Chapter 55

My bodyguards and I saw rows of men at the medic tent awaiting treatment. A significant number of Lord Oxnot's estate guards had serious wounds, mixed in with our militia men and Lady Derwen's guards. I noticed a Caldavian man was in the bunch; his mail shirt was beside him and the man's armor sang of a noble heritage. He wasn't going to be pretty anymore, a sword had removed his ear and a fair amount of skin was peeled from the side of his face. The Raider was not awake but a temple guard stood watch over him, the archer from the river. The young woman didn't have her bow but I'd recognize her striking figure anywhere.

I forgot the slaver, and said, "I was worried about you." A sheen of sweat and dirt covered her face and neck. The warrior's tired and stiff bearing softened at my words.

She laughed, "You seem to be the one featuring a broken arm, Lord Solon. I am but filthy and exhausted." We both grinned at each other.

"Thank you for keeping their archers busy," I responded and she answered with a wink.

Hawking, Ferry and I walked over to my tent, not far from the cries of the wounded. Hawking helped me remove my armor and set my arm in a splint. Food arrived from somewhere and all three of us devoured the salted pork. Warm beer followed and we drank until we felt no pain. The Wizard Troop teenagers showed up at my command tent and I used them as messengers, sending orders out into the camp. Luckily none of the teens were injured. Reports from Sergeants or corporals drifted in for the rest of the afternoon about casualties. The death tolls from the river fights were mostly from the final fight with the Caldavian Count and his personal bodyguard. Lord Oxnot's men did not fare well with the Count's men, but the men-at-arms and the rangers subdued the Count and all of our horsemen survived.

Our militia took its losses at the bridge, as did our estate guards and regular marines, where the intense arrow storm and clash of arms stymied the enemy's wave attacks. I didn't want to think about how many Raiders died from the hundreds of iron beads the claymore had shot out, but the teenagers chattered about the slaughter on the bridge in awe. Their tale about the number of dead slavers on the bridge seemed to double every hour, as they retold their story about watching the fight from the camp. The details of the final explosion went from a small tongue of fire to a wave of flame that spewed the length of the bridge. They named it dragon fire because of the smell. Jests and banter flowed between the teens, which got on my nerves.

I ended up issuing orders and edicts just to get the teens away from my campfire. Our horsemen ended up scouting the far ridge and capturing some wagons and supply mules hidden in a wooded area. The mules had chests of loot, gold goblets, silver serving sets, jewels, and gold coins worth a fortune. I suspected the loot was the captured Count's share of bounty from the two port towns. The rangers didn't bring the mule train to camp but rather tucked it away in the nearby knoll, under guard. I didn't want to deal with it, nor did I want the men distracted, so I had the rangers dispatch five men to take it to Lady Derwen. Ferry went with them to report on the battle. I sent one of the female express riders to report to Hajin. The other messenger went to report to Lord Oxnot, his men died well and he should hear of it directly from me.

We put the lightly wounded men on the captured wagons and sent them home, while our militia men swept the battlefield and collected arms and armor. What else they found was their business. I assigned what was left of my estate guards to the bridge for the rest of the day. We were going to stay the night and see how many of the seriously wounded survive until morning. The unbloodied militia men that never experienced the trials of combat were all assigned as the night watch. We would bury our dead in the morning.

Just before a spectacular sunset, I washed up in the river with a little help from the temple archer. Holly had encouraged her to attend me, and she was to report back to the medic, in the morning about my injuries. The night ended better than I had anticipated. The archer's name was Ginger and our love-making soothed away the cruel scenes of battle from my mind. We sprawled and twisted on the ground of my tent until we fell asleep exhausted.

I woke up in the dark to find Ginger stroking my naked back. Memories of our wonderful activities earlier in the night made me feel warm all over. My hormones surged through my body when I felt Ginger reach around for my resting shaft.

"Your wonderful male scent woke me. Holly wasn't exaggerating at the allure of your body once a woman has tried it," Ginger whispered.

I felt for her nipples and found them hard and excited. Ginger shivered with anticipation as I rolled on my back pulling her on top of me. Her shapely muscles felt inviting and soft and our time together on the battlefield created a bond with her that baffled me. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to feel her and claim Ginger as my own. I wanted to impregnate her.

Patting her bottom I whispered, "Let's see how many 'little deaths' I can give you before the sun comes up."

Ginger's hand adjusted me to her passage's swollen lips and then her tight passage welcomed me with her wetness.

Kissing her areola, I said, "You have the biggest areolas I have ever seen. I am selfish, and I want to keep them with me in Juniper Hills." Stroking her fire with slow thrusts that caused her breathing to shallow out.

As I sucked on her nipples, Ginger said, "What would I do in Juniper Hills?"

My tongue circled her areola before I answered, "We are building a new Earth Mother temple. An experienced and talented guard must train new temple defenders." I pushed deep into her, meeting her thrusts.

She moaned ecstatically when I said, "For the former guard will be heavy with my child, after many, many, pleasant, dark nights like this with her master."

In the morning I awoke alone, the moans of the wounded wafted into my tent on the wind. My bodyguard was cooking a fish on a long stick. Two militia men stood guard next to the captured flags, but I wasn't sure why. The weather was clear and we had no mist to deal with today.

