Sword point diplomacy 39

Travel was a lot faster with a noblewoman in the party. Marcel gave an appreciative rub to the neck of his borrowed horse, relishing the softness of sun-warmed hair under his palm.

Tiny Vivian was at the front of their group on a little pinto. She was still wearing her emerald gown, but she’d hitched the skirts up with a bit of leather to show off sensible trousers underneath and boots. She sat with an easy grace that told Marcel she’d spent a lot of time on horses.

He hadn’t, so he was something of a sack of potatoes on his friendly mare. It was fine. She didn’t seem bothered by the weight on her back.

They went on for hours until Kian eventually gave up and called for a break. He moved stiffly, jaw set in a way that told Marcel he was crabby about something. He didn’t waste any effort trying to figure out what that was.

The horses were tied to trees to rest and graze. The humans took their own break by stretching and laying out in the grass. Kian stalked off and came back with a refilled water flask. He opened his travel bag and unhappily ate a portion of hard tack.

Marcel copied him and then went to coo at his horse, who really was being such a good sport about things. The silly thing snorted at him and pressed her face into his hand.

“We’ll walk on another hour or so after this,” Vivian eventually said. Marcel glanced over to where she was perched on a tall rock, face resting on a palm. Her feet barely peeked out of the hem of her long skirts. “Then we should make camp for the night.”

“We could go further, couldn’t we?” Marcel frowned at her, feeling lines form on his face. “The horses aren’t so tired.”

“They’re not worn down yet,” Vivian admitted. “But we shall travel a full day tomorrow, and the day after. If we run them hard, they won’t make it.”

He let out a sigh and bowed to her wisdom on the matter. He opened his mouth to ask her about their route and saw the moment that she whipped her head up and to the left.

He followed the motion reflexively. That was the only reason he saw a violet shimmer in the air stop an arrow mid-flight.

A group of riders was cresting the hill in the direction they had come from. Who had come after them and why?

"Archer!" Marcel grabbed for his own weapon and then cursed. He didn't have his bow. His hand fell to the middling quality, simple blade that he'd been given as part of military kit. Not that it would do him any damn good at a distance –

"Thank you, my lady," Kian said.

The calm civility was bizarrely out of place. Marcel gave the knight an incredulous look.

"It is no trouble."

He whipped his head to the other side at her murmur.

“I’ll bring them in range.” Vivian lifted her hands with fingers slightly splayed. Her eyes went distant.

Kian rolled his shoulders and adjusted his footing. He was clearly getting ready.

What the hell? What the shit? Marcel pulled his sword out. His heart was thumping in his throat. He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but he could read the air.

Vivian let out a deep exhalation and pulled her hands in.

Horses screamed. Marcel screamed too, because five horses were rocketing towards them down the hill at speeds he’d never seen a horse move. Their riders started yelling as well. It was chaos. Kian looked at him and laughed.

Marcel couldn’t tear his eyes away from the horses. He ran out of air for terrified screaming.

The scene was absurd. He watched in disbelief as the poor animals galloped in air, kicking up stones, and still could not keep up with the pace that Vivian was reeling them in. It was ludicrous.

“And stop,” Vivian cheerfully said. Her fingers straightened so that her hands were facing the aggressors, palms out. “Come down, friends!” She huffed aggressively.

The horses came to an abrupt stop about a hundred paces away and panicked. One by one Vivian plucked at the air and riders began falling off their mounts while the horses screamed and kicked the air. One got stuck in his saddle and hung helplessly upside down.  

Marcel looked at Vivian and couldn’t quite pull his gaze away from the woman for a few desperately important seconds. The witch? Sorceress? This was mythical nonsense.

This was the most alive he’d seen her look. Sweat was rapidly forming in her hairline and beginning to run down her forehead. Her face was flushed with exertion and her blank expression traded for an unladylike grin.

Well, good for her.

