She blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, thank you, Lord Malcius.”
Malcius crossed his arms and nodded once, then looked at Balen who seemed utterly confused. Balen shook his head and then withdrew a map. He explained how he thought Ifigen would conduct his battle and then covered his own plan. Since Deshari was defending her claim to the land, she had the privilege of choosing the battle site. She and Ifigen would each be defending their own small hill. The Fourth Echelon’s forces would be attacking from the north, and a small tributary bounded the hills to the south.
Yserria pointed to the river bend on the western flank of her hill. Ifigen’s hill was not adjacent to the river. “Can they use this to flank us?” she said.
Balen shook his head. “That would be difficult. The river flows in the other direction.”
“Could we use it to flank them?”
He rubbed his chin. “It would be a good plan, but we do not have enough men.”
“Orina knows that,” Yserria mused. “She knows that my force is smaller than Ifigen’s. She would not expect us to split the few we have.”
“Because it would be suicide,” said Malcius.
“Maybe not,” she said. “Is this map accurate?”
“Very much so,” said Balen.
“Then, look. Our hill is steeper on the northeastern side. This means that Orina will not be able to attack us from due north. It will force her to move slightly to the west, but there is a rise here. Her troops will be closer to the river, but they will not be able to see our unit in the water until it is too late.”
Balen nodded. “What you say is true, but we still need more men.”
Yserria placed her hands on her hips and said, “How can we get them?”
“Perhaps a demonstration. Some of the men are not convinced that you can fight.”
She huffed. “I made it to the second round in the fifth tier at the King’s Tournament.”
“You would probably have made it to the third if Rezkin had not defeated you,” said Malcius.
She glanced at him, uncertain if he were chiding her. He appeared sincere, so she said, “Thank you.”
He furrowed his brow. “For what?”
Balen said, “It is true, then? You are the female swordmaster who was at the King’s Tournament?”
Yserria paused and then lifted her chin. “Yes, I am the swordmaster.”
“I see. This is why the echelon chose archery instead of the sword.”
Malcius said, “What kind of demonstration did you have in mind?”
“Never mind,” said Yserria. “I know what will do.”
Malcius and many of the warriors who had committed themselves to her cause followed Yserria as she stalked to the center of the encampment. Others stopped what they were doing to investigate the commotion. She turned and faced her men, bowed, then turned to face the gathering crowd of onlookers. She bowed again and drew her father’s sword, holding it in front of her, the tip toward the overcast sky. Then, she began to move. Her form was graceful, but her motions strange to Malcius. After the first few passes, some of the men began to clap. Others joined them, and after a minute, Malcius was surrounded by an intense cadence of long and short claps. Every so often the men would root as one, a barking sound that complimented the patterned claps.
Malcius leaned over to Balen and said, “What is she doing? I have never seen a sword form like that.”
“It is not a sword form. It is a sort of ritual, a dance but with meaning. It is only performed by the royal guard upon a queen’s death or crowning, or when the army goes to war. It is meant to provoke dedication and instill strength. I do not know how she knows the dance, but she must be a swordmaster if she is capable of performing it without killing herself.”
Yserria tossed the sword into the sky, allowing it to flip, end over end, before catching it. She then swept it behind her back and did the same. Each time she caught the sword, she performed some acrobatic that might have even impressed Rezkin. Malcius became more anxious with each turn, and his sense of relief when it was finally finished was surprising.
To Balen, he said, “Her father was a royal guard. He taught her the sword.”
Yserria ended with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Men and a few women came to speak with her, and Yserria urged every one of them to join her force. Some of them accepted immediately, while others said they required time for consideration. After she had spoken with the majority, she rejoined Malcius and Balen.
Balen shook his head. “It is a risky move, but we might have enough to pull it off.”
Malcius looked at Yserria and said, “May I speak with you privately?” They walked a short distance to where they could still be seen but not heard. He said, “You do not have to do this. Let me be your champion. I will go to battle in your stead.”
She scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
“Look around you, Yserria. This is a real battle. People will die. You need not risk your life on my account. I will fight the battle for my own freedom as your champion.”
“You cannot be my champion,” she said. “I have claimed you. You could fight as my champion in any challenge except the matter of the claim. For this matter, you would need to accept the claim, and we would be required to consummate the bond before witnesses.”
“I thought that was only for marriages! I thought that anyone could fight as your champion.”
“Anyone can, unless I have claimed him. Then, we must complete the bond. It does not matter if it is for husband or consort, although the requirements for a husband are more—intense.”
Malcius’s thoughts were thrown into chaos as his heart raced. Palis had lost his life to save Yserria. He could not just let her walk into a battle and get killed. Why had he never considered that before? He needed to keep her safe. He said, “Would it be so terrible? It is certainly better than dying.”
She slapped him. Malcius raised a hand to his stinging cheek. The shock of it woke him from his panic. “What—”
“You are a horrible person, Malcius Jebai.”
“But—”
“What I do with my body might be acceptable here in Lon Lerésh, but anywhere else, I would be a ruined woman. Do you hate me so much that you would sentence me to a long life of loneliness?”
“No, I—”
“And, you have no faith in my abilities as a warrior. I have trained hard for this, and I am capable. I risk my life to keep you free, and this is how you repay me?”
Yserria stalked away, and Malcius was left wondering what in the world had just happened. Balen strode over as he watched Yserria storm off toward the staging ground. He said, “I know not what you said to her, but I think you are lucky to have gotten away with a slap. She looks furious enough to win the battle on her own.”
Malcius groaned and followed her through the crowd. Some of the men laughed at his misfortune as he passed, while others offered their condolences. He was so preoccupied by the attention that he nearly ran into a hulking man who stepped in front of him. The man grabbed hold of his shirt as he lost his footing, preventing him from further embarrassing himself by falling onto his rear.
The man said, “I am Mage Dolinar. I will fight at your side.”
Malcius looked up at the dark-skinned man, obviously of Pruari descent. He was one of the largest men Malcius had ever seen, and his voice rumbled like a war drum.
Malcius grasped the man’s hand. “I am Malcius of House Jebai. I thank you, but I must ask why? You have only seen me make a fool of myself.”
Dolinar grinned, his broad smile lightening the mood. He slapped Malcius’s shoulder and said, “It looks like you need the help.”
“He is not wrong,” Balen said with a smirk.
Mage Dolinar turned and pushed Malcius toward the staging ground. He waved a hand toward the men and said, “We have all been in similar situations with our matrias. Well, perhaps not exactly yours. Most of our matrias depend on our strength as champions for physical challenges. Your matria is a she-wolf. She readily bares her claws and teeth, but I think she would not be satisfied with a docile man.”