Blood in the Water by Juliet E. McKenna Read Free Book Online Page B

his teeth. Snatching a thrown lance from the air, he ran the Carlusian through.
    Aremil lost sight of the maimed man in the mêlée. His own horse finally slowed, along with the riders around him. Once they could see daylight through the arch of the gate they entered the town. Their horses picked a careful path through liveried bodies, snorting at blood trickling in the gutters. A dog howled when a dismounted Dalasorian used the flat of her blade to beat it away from a corpse it was sniffing.
    We did it. We took Ashgil, and so easily. The dukes won’t know what’s befallen them; we’ll win this war so quickly.
    Jettin’s exultation rang through memories so vivid they could be Aremil’s own. He was acutely aware of the contrast with Tathrin’s recollections of Sharlac’s fall. He looked around to reassure himself all the dead men wore militia colours. To his relief, the townsfolk were clustered in alleys and doorways. Ashgil had fallen and there had been no massacre, not this time.
    “ Count what’s left before what’s lost, once the storm’s passed by.”
    Behind the old proverb, he could feel Jettin’s irritation at his anxiety. Why couldn’t he just celebrate their success? If innocents had died, such tragic accidents were unavoidable. Didn’t he want to see Lescar free?
    “Master Aremil?” It was Dagaran.
    Aremil gritted his teeth. He concentrated on feeling every crease and scuff in the leather-topped desk with his fingertips. He even welcomed the cramps in his wasted legs as he wrenched sensation and emotion free of the younger man’s Artifice.
    “Is the town secure?” he demanded.
    “ Tied up tighter than a miser’s purse! ”
    Now Aremil saw the marketplace again, as clearly as if he stood next to Jettin. Cowering Carlusians were approaching the mounted clan lords, their hands spread wide to show they carried no weapon. He could see the numb shock on their faces.
    Militiamen faced mounted mercenaries from time to time. But if Lescari rode into battle, such companies would dismount after the initial clash, to fight hand to hand with sword and mace and shield. That was how such encounters went, as far as these Ashgil men knew. They had never faced mounted lancers, mounted archers, with horses as skilled in battle as their riders.
    Aremil fervently hoped all Captain-General Evord’s innovations were going to prove so successful in this campaign.
    Then he saw Dalasorians in their brightly embroidered tunics going in and out of houses, carrying sacks and barrels.
    “The town isn’t to be plundered,” he said sharply. “Remember the captain-general’s orders!”
    “ They’re only replenishing supplies used on their journey. ”
    Was Jettin telling the truth? Aremil had no hope of reading his innermost thoughts now his exultant recollections of the battle were over.
    “Very well, as long as that’s all they do.”
    Aremil heard a rattle of parchment as Dagaran sorted through the maps piled up on the desk.
    “Please ask him to find Rega Taszar. Ask how many troops he will need to keep with him to hold the town until I can organise a militia.”
    Aremil dutifully relayed the Soluran lieutenant’s request. Now he was more fully in control of his own Artifice, he could see Jettin clearly. The youth was filthy with sweat and dust, still flushed with the thrill of the charge.
    Aremil’s own hands were still trembling. He’d never imagined he’d enjoy galloping on a horse. When he hadn’t known how it felt, his inability to ride was merely one mild regret among many. Now he struggled to curb his frustration with the infirmities that denied him such delight. Artifice proved a double-edged blessing once again.
    “ I see you need a moment to gather yourself. I’ll tell you what Rega Taszar says at the next chime.”
    With the faintest echo of distaste, Jettin swiftly withdrew his enchantment. As the weaker adept, Aremil had no hope of holding him. The vision of distant Ashgil faded. Dizzy, Aremil