Nodding my head at them, Hawking understood my meaning, and said, "Honor guard to our achievements. The village men felt it would honor our dead, until we return home." I felt it was a worthy idea, putting my fist to chest in salute to the honor guards.

Holly walked over, her eyes were heavy and her back hunched. Without preamble, the medic said, "Only three seriously wounded men survived the night."

It pained me to see her eyes burning from fatigue. My arms wrapped around her, drawing Holly to me. She unloaded a mournful cry. "Say nothing. Just hold her. Losing so many patients is a healer's worst nightmare."

She cursed the violence and the stupidity of men and a small whimper snatched away any words Holly was trying to say. I looked at her face and saw a bruise on her cheek.

She saw my raising eyebrows, and said, "A patient was in a lot of pain and hit me. It happens..." Holly cried again, tears streamed down her cheeks and she shivered. Seeing her suffering pained me.

A priestess came up behind me, she sighed deeply, and challenged, "When do you want to break camp?"

"Today, after we bury all our dead," I answered.

The priestess stiffened and uttered, "I think the wounded can travel, but we cannot be sure how their insides will take it."

"I cannot keep the militia here indefinitely. We do not have many estate guards left to protect this place when they leave," I commented.

"I'll stay," the priestess answered.

My mind turned to another topic, "What of the prisoner?"

Holly's lips twitched, and she said, "He is awake and under guard."

"Fine he goes today. Holly, you will see to his care," I commanded. Holly was too exhausted to fight me as we walked to see him. Holly broke off from me to tend a man.

The Count's dark eyes caught mine, and he said, "You must be Lord Solon."

I offered a slight bow, examining his ornately embroidered shirt that was fastened in place with a silver clasp. He reclined on a log.

"My sister made the shirt for me," the Count Grotian, second son of his Lordship Kooljam announced.

"I understand the love for one's family. That is why we fought yesterday," I responded. "How is your wound?"

The Count laughed, caught off guard at the question. "You healers worked hard on your men and me, all night."

Hawking tossed the man a loaf of bread, which the Count took with a grin of appreciation, he had a water jug already. Tearing into the bread, the slaver offered me a piece, which I accepted and ate. "A cautious man, not sure if the bread is tainted."

The Raider scrutinized me while eating the bread, satisfied we were not trying to poison him.

"I'd offer you ale, but we drank it last night with many toasts to the departed," Hawking muttered.

"Yes, that was the most intense fighting of my life," the Count responded. I shrugged, picturing the pools of blood on the bridge.

"The blood was flowing on both sides," I responded, coldly. "I had hoped impeding your first attack would prove our resolve. Yet, you pressed your attacks with purpose and need. Why is that?"

The Count smirked at my bluntness, obviously reluctant to respond. He appraised my reaction and I felt he was as curious about us, as were about him.

"How about a trade? Knowledge for knowledge, Lord Solon?" The Count said, ending the pleasantries, a little iciness in his tone.

Taking up the challenge, I answered, "Point for point, until one of us resolves to stop." I sat with him on the log. He was my prisoner, and my hand was stronger in this exchange of wits.

"We pressed on with our attacks because no other defenders have held so long, and with such determination. Usually, our opponents run when we send in our household troops," the Count said, his frosty eyes never left mine.

"Where did you get those fast firing crossbows? the noble asked. "They were a bit of a shock. How did you kill so many men on the bridge?"

"Lady Derwen's workshop makes them," I responded, with a prideful grin. "The bridge is a second question and it is my turn."

"I believe your waves of attacks on the bridge pressed vigorously, beyond stubbornness or pride. Why?" I asked, flexing my fists.

The Raider's air-of-superiority of flagged, sighing, "I was on a mission to loot the temple. Blood Oaths were exchanged and agreements that required no failure." The skin on his face seemed inflamed around the ear. He itched at his missing ear. "This path was a means to my ambitions. I am appalled at the final price that was paid for the attempt. My father will ransom me for safe-conduct. He will feel displeased at the loss of his friends' two sons; but, he will pay."

"I cannot imagine losing a child," I replied emphatically.

"My father's level of concern is weighed with the number of adult sons he has left and he has no shortage. However, the loss of a noble ally's son under my leadership has noteworthy political costs," the Caldavian noble answered. "My source informed me Lady Derwen's men, while well-trained, were manor troops that didn't roam far afield from their villages. I found it surprising you were here with a blockhouse on the road, ready for us. How did you know we were coming so far ahead of time?"

He seemed rather passive about the question but his foot twitched nervously. I felt nervousness and frustration under the surface of his calm facade. "He thinks someone set him up. Who would want him to hurt the temple? Give him intelligence on troop quality and disposition?" I thought.

I shifted my broken arm gingerly; the nanomites itched almost beyond my tolerance to ignore them. Standing to think on what we discussed and what the Raider asked, I surveyed the orderly tents of our camp. "He sees what he wants to see. He believes we have been here some time. Our camp is so orderly, not hastily situated," I thought, a feeling of smugness caused me to smile broadly. I sat with him again.

"Knowledge for Knowledge, you have spoken frankly and fairly. I will give you this bountiful insight," I stammered, thinking how to phrase this correctly. "Your ships that attacked our lands from the south, landed and the men from them were killed. Lord Atum is in the fishing village, currently repairing those ships with his host. No Raiders survived to expose the nature of the ambush."