Gritting her teeth she listened to the reports, waiting, trying not to show evidence of the searing agony in her side.
Nodding to Morvolio, "I see. How many of us were taken?"
The tall man almost shuffled in shame, "A third."
"And where are my skirmishers? Did you send them to rescue that third?" it was hell to keep her temper, the arrow was still sticking out of her, but the bleeding was slowing. Nehai's breasts were bound flat, but otherwise she was nude from the waist up, scars ugly pink, red, and mottled white covering her. She was sure that it was a shock to the other captains to see their female commander as scarred as them. Little did they know that as a young woman she had posed as a youth and joined the army's skirmishing bands, rising to be a captain in her own right. It was why she had been chosen - her ruthlessness on the battlefield, and her already proven capabilities made her perfect for leading this defensive campaign. "Well - answer me Morvolio, did you send the skirmishers?"
"No," it was a sigh as he shook his head at her. "I did not send them. They left in the middle of the night."
"Commander Nehai! Commander Nehai!" Tor came skidding into the tent, dirty, sweaty and flushed from the long hard march still.
Waving a hand at him in acknowledgement, "Report."
He kneeled, his fist pressed to the center of his chest, "Seventy skirmishers have returned."
"Oh?" raising an eyebrow. "You don't say? Send in Captain Gero in to me imeidately. Make sure his men are seen to."
"Yes Commander!" bounding up with a quick bow, the youth tore out of the tent as fast as he had entered.
There were murmurs of surprise and shock. Nehai knew that they were all quite aware of the fact that few skirmishers lasted in protracted combat. If Captain Gero had left under his own power, without Morvolio's permission or sanction, that meant that the light calvelry had purposely gone into the faces of the Ukit for what would have been a lasting fight. The fact that seventy of them had come back was a miracle. Out of all the unit types, theirs had the shortest life expectancy. People with families were never allowed to join.
Nehai waited, the lull allowing her to gather some strength for what she knew would come later. The arrow would have to be angled, then punched through her side. It was a slim hope that the arrow would miss her vitals, but it was the only silver she had. Gero was young, younger than most, and he was just a recent addition to the military, having been raised up from a squire a mere two years ago. He entered, the curly black hair and coal eyes of his race making him blend in with her other captains.
Ignoring propriety, "Commander Nehai, the captives who were being tortured have been released to the next plain." His face was lined with fatigue, but he was uncowed by the level stare she gave him, "We suffered mild losses ourselves - just four. Hyric, Lorest, Ont, and Jan, though it was because of wounds gained during the fall back to the riverbank. As for the remaining captives, they are making their way from the East to the riverbanks." Here he gave her a proud, cocky grin, "With supplies that the Ukit were ever so kind as to have given us."
At that Nehai laughed, despite the jarring burn in her body, "Interesting." Allowing her face to settle in stern lines, "So why shouldn't I punish you for insubordination?"
If she went light on him, the other captains would say that she favoured Gero, on the other hand if she punished him the others would raise him up as a martyr. She couldn't decide between future upheavals and rebellion from her captains, or loosing one of her best men. Everything was quiet, but the breathing and subtle movements were loud in Nehai's ears.
Almost as if he could read her delima, Gero's face became stone, "The punishment of insubordination is death, Commander Nehai. As such I am honour bound to fall upon my sword." There was a steely rasp as he pulled his sword from it's sheath, "I beg your forgiveness for my rash actions."
Holding up her hand to halt his actions, "It would be a shame to loose a mind such as yours for having done right by our comrads." Glancing at the other captains, "What say you on this? Should a man who has shown more spine, cunning, skill and honour than you be thrown upon his sword? Or should he be given thirty lashes, as it was his first infraction?"
"Thirty lashes would kill him," Morvolio growled. "It would be a dog's death."
"So would the sword, Morvolio," Narf mumbled.
"Can none of you make the decision? Will you stand by my choice?" Nehai's voice was granite as she forced the issue. Universal agreement came from all of them so she nodded, a hard smile curving her lips, "Gero, you will die by the sword," continuing while she ignored the gaped mouths of shock, "as a soldier. In battle. Go see to your men, get some rest. Tomorrow you will take your men to play harrying actions on the Ukit, destracting them from the soldiers you released."
With that proclomation, Nehai stood up, taking the end of the arrowshaft in her hand, snapping the feathered part off, while twisting and shoving it out through her back. Somehow Nehai didn't pass out, but inside she was numbed anyway, time was shortening, plus the display would remind all of the men present that she was better than them. Stronger. Smarter. And that she could always find a way out of anything, the best end to any problem. While all they could do was stumble around in the dark, crying for their mothers.
What surprised her was Morvolio's hand on her elbow, lending her support in an unobtrusive manner. As the other captains filed out, his grip strengthened, while she swayed on her feet.The young formercommander stared at her, his black eyes swirling red in the depths, he grunted at her in thought. Firm pressure on the entry/exit wound almost wrung a shout from Nehai. But she was stronger than that.
"Gods know why you're such a bitch, Nehai," it was soft, almost too soft for her to hear, and he picked her up, taking her to the pallet. No nonsense ministraitions made her nauseous from the stabbing in her flesh.
Panting, "I take that as a compliment, you should have figured that out by now."
"I'll never understand it, why did you leave the military when you were younger?" the question was from the left field. It reminded her of a time when Morvolio had been her captain, the one who trained her in the art of war.
Gritting her teeth as a pain that didn't have much to do with the gaping hole in her side tore up her insides, "Because I'm a bitch. That's why. I make the hard choices that none of you men can. It's why I'm here now," gasping as the needle flashed in the low light while Morvolio worked, "because none of you can think outside the, damn you've got hands like an ox, fucking box." They were silent for a moment before she asked a question of her own, "Did you know back then?"
He nodded, his eyes trained on the wound, rinsing it with honeyed wine every now and then to wash away the excess blood, "Oh yeah I knew."
"Since you knew, then why didn't you ever report me?" hissing, "Damnit give me my ciggarrette box! Shit."
Morvolio's nostrils flared, then pinched closed as he gave a snort, "Things will kill you."
"This coming from someone who was a skirmisher for ten years, means I think I'll discount that statement. Just give me the damn thing, something to distract me," the small wood box was just out of her easy reach, and she didn't feel like pulling the careful stitches Morvolio was using to pull the ragged ends of flesh together out.
"That shit is going to kill you," he said as he moved it close enough for her to open it, his bloody fingerprints colouring the already red enamel a deeper shade.
Taking out one of the tobac sticks and shoving it between her full lips, "As though you won't soon enough."
Morvolio's hands froze, and his gaze snapped up to look at her, "Excuse me?"
Shrugging, "In the end it'll be you or me standing. You won't tolerate me, a mere woman, commanding for much longer. It galls you. By the same token, I don't fall when pushed. I don't break. Kill me, whatever - you'll never win without me. And you'll have no satisfaction with this position."
"I think you misread my intentions Nehai," he went back to sitching her up, each one tiny and neat. She'd forgotten how good he was at sewing up wounds.
"You never did answer my question," curiosity was gnawing at her, just like the pain in her nerve endings and that hollow place she'd once housed a heart.
"Because you would have been killed, and I would have lost my best subcaptain," his voice was even, but the scar on his jaw twitched as the muscle ticked.
Nodding she went back to ignoring him. It made it easier to cling to her hardness, her cool, and that emotionless killer she'd cultivated over the years.