TRANCE TOWER GARRISON

by Fiona Patton

The Ice Wall Mountains were ablaze with color. The pink-and-orange glow of the setting sun crowned the tops of the pine trees and feathered across the foothills and plains like wisps of fire. It settled over the slate roofs of Trance Tower Garrison, the northernmost outpost of King Valdemar’s young realm, and gleamed off the pikes and helmets of the surrounding force which had poured through the mountain passes at the first hint of spring.

Standing on the eastern ramparts, Corporal Norma Anzie of Gray Squad, one of Trance Tower’s senior sentinels, spat toward the ground.

“That’s one big friggin’ army,” she noted sourly.

The gray-haired man standing beside her gave a brief nod. “Yep.”

“And it looks like they’re plannin’ to stay.”

“Yep.”

“A long time.”

“Me’be.”

She glared over at him. “Don’t be strainin’ your voice box now, Ernie.”

He shrugged. “Me’be not so long,” he elaborated after a moment.

“How do you figure?”

“The King’ll send help.”

“Only if he gets word.”

“Bessie got through.”

“You don’t know that.”

His eyes narrowed. “She got through,” he growled.

Raising her hands, Norma dropped the subject. After the first trickle of soldiers had come over the mountains, the garrison commander had sent his lieutenant galloping for the capital. As the trickle’d become a flood, he’d sent half a dozen more. All but one, Ernie’s niece, Bess Taws, had been returned to them as a headless corpse thrown down before the gateincluding the lieutenant. Bess was their only hope but, after nearly a month with no sign of aid, only Ernie still believed she’d made it through. Her expression grim, Norma squinted southward.

“How long do you figure it takes to get to Haven?” she asked.

Ernie shrugged. “Ridin’ hard, eight, me’be nine days.”

“Less if she could get a boat down the Terilee River.”

“Yep.”

“How long to raise a relief force?”

“Dunno. Depends.”

“A couple of weeks?”

“More like a couple of months, me’be.”

With a scowl, Norma peered up at the tiny line of enemy troops bringing supplies over the mountains. With the harsh northern winter just past, Trance Tower’s own stores were low. If it took another month, it wouldn’t matter if Bess had gotten through or not. The garrison would be out of food.

“You’d think there’d have been a paymaster or a supply wagon or somethin’ come from Haven before now, anyway,” she snarled.

“Me’be there has been,” Ernie answered in an ominous voice.

As one, they glanced toward the main gate. Neither could see the dark, fly-covered bloodstains from where they stood but that didn’t stop them from looking.

“How long before they’d be due back do you figure someone might go lookin’ for them?”

“Dunno. A while, I guess.”

Returning her attention to the force below, Norma shook her head. “With a friggin’ army that big,” she muttered, “you’d think somebody would’ve noticed it by now.”

Ernie just shrugged.

The sound of shouting pulled their attention back inside the garrison.

“What the…?”

From their vantage point they could see a knot of people behind the west barracks, shouting atcheering onNorma amended, two struggling figures. There was a glint of golden hair as one had his head knocked back from a well-placed blow, and Ernie swore.

“Garet!”

“Blast! You know that means Andy.”

Ernie was already halfway to the stairs.

“Little … I told him … come on,” he puffed angrily.

*

Andy ducked a wild swing, drove his fists into the other youth’s unprotected right side in a quick flurry of blows, then danced back with a tight smile. Although Garet was older and larger than he, no one at Trance Tower was faster. Around him, the growing crowd began to chant his name, and the smile snapped off. Time to finish this before the noise drew the wrath of the sergeant-at-arms down on them. He pressed forward.

Sixteen-year-old Ander Harrow had been born in the garrison. His mother had died in childbirth and his father and three others had been caught in a rock-slide when he was nine. Jem and Karl Harrow’s remaining squad-mates had raised the boy together, bringing him into the Guard at twelve, protecting him, teaching him, but mostly just trying to keep him out of trouble.

Garet Barns had joined the garrison two years before, and although they were not friends, at eighteen he was the closest to Andy’s own age, which meant that when Andy was bored or just itching to cause mischief he either sought Garet out to manipulate him into some scheme, or goad him into a fight. Garet had a quick temper that could always be counted on to flare up with the right words and Andy always knew the right words.

