Read Valdemar 05 - [Vows & Honor 02] - Oathbreakers for Free Online

who would only allow a select few to handle her. Jodi sat her as casually as some gentle palfrey—and with Jodi in her saddle, the mare acted like one. Her only fault was that she avoided situations where she would have to command the way she would have avoided fouled water.
    And Kyra: peasant blood and peasant stock, she’d trained herself in tracking, bow and knife, and hard riding, intending to be something other than some stodgy farmer’s stolid wife. When the war came grinding over her parents’ fields and her family had fled for their lives, she’d stayed. She’d coolly sized up both sides and chosen Sursha‘s—then sized up the mercenary Companies attached to Sursha’s army and decided which ones she wanted to approach.
    She’d started first with the Hawks, though she hadn’t really thought she’d get in—or so she had confessed to Tarma after being signed on. Little had she guessed that Scout Pawell had coughed out his life pinned to a tree three days earlier—and that the Hawks had been down by two scouts before that had happened. Tarma had interviewed her and sent her to Sewen, who’d sent her to Idra—who’d sent her back to Tarma with the curt order—“Try her. If she survives, hire her.” Tarma had sent her on the same errand that had killed Pawell. Kyra had returned. Since Pawell had had no relatives, no leman and no shieldmate to claim his belongings, Tarma gave her Pawell’s dun horse, Pawell’s gear, and Pawell’s tentmate. Kyra had quickly acquired something Pawell hadn‘t—tentmate had turned to shieldmate and lover.
    The Scouts altogether approved, as Pawell had been standoffish and his replacement was anything but. The romance had amused and touched them. Kyra had begun to bloom under the approval, to think for herself, to make judgment calls. The Kyra that had joined them would never have come to Tarma with an old tale and a rumor; Kyra of “now” had experience enough to know how important that rumor could be, and enough guts to present the information herself. She was Tarma’s personal pick to become a subcommander herself in a few years.
    It was false dawn; one hour to real dawn, and there was a hint that the sky was getting lighter. No words were needed; they all knew what they had to do. When Tarma rode gray Ironheart into the waiting knot of Scouts and horses, those dismounted swung back up into their saddles. Tarma didn’t even slacken her pace; all five of them left the camp in proper diamond formation, as if they’d rehearsed the whole maneuver. Tarma had point (since as commander she was the only one of the five with all the current passwords), Garth tail, Jodi right and Kyra left—Beaker and his precious birds rode protected in the middle.
    They rode along the back of the string of encampments ; dark tents against slowly graying sky to their right, scrub forest and hills stark black against the sky to their left. The camps were totally dark, since just about everyone had encountered the same troubles as the Hawks had with lights and fires in the pouring rain.
    They were challenged almost as soon as they left their own camp; a foot-sentry, sodden, but alert. He belonged to Staferd’s Cold-drakes; this was the, edge of their camp. Tarma nodded to herself with satisfaction at his readiness, and gave him the countersign.
    Then came a heavy encampment of regular infantry, whose sentry hailed Warrl, who was trotting at Ironheart’s flank, by name, and called out; “You’re recognized, Sunhawks. Pass on.” Tarma felt a little twitchy about that one, but couldn’t fault him. You challenged those whom you didn’t recognize; you could let known quantities by. And there were no kyree in Kelcrag’s forces.
    At the next encampment—Duke Greyhame’s levy—they were physically challenged; a fully-armed youth with an arrogant sneer on his lips,