Free Once A Hero by Michael A. Stackpole Page A

distant dun hints of the dust cloud long before she heard trumpets or caught the scarlet pennants snapping in the breeze. Unable to identify them at first, she muttered a prayer in hopes they were not Haladina. She had the spells and experience necessary to raise a defense of the camp, but after treating Andra she needed rest before she could be at her best in combat.
    The approach to the camp took the riders up a slight incline, which she knew would take the edge off a charge. That hardly mattered, though, as Haladina seldom fought in unison and would attack from many points at once. The grasslands, baked golden-brown by the sun, offered her magicks fodder for a fire, but it would rage out of control and kill her and the people she meant to save as well as their tormentors. Her defense would have to be more careful, making it that much tougher on her, and she wasn't certain she was fully up to the task.
    Shenan, Keif's younger brother, stood beside her, shifting throwing stones from left hand to right. "What do you mark them to be, m'lady?"
    Gena glanced down at the towheaded boy beside her. "How much can you see?"
    "Cloud, all whispylike. Has to be riders." The boy lowered his voice. "If Neal was here, we'd learn them."
    She gently rested her right hand on his left shoulder and felt tense muscles loosen beneath rough homespun. She narrowed her eyes and watched carefully, then smiled with relief. "I see banners of red, with black piping and devices."
    "Flash of gold from the top of one standard, too, eh?" The Elven female nodded. "You have the eyes of an eagle, Shenan. Just so you know, those are likely Aurdon Rangers."
    "How likely?"
    Gena squatted down and pointed at a rider at their head. "I believe that is Durriken riding beside their captain, so I do not fear another Haladin raid."
    The boy's smile broadened, piling up dimples at the corners of his mouth. "Can I tell my ma?"
    Gena nodded, and quite quickly the whole camp had its attention drawn to the approaching riders. She joined the refugees in smiling at the riders, but she neither shouted nor waved until Durriken cut abruptly to the right for a slow-count of three, then rode back to the line. With that signal she knew he had come without coercion or under duress, so she raised her left hand and shouted a welcome.
    Durriken rode a bit ahead of the Rangers and reined up short. Cupping her jaw gently in his long-fingered hands, he bent down from the saddle and kissed Gena, then winked at her and turned back toward the others. "Lady Genevera Sylvanii, may I present Captain Floris Fisher of the Aurdon Rangers, Seventh Regiment."
    Gena curtsied as the Rangers' leader reined his chestnut stallion to a halt before her. Floris rode very tall in the saddle, with the wings and horsehair plume on his helmet accentuating his height. He glanced at her, then quickly surveyed the area before returning his brown-eyed gaze to her. He smiled, bowing his head, but refrained from doffing the steel helm that capped his skull and protected the back and sides of his neck.
    "I am honored, M'Lady Sylvanii, and very pleased your company has remained unmolested in the time it took us to get here." Again he looked up and away from her, and Gena smiled as she realized he was checking to make certain his men had taken up positions to surround the camp. "I detached a company to go back to Aurdon with the boy to see to the oxen, then asked Durriken to lead us back to you."
    Durriken chuckled lightly, and she saw Floris shoot him a hooded glance. Something passed between them that she could not decipher, though she assumed it was more because it was a gender-bond than a secret to be shared only among Men. "The Three-Seventh had been sent out to deal with the raiders we encountered, specifically because Count Berengar did not want us inconvenienced as we rode to Aurdon. They caught the main body of Haladina earlier in the day, and those we found were a group who fled from the battle."
    Gena looked at