Now, his blue eyes narrowed, Garet watched the other youth weave back and forth in a parody of feints and counter feints, then struck out. His fist connected right where he planned. Andy went flying into the crowd.

The blood on his face gleaming as brightly as his dark eyes, Andy showed his teeth to his opponent in recognition of the blow, then leaped up, only to be jerked off his feet once again.

“What the blue blazes do you think you’re playin’ at!”

Her fist wrapped in the back of his shirt, Norma shook him like a dog with a rat in its teeth.

“Haven’t we told you half a hundred times, no more fightin’?”

Behind them, Ernie stepped in front of Garet, who simply wiped the blood from his nose with an even expression. Andy gave Norma a disarming smile.

“It was just a boxing match.”

“Bollocks!”

“Really. Something to pass the time and keep fit, right Garet?”

Andy turned his wide-eyed gaze on the other youth who just shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

“I’ll show you fit, I’ll toss you off the north wall. Then we’ll see how bloody fit you are with half them bastards out there chasin’ you.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

All eyes turned to see the sergeant-at-arms leaning against the barracks, his expression dark. “Don’t you lot have somewhere else to be?” he asked with dangerous politeness.

The area was suddenly empty of spectators.

He turned back to the two combatants. “Barns, K.P. Harrow, latrines. Don’t,” he held up one thick finger as Andy made to protest, “even think about speakin’, just git.”

When the two youths were out of earshot, Norma gave the sergeant a sideways glance.

“That was kinda lenient for you, wasn’t it, Lom?”

He shrugged. “There’s little enough to keep up morale these days, might as well make use of what distractions we’ve got. Keep him outta my sight for a while, though, I might have a change of heart.”

“We’ll put him on night watch,” Ernie answered. “That should tire him out some.”

“Good idea. Barns can take a turn as well.”

*

That night Andy stood on the north wall staring out at the nearly full moon. The afternoon had been a partial success, he’d blown off some steam, satisfied himself that Garet was no better a fighter than he, and stirred up everyone’s blood a bit. Since the enemy had bottled up Trance Tower, the entire garrison was walking around like they’d already lost. The air of doom and gloom was getting thick enough to cut with a knife. Eyes narrowed, he glared down at the surrounding campfires. So they were temporarily cut off from the rest of Valdemar, so supplies were tight. Bessie would be back any day with an army at her back and then they’d send this lot packing back over the mountains double quick.

His stomach growled, and he rubbed it in rueful acknowledgment of its point. All right, so they were in a tight spotthe quartermaster already had them down to half rations but they weren’t beat yet, not by a long shot. The enemy wasn’t so tough. If they were, they’d have taken Trance Tower already instead of just sitting out there with their thumbs up…a movement below the wall made him stiffen. He stared into the darkness for a long time, but eventually relaxed. It was probably just a night-bird. He returned his attention to the enemy.

Nobody knew who they were. The standards and banners they carried were unfamiliar and the language their single envoy had spoken was gibberish even to the commander; although the body he’d brought with him had spoken his message clearly enough: surrender Trance Tower.

Andy spat over the wall in unconscious imitation of Norma. Not in this lifetime or any other, he swore silently. His parents had died for this garrison and no bunch of pike-wielding sons of whoevers were going to defile their memories. They could sit out there until moss grew over them. Trance Tower would never surrender no matter how hungry they got.

His stomach rumbled mournfully.

“Aw, shut up.”

Leaning against the parapet, he stared out past the dark bulk of the surrounding army. The moon was low in the sky, shining down on the lightly wooded foothills. He’d hunted rabbits in those hills with Phen Royn and Harn Anzie every year since he was ten years old. They should have been out half a dozen times already this spring instead of standing on the walls watching the enemy move about like they owned the place. Andy grimaced. Their hunters had probably already stripped the hills of rabbits. They were probably sitting around their campfires right now eating roast rabbit and rabbit stew and rabbit pie and…

Something white flashed in the distant trees.

He frowned.

Ground lightning?

It flashed again and, risking arrow-shot from below, he leaned forward. Something was moving in the hills beyond the enemy, moving fast.

He saw it again some twenty yards west of where he’d spotted it the first time. Then again a few moments later farther still. It sparkled in the moonlight for just an instant., its half hidden form vaguely familiar, then it disappeared again.