Marcel joined Kian in running at their opponents. Two of them jumped down on their own power. They got ready to face the assault with an honestly impressive ability to deal with the unexpected change Vivian had wrought on the skirmish. Marcel admired that even as he hoped to kill them. He didn’t think he would have compartmentalized that nearly so well himself.

He and Kian both found an opponent. Marcel gritted his teeth and threw himself into the fray. He wasn’t a swordsman, really, but he had been trained to survive in close combat. He parried a blow and tried one of his own. It was deflected. They exchanged more. He saw the flash of movement in his side vision as Kian fought his own battle but there was no chance to look.

The other swordsman was better. Fuck. Marcel threw himself into it with everything that he had.

Kian came out of nowhere and slashed a devastating blow across the man’s lifted arm. He bellowed in pain and surprise. Marcel lunged forward to take advantage of the opening. Kian was already gone when Marcel looked up from the fresh corpse and found his next opponent. Shit.

Kian’s initial opponent was down. He was fighting with another. The remaining two had split apart and were shooting at Vivian from a distance. Surely that was hopeless with her powers–

He looked over to see that she was obviously slowing. She kept in motion rather than throwing up a sustained shield like what she had used to stop the first volley. It was obvious even from afar that her breathing was ragged and her whole body was shaking from effort.

Ah. Shit. They knew what they were doing, then.

He bolted for the closest archer. The woman saw him coming and wheeled to face him with a rictus scowl. She aimed at him. Holy shit. Marcel prepared to take a direct hit. She’d aim for his center mass. He had decent armor but the hit was going to pierce at this distance. If the chain managed to stop it, it would still do concussive damage. He steeled himself for it.

The woman fell.

That wasn’t right. She fell to the side in a graceless splits, as if her ankle had been violently pulled.

“Thank you!” Marcel bellowed. He didn’t know what the hell was going on but he knew manners. His opponent scrambled to get up, yanking her ankle desperately out of Vivian’s grip.

“You’re welcome!” Vivian hollered back. The archer jolted as she got free. Wild eyes faced down with Marcel as he barreled the last few steps to close the distance.

He reached the archer before she could take a shooting stance. She swiped at him with a dagger. It caught in his boot. He danced away and cut her down. Kian screamed in the distance. Had he been hit?

She fell face down without ever getting up from her knees.

Marcel wheeled to face where he remembered the other archer to be.

Ah. Kian cut through the man's bow. The wood fell to the side.

Marcel winced in shared pain at an archer’s nightmare. Then he flinched a little harder when Kian’s next blow took the poor fucker’s head straight off. His stomach twisted.

The clearing fell silent.

His ragged breathing was the loudest sound. Marcel forced his breath to calm. He swallowed hard and tried to compartmentalize what had just happened.  Kian was already cleaning his blade off with businesslike strokes of a cloth.

“Good show,” Vivian said. She wiped sweat off her forehead with the underside of her sleeve. “Gods.” She shook her head a little. “Who do you think they were after?” Kian’s sword made a click as he slid it home into the scabbard.

…That was a very good question.

“I think they were ours, nominally,” Kian said. He knelt thoughtfully and began digging one handed through the headless archer’s belongings. Marcel had to look away. “Yes, they're kingsmen,” Kian confirmed. “Clearly not queensmen, as it were.”

Vivian let out a curse in a language that Marcel didn't know. “That's disappointing.” She sighed. She shook her hands out as if they were pained. “Most likely a move against Rose’s succession?”

“That is reasonable.” Marcel shakily put his sword away. He looked down at the archer he'd killed. It was ghoulish. But he took a steadying breath and started tugging her arrows free. The bow was a little short for him and he didn't know the draw weight, but it had to be better for him than a sword.

Kian sighed. “We should assume that there will be more resistance.”

Marcel nodded and managed to unstick his throat enough to add in, “And that they know who was sent, and where.”

Marcel felt wildly out of his depth as his companions so calmly discussed the situation. Was this kind of brutality and faithlessness normal here?

“Tedious,” Vivian declared, and Marcel had to assume that it wasn't so strange after all. “We will have to change our approach and our clothes.”