asked Myrhini.
    “I don’t advise it,” Beka replied. “The trees are thick enough that we’d get strung out and make enough noise for the Plenimarans to hear us coming.”
    “If the horses go south along the edge of it, it’s no more than a mile ’til it ends, close to the edge of the enemy camp,” said Nyal.
    “Beka, did you get a sense of the layout of their encampment?” asked Myrhini.
    “It was hard to tell in the dark, but I think they’ve set out the tents in lines, well away from the trees, roughly in a square.”
    Going to the map table, Beka took up a wax tablet and stylus and sketched the camp, with the ruined house and the bank of the Silver River. “They’re caught between the trees and the river, Commander, and the horses are corralled here, on the northern edge. If we can push them to the river, they’ll have no choice but to fan out into a thinner line.”
    Klia considered that for a moment, then nodded. “I want you to take your troop through the forest on foot here. Send your Urghazi Turma to scatter the enemy’s horses before the Plenimarans can get to them. I’ll take Captain Anri and Danos’s riders south around the wood, mounted. Nyal, I want you with me.”
    “Yes, Commander.” Nyal exchanged a quick look of regret with Beka. Separated again.
    “Myrhini, pass the word. We march at once,” Klia ordered. “Beka, Nyal, you’re dismissed.”
    Beka gave her a grateful nod; Klia was demanding, but not unkind.
    Outside Nyal took her hands in his. “I hope the Plenimarans provide us with a good supper.”
    Beka forced a weary smile. Neither of them ever said good-bye or spoke of the very real possibility that each parting could be their last.
    It had been easy for them when she was stationed with Klia in Aurënen. Several others in the turma had taken ’faie lovers; there was no rule against it, and in fact it had been encouraged. Half-breed children might carry some of the vigor of ’faie magic—something that was growing thin in Skala. Fewer wizard-born children were presented at the Orëska House every year.
    Not that Beka had any desire for children. Not yet. She loved Nyal with all her heart, but she lived to serve Klia. Nyal understood that, and had solved the problem by volunteering to become a scout when they returned to Skala. She’d married the handsome ’faie at her parents’ home at Watermead, then had gone back to soldiering with him in the spring, much to her mother’s disappointment. Her father had understood better. She and Micum shared the same restless spirit. He had Seregil and Alec, and the Watchers; she had the

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