“What’cha you doin’, boy?”

He jumped. Spinning about, he shot a glare at Phen, who held out his canteen with a chuckle.

“Lookin’ at somethin’,” he growled back.

“What? Someone takin’ a piss?” Phen risked a glance over the edge.

“No. Somethin’ strange. There.” He pointed. “Where?”

“Past the troops to the west. Somethin’s movin’ out there like it’s circlin’ around us.”

Phen peered into the darkness.

“I don’t see nothin’.” He turned with a grin. “You imaginin’ mountain cats again?”

Three years ago Andy had been certain there’d been a mountain cat stalking the garrison flocks. He’d even found tracks, but they’d turned out to belong to a particularly big jackrabbit. Phen had never let him forget it. Of course, now the enemy had the flocks as well.

“This was no mountain cat,” Andy replied hotly. “It was white.”

“Late snow drift.”

“Snow drifts don’t move. There, in the underbrush. Tell me you didn’t see that?”

Phen leaned forward again. “Maybe.” He shook his head. “It was probably just an owl or somethin’. Anyway you’re relieved, go get some sleep.”

“Shouldn’t I report it?”

Phen shrugged. “Go ahead, if you want everyone to say you’re seein’ giant, sheep killin’, jackrabbit mountain cats again.”

“Drop dead.”

“Just givin’ you a friendly warning.”

“Yeah, sure.” With some reluctance, Andy turned away but, as he did, the flash of white caught his eyes again, another twenty yards to the west. Something was out there, it was circling them, and it wasn’t no owl.

*

He spotted it again the next night, this time to the east. Throughout his shift he watched it wink in and out of the trees, moving incredibly quickly, east to west and back again. Then, just before Phen relieved him, it crested the top of a small hill, rose up, and pawed the air with its forelegs, silver hooves gleaming in the moonlight.

*

“It’s a horse.”

Andy made his announcement to Phen as they lined up for chow the next morning.

“Not a mountain cat, then.”

“I said it’s a horse.”

“Probably one of theirs set out on a hobble to eat grass.”

“It wasn’t hobbled.”

“Maybe it escaped, then.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then I guess it musta been a ghost horse.”

“Aw, shut up, Phen.”

*

Ernie was no more help when he told him that afternoon.

“Mountain pony,” he pronounced.

“Aren’t they usually brown?”

“Yep.”

“Have you ever seen a white mountain pony?”

“Nope.”

“Then it can’t be a mountain pony.”

“Must be a ghost horse, then. Or me’be a mountain cat, eh?”

Andy gave up.

*

He watched the horse pace back and forth from west to east for another full shift, then finally reported it to the sergeant-at-arms.

*

The older man frowned thoughtfully.

“How long you been seein’ it?”

“Three nights now.”

“And you’re sure it’s a horse?”

Andy clamped his mouth closed on an imprudent reply. “Yes, Sarge.”

“Hm. Garet Barns thought he saw somethin’ white to the east last night as well.”

“Garet?”

“Yeah. Your fightin’ partner’s been on the south wall these last three nights now.” He stood. “Well, there’s nothin’ for it. I’d better go see for myself. You’re sure it’s not a mountain cat this time?”

Andy snapped his teeth together. “No, Sarge.”

*

That night the sergeant stood watch beside him as the white horse flashed between the trees. Finally it crested the hill again, pawing the air in agitation before disappearing once again.

“It`s so fast,” Andy whispered in awe. “I’ve never seen anything move so fast.”

“Hm. Funny how the enemy hasn’t spotted it,” the older man mused.

“You don’t figure it’s really a ghost horse, do you, Sarge?” Andy asked, trying to mask the uneasiness in his voice.

“No.”

“So, it wouldn’t be there to…” He trailed off.

“To what?”

“Well…my da, he died in the mountains. Maybe it…you know.”

“Maybe it’s come to take you off to join him?”

“Maybe.”

“No.” The sergeant gave him what amounted to a reassuring show of teeth. “Your da was a good man and a brave soldier, but he’d have rather faced that lot down there single-handed than get up on the back of a horse, ghost or otherwise. And he sure wouldn’t have sent one for you. No, that there’s something else altogether.”

“What?”

