3: Under A Moonless Sky

The moons peeked through the trees. Leiyn watched their progress as she tracked Altun and the plainsriders through her lifesense. The Catedrál had little to say on the moons, far more concerned as it was with the sun, but Tadeo had told her of the Gasts’ perspective. Great Teyao and Young Chiuni, the natives named them. They were called the guardians of the night, seen as the counterpoints to the titans of land and sea.

It was never a belief she had bought into. But knowing now that titans could be allies as well as antagonists, she wondered if any truth lay in it.

Chiuni set first, then Teyao. Dawn was still far off, yet Leiyn had expected the assault to begin while there was still light to see by. She suspected that, despite Altun’s seeming sincerity, there would not be an attack at all.

Yet the plainsriders had not settled down to sleep. They sat or moved about tasks she could not tell by mahia alone. She tracked Altun as he moved from warrior to warrior, like he refreshed them each on a plan.

Feshtado fool, believing that man.

She had been as far from trusting Altun as she could have been upon their first encounter. The altercation had arisen during the summer she and Isla had spent at the Greathouse. Altun, then a young man come early into his strength, had tormented Batu, a scrawny boy still far from his own growth spurt. Leiyn had been especially keen to brawl in those days. She had given the bully a sound enough beating that he and his friends had given Batu a wide berth for the rest of their stay.

She had always wondered how the young plainsrider had survived after they departed. He had given her the credit when the matter resurfaced, but she doubted fear of her would have lasted long.

Life had clearly left its mark on Altun. He moved with a limp, favoring his right leg. The old wound seemed high on his leg, judging by his gait and where he pressed a hand to it. Scars aplenty had marked his face as well. Most telling of all had been his composure at the pointed end of her arrow. A hard lesson had taught him to control his emotions, forging an angry boy into a formidable foe.

Or ally.

Though she did not wish to, she had to consider the idea. Once, she had believed Gasts to be her enemy through a tragic misunderstanding. It was conceivable that the same had happened here. Still, it felt less likely. She had only heard of the circumstances of her birth from the biased and grief-stricken viewpoint of her father. Taban had betrayed and hunted them down, making his position unequivocal. 

Yet Baltesia needed allies in their war. She would not put it past Mauricio to bury the hatchet if it meant bringing Altan Gaz into their fold.

A sigh hissed between her teeth. I’m trying not to be rash, she thought to Tadeo. But must it be so egreshti hard?

As time passed, Leiyn’s expectations sunk lower. Yet, waste of time or not, she had already decided. Relenting from her watch only to relieve herself—and keeping a careful eye out for ambush—she had just pulled up her trousers when the plainsriders finally congregated.

Hurrying back to her post, she kept her hand on the bowstring and peered in their direction. It was the night’s darkest hour. By her eyes, she could detect little more than movement among the shadows. Her lifesense, however, tracked the twenty men as they went silently up the hill. Only one remained behind, watching over their horses. Their hunched approach bespoke of sneaking up on an enemy, as did the hour. All was as Altun had said it would be.

Leiyn tailed them as she chewed through the decision. Isla would have told her to stay out of the fight. Batu would have remained silent, torn between loyalties. Teya, however, would have been here by her side, no matter what.

If there is a fight, she thought the scout might have said, choose the winning side.

The plainsriders split into several groups. Four moved around to the east of the hill atop which the Lodge’s ruins sat, staying within the shelter of the woods. Another four did the same to the west. Of the remaining company, Altun and three others moved from the forest cover out onto the open plains.

Leiyn had to admit it was the correct move: sending a split vanguard to remove the sentries before they could sound the alarm was prudent. Should the plainsriders gain the advantage of surprise, their superior marksmanship would cut down the drowsy Suncoats without weakening their own company.

She tensed and untensed the bowstring as each group moved into position, spaced more or less equally around the perimeter. Then, by an unseen signal, they advanced up the hill.

Leiyn looked at the hilltop camp and noted the Suncoat sentries by their esses. They had posted a single man in each direction. A testament to degrading discipline? Or did their company have enough wounded to make the unwise course necessary? 

Whatever the cause, this was likely to be their last watch.

The thought should have brought her vindictive satisfaction. Instead, she dreaded it. She would feel every lifefire being snuffed out. Sense every death like a shadow of her own. As her mahia grew, her weakness matched it in proportion.

It was not noble to be callous to killing, yet part of Leiyn wished she could return to the numbness of before. When she had buried her mahia deep. When violence did not cut her to the quick.

No. Never again.

She could not return to the woman she had been. The devil who could have killed an innocent Gast and thought herself justified.

If this was the cost of atonement, she would pay it thrice over.

Leiyn bared her teeth at the darkness, then crept closer, only stopping at the edge of the field. There, she watched the scene unfold.

The plainsriders closest to her had paused. Though specific actions were difficult to discern by lifesense alone, they were close enough to mark their targets. She saw no sign the Suncoats knew what was coming. Though they were the more certain of her enemies, it was enough to almost pity them.

Bows thrummed as arrows flew.

One sentry collapsed, his esse falling dark. Then a second. A third. The fourth’s light darkened as he sustained a grievous wound, but this one did not entirely fade.

A scream pierced the night, scraping shivers along her skin.

The camp roused at once. Leiyn heard a plainsrider curse as Altun led a charge up the hillside. The other two groups also spurred into a sprint, as did those warriors left in reserve. Their charge went unopposed, but seeing the Suncoats form into lines, she knew that would change once they passed the barriers.

Altun reached the ashen walls of the Lodge and leaped over them to meet the Suncoat line. Three of his men were beside him a moment later. The reserves, holding a mixture of bows and other weapons, remained a little way back. 

Dark slices through lifeforce showed wounds multiplying on both sides. Bellows of pain and rage broke the peaceful night.

Leiyn squeezed the wood of her bow until it groaned. The moment had come. She had to decide. Would she do as Isla would and stand to the side? Or go Teya’s way?

As if that was a choice.

Scarcely had the resolution formed than Leiyn was running up the hill toward her old home.

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