“Well, that remains to be seen.” He turned. “Keep your eyes on the enemy,” he ordered tersely. “They’re a lot more dangerous than…whatever that is out there. You understand?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

His jaw tight, the sergeant headed for the south ramparts.

*

By the next morning everyone wanted to hear about “Andy’s latest mountain cat.” Finally he’d taken a swing at Mac Rellden and they’d backed off a little. Leaving him in the tender care of Norma and Ernie, Phen took their bowls to the chow line.

*

“So, what’s this slop s’posed to be?”

Norma’s brother Ham glared at his bowl. The garrison cook shot him a resentful look back.

“It’s beans, mister, and you should be glad to get ‘em. Stores are running low. Pretty soon you’ll be looking at yer boots and wondering how to I can cook ‘em up.”

Phen laughed. “That would break the siege double quick. We all die from the fumes.”

Ham glared at him as everyone about them laughed.

“Hey, heads up, the Commander.”

There was a hushed silence over the chow line as Commander Dravin strode across the parade ground. Those seated made to stand, but he waved them down again.

A tall man in his late twenties, Dravin had been the late Commander Beckwin’s lieutenant for four years before an infected tooth had taken the old man to his reward. He was not an imposing officer, but rather one who carried an air of practical confidence that inspired the same confidence in others. Today his eyes were shadowed with fine worry lines, but he smiled easily as Phen and Harn saluted.

“How’s the food?”

“The same, sir,” Phen replied. “Have some?”

“No thank you, Mister Royn, I’ve already eaten. The last of the turnips I’m afraid, privilege of rank. But ask me again tomorrow.”

“No sign of relief column yet, sir?” Ham asked bluntly.

“None as yet, Corporal, but Bess Taws got through. King Valdemar will be here any day now. And then there’ll be roast lamb and fresh bread instead of beans and turnips,” he said loudly his voice pitched to take in the gathered soldiers. They grinned back at him, raising their spoons in salute. “Have you seen Ander Harrow?” he asked in a quieter tone.

Phen nodded. “Yes, sir. Andy!”

When the youth came forward, the commander indicated the north wall with a turn of his head. “Walk with me.”

*

“It’s a Companion.”

“Sir?”

“A Companion, Mister Harrow. One of the Saviors of Valdemar who came in answer to the prayers of the King himself.”

Andy squinted up at his commander. “I’ve heard stories of ‘em, sir, but don’t they always travel with Heralds?”

“They do.”

“I didn’t see no Herald, sir.”

“No.”

“Do you think…they killed its Herald?”

“No. If its Herald had been killed, it wouldn’t be pacing the garrison. It would have returned to the Companion’s Field if it hadn’t died as well. No, I believe it’s here to choose a Herald, Mister Harrow. It just can’t get close enough to do it.” The Commander stared into space for a moment. “Did you get any kind of feeling when you first saw it?” he asked finally.

“Sir?”

“A feeling, like it was calling to you or trying to draw you away from the garrison?”

Andy glanced up at him in alarm. “No, sir.”

“No sense of familiarity or purpose?”

“No, sir.”

“Hm.” His gray eyes cleared. “Never mind. I’m sure we’ll find out who it’s come for soon enough. Thank you, Mister Harrow.”

“Sir.”

“Well, if it’s come to choose a Herald out of this garrison its got bloody poor timing,” Norma pronounced a few minutes later.

“And bloody poor taste if it wants Andy here,” Phen added with a laugh.

“No one said it wanted me,” Andy snapped back with unusual vehemence. “It could want anyone.”

“They usually Choose the young,” Ham answered thoughtfully, digging a grubby bit of wood from behind his ear. After a moment’s scrutiny, he began to pick his back teeth with it. “And you’re the youngest we’ve got,” he finished.

“There’s Garet. He’s even seen it. And Tara’s only two years older’n him.”

“None of them have your sparkling personality, though.”

“Shut up, Phen.”

“Hey, really. It’ll look into your eyes, then carry you away from all of this to Haven with its soft beds and clean sheets and you’ll forget all about us.”

“I said, shut up!”

Ernie shot him a curious glance but Norma just shook her head. “Don’t you wanna be a Herald, boy?”

Andy jerked to his feet. “Want’s got nuthin’ to do with it,” he almost shouted. “It’s not me, all right!”

Norma made to answer, but Ernie laid his hand on her arm.

“Sure, lad. It’s all right.”

*

He sought him out an hour later. Andy was sitting with his back against the west barracks, stropping his dagger hard enough to raise sparks. Hitching up his pants, the older man squatted down beside him.

“So, what’s what?”

“Nuthin’.”

“Bollocks.”

“Really, nuthin’. I just don’t want everyone on my back when it turns out it wants someone else.”

“Why would it want someone else?”

“Because there’s dozens it could want: Garet, Tara,Mac, maybe even you.” His tone was challenging, but Ernie just snorted.

“Doubt that, somehow.”

“Still. For all we know it might even want one of them.” He jerked his head past the wall.

“None of them’s from Valdemar.”

“So?”

“So, it matters. No boy, it’s one of us. An’ if it’s you, it’s you, and you go.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what your folks’d want. Neither one of them ever shrank from their duty, and you’ll not either. We’ll miss you and you’ll miss us, but you’ll go.”

Andy glared at him resentfully but didn’t debate the unusually long speech. He just dove the dagger into its sheath and stood up.

“Doesn’t matter anyway, does it? I can’t get to it and it can’t get to me.”

Ernie gave him a neutral look.

“Me’be.”

*

The next night everyone wanted to see “Andy’s Companion.” They crowded the walls and betting was brisk with two to one odds on Andy, three to one on Garet, five to one on Tara, and ten to one on Mac. Someone even placed a bet on the garrison cook with the hope he’d be taken away. Finally, the sergeant chased them off. Betting continued in the barracks and across the parade ground and discussion was heated on how to bring the Companion and its new Herald together. Most favored a break-out fight with the four hopefuls in the middle, some wanted to sneak out in the middle of the night, and Phen suggested building a catapult and throwing first Andy, then the other three, over the walls, one at a time. Both Tara and Mac took the teasing well, and even Garet unbent long enough to reply, that as long as Andy went first, it was all right with him. Andy, however, refused to be drawn into the joke.

He’d been quiet and withdrawn all day, spending much of his time alone. At supper he answered Norma’s questions with grunts and ignored Phen completely. When it came time for his shift, he took the stairs like he was climbing to the gallows. As the moon rose, he watched the illusive creature that might turn his life upside down flit back and forth through the trees, then turned away.

The next morning, Norma and Ernie went to see the commander.

“It’s about that Companion, sir,” Norma began. “Yes?”

“Well, sir, we was wondering…” She glanced at Ernie who widened his eyes expectantly at her.

“The thing is, sir,” she continued, “the sergeant-at-arms, he says they, the Companions, are smart, that they can talk to each other and to their Heralds like.”

“Yes.”

“So we was wondering why, if it is a Companion and all, and if it’s so smart, how come it’s been pacing around the garrison for four days instead of high-tailing itself off to get help. We could sure use the help and that would bring it to its Chosen a lot faster.”

Commander Dravin leaned back thoughtfully. “As I understand it, Corporal, the Companions are extremely…single-minded when they search for their Chosen. It would likely be totally abhorrent to it to leave once it had located that Chosen, even to get help.”

“Right, sir, that’s what we figured. Also, the sergeant-at-arms, he says that they’re magical, that they know things, so maybe, it knows something about us.”

“Meaning?”

“That maybe it knows we’re gonna bring its Chosen to it.”

The Commander’s eyes narrowed.

“Go on.”

“Well, sir, the thing is, we know it’s here for one of us, and most of us figure it’s Andy, him or one of the other three under twenty-five. Also…” she glanced at Ernie.

“Also?” the Commander prodded.

“Also,” Ernie answered, “though I’d like nuthin’ more than to believe my Bessie got through, the truth is she’d have reached Haven long before now, and the King would have got word back to us somehow, if only to keep our spirits up.”

“Don’t you think, sir?” Norma prodded.

The commander looked away for just a moment, then back, his expression weary. “Yes.”

“And we’re running out of food, sir. This time a month from now, we’ll be in a desperate place, and they’ll be that much stronger. So,” Norma’s eyes brightened. “We had a thought, see. The garrison’s at full strength now, decently fed and itchin’ for a fight. You won’t ever find us more determined than right now. We’ve got it into our heads, all of us, to see this Companion and one of our own matched up. So, we take the fight outside, all of us, in one mad rush, and we bring that Companion its Chosen. The enemy’ll never know what hit ‘em.”

The commander smiled faintly. “You realize they outnumber us at least five to one, Corporal? That most of us would never survive this mad rush?”

“At least we’d go down fightin’, sir, and we know, too, that even if we do beat ‘em this time, they’ll be back with reinforcements. That’s why it’s so important to get word to King Valdemar. We figured a Companion’d have the best chance of anyone to get through, I mean It’s been dancin’ about their perimeter for nearly a week now and they ain’t noticed it yet.”

“True.”

“And besides,” Ernie added, “a Herald’d be a fine legacy for Trance Tower, don’t you think, sir?”

Commander Dravin glanced from one old veteran to the other, then nodded slowly.

“Yes, I do.”

The Commander sent for Andy, Garet, Tara, and Mac an hour later. He came straight to the point.

“We’re going to attack the enemy at dawn tomorrow,” he said bluntly. “With everything we’ve got. Once outside, the four of you have one objective only, regardless of who might fall around you, to find that Companion. When you do, I don’t care which of you is Chosen, you’re to make for Haven at once, all of you. Obviously the one riding will quickly outstrip the others, but I want you all heading south at double time, is that clear?”

The four glanced hesitantly at each other.

“But shouldn’t the others join the fight after one of us is Chosen, sir?” Andy asked. “You’ll need all the swords you can get.”

“Maybe so, but those are my orders, Mister Harrow.”

“But…sir, what if it doesn’t choose any of us,” Tara asked.

“Then it’s up to the Companion to find its Chosen on its own. We can’t line up for it, can we?” No, sir.”

“Whatever happens, the four of you are to make for Haven, period. Someone has to get through.”

“Yes, sir.”

That night the five remaining members of Gray Squad stood on the north wall together, watching the future of Trance Tower flit gracefully between the trees. Is movements were blindingly fast, one minute appearing to the east, the next to the west, but somehow it seemed less agitated tonight, as if it knew the decision they’d made.

Word of the morning’s attack had spread quickly and all along the walls, the garrison watched the Companion move in reverent silence. Finally Phen stirred faintly.

“Is it my imagination or has it come closer than it was?”

Ernie nodded. “It has.”

“It sure is pretty.”

“Yep.”

“Think we should give Andy here a bath first thing tomorrow? We can’t hardly have a grubby little scrub like him representin’ Trance Tower like that, now can we?”

“Leave him be, Phen,” Norma admonished. “Tonight’s not the time for teasin’.” She turned. “You got the drink, Ham?”

“Yeah.”

“Get it out, then.”

Ham pulled a dark, brown bottle from his pack. He uncorked it in one swift motion, then passed it over. Norma held it up and the smell of brandy wafted out on the breeze to tickle against their nostrils.

“Compliments of the commander,” she said. “Now, to us, eh? For years of loyal service, every one of us, and to Jem and Karl. They’d have been proud of the job we did on their boy whatever happens in the mornin’.” She took a deep drink, then passed it to Ernie.

“To duty. Ham?”

“To Ander Harrow. Phen?”

The younger man smiled. “To mountain cats, and to Companions.”

Finally the bottle passed to Andy. He held it cradled in his hands for a log time until Norma nudged him.

“C’mon, boy, finish the toast.”

Andy held the bottle up, feeling the liquid inside slosh about inside. “To Trance Tower Garrison,” he said thickly. “I never thought I’d…” he stopped, his jaw working, “I never thought I’d have to leave it, but if I do, I will.” He took an abrupt drink, then turned away so the others couldn’t see his face.

“Good enough,” Ernie answered.

*

The next day dawned cool and damp. The cook doled out the last of the potatoes fried up with the last of the mutton, then the garrison lined up, weapons ready, facing the main gate. Commander Dravin sat on his horse before them, his swords drawn. He didn’t speak, just cast his gaze across the faces of his soldiers as if memorizing their features, then nodded once. The sergeant-at-arms gave the order, the gate was flung open, and Trance Tower Garrison attacked.

*

The enemy was surprised, but not for long. It rallied quickly and then it was hand-to-hand combat on the northern plain.

Protected at the center of the Gray Squad, Andy moved as fast as he could for the foothills. Somewhere out there he knew the others were doing the same, ringed by a circle of swords and spears. They made three hundred yards, then four, then five, before by sheer weight of numbers the enemy penetrated their defenses. Ham was the first to fall. Then Phen. When Norma went down, Andy leaped forward, but a great ax-wielding man jumped between them and, with a scream, Andy closed with him. He never saw Ernie take the blow aimed for his back, but he heard him fall.

The battle raged unabated throughout the morning. Trance Tower had something to fight for now and they broke wave after wave of enemy troops sent against them. In the face of their ferocity, the enemy began to falter, and when a white flash entered the fray, kicking and slashing with hooves like silver lightning, they broke and ran.

The cry went up, “For the Herald!” as Commander Dravin led Trance Tower Garrison after them.

Two hundred yards from the foothills, Andy sank to his knees in relief.

It seemed like hours later than he managed to struggle to his feet and survey the damage though it was really only a few moments. Ham was dead, Ernie was dying, and Phen was so badly wounded that he probably wouldn’t last the day, but what was probably worse, Tara and Mac lay together on the northernmost edge of the battlefield. They’d almost made it to the hills. Almost.

Breathing hard, Andy knelt beside Norma. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed her bloodied fingers until her eyelids fluttered open.

“Did we beat ‘em?” she asked hoarsely.

He nodded, his gaze blurred by tears. “Yeah.”

“Then…what are you waitin’ for? Git.”

“I can’t leave you like this.”

“I’ll mend. Takes more than the likes…of them to put an Anzie in her grave. I said, git.”

There was a whicker behind them and Andy turned slowly.

Twenty paces away the Companion stood, staring at him with its brilliant blue eyes. This close, it was dazzingly white in the sunlight and he could barely look at it without squinting. He moved forward.

The Companion and the Guardsman looked into each other’s eyes for a long time, and then Andy’s mouth quirked up.

“I told them it wasn’t me,” he whispered, his tone a combination of relief and disappointment.

The Companion turned its attention away, sweeping its bight gaze over the battlefield, clearly searching, then turned back to stare into Andy’s face once again.

He nodded his understanding. “Yes,” he said, laying one weary hand on its back. “I’ll help you find that Herald of yours.”

*

They reached Garet Barns a few moments later. He was lying on his back, his eyes wide with shock, his hands pressed tight against his side. Blood seeped through his uniform tunic to pool darkly beneath him. His face was ashen, but when he looked up into the Companion’s eyes, a bit of the color returned.

Andy shook his head. “Shoulda known.” He knelt. “C’mon, lemme see it.”

His gaze still locked on the Companion’s eyes, Garet allowed the other youth to examine the wound.

“It’s not terrible,” Andy pronounced after a minute. Taking off his own tunic, he used his knife to cut his shirt into strips, then bound up the wound. “All right, let’s get you up. That lot won’t keep runnin’ all day.” Arms wrapped about the other’s chest, he drew Garet to his feet. The Companion knelt and somehow Andy managed to get him onto its back. It stood carefully. Then, one hand holding the other youth by the belt, Andy nodded.

“Let’s go.”

They made their way slowly across the battlefield, careful not to step on any of the wounded. Friend and foe alike watched them go in silence, and the ones that could, saluted as they passed.

They reached the south road without incident. Still shocky, Garet rode without speaking and, deep in his own thoughts, Andy hardly noticed his surroundings until a white blur flashed between them and a stand of pine trees. Looking up, Andy stared straight into a pair of brilliant sapphire eyes. The world fell away beneath the intensity of its gaze and all he could think to say was, “Oh. There were two of you.”

The second Companion whickered softly. After a few moments it nudged him gently. Then it nudged him harder.

:Chosen?:

The first Companion pawed the ground and Garet stirred. “Andy? The garrison? We have to keep moving.”

“Right.”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Andy carefully mounted up. They had miles to travel before he could pause to wonder at the sudden change in his life. They had to get to the capital, warn King Valdemar, and come back with an army to save what was left of Trance Tower, but suddenly it all seemed possible. Smiling down at…Lillia, he nodded.

“All right. I’m ready to go now.”

Together, they headed down the south road toward Haven.

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