Fic: The Snare (1/3)
New fic! Finally! We apologize for the long delays. Wrangling war and peace is harder than it looks.
Title: The Snare
Authors: angelqueen04, melyanna, and miera_c
Rating: PG
Summary: In the wake of their surprising victory, the Caldorans turn to diplomacy to stall for time. But the Goa'uld are pursuing a secret agenda of their own.
Three figures on horseback picked their way along the narrow road as dusk fell over the hills. Two of the men appeared almost otherworldly in the evening light, their metal armor making them appear to be more hulking beasts than anything else. Between them, the third man was smaller, thinner, and more alert than his companions. He glanced about not only at the difficult path but at the rocky desert surrounding them.
It had been some days ago now since Ba'al had slipped out of the war camp disguised as one of his own Jaffa. He had kept up the ruse even into the borders of his own holdings, wanting to see and not be seen, not yet.
The message which had come to him from the Queen of Atalan some weeks ago had warned him of the treachery of Anubis. The other lord had seized the lands of his dead lackey, Osiris, and quite possibly was attempting to take control of the territories belonging to the other Goa'uld lords who were now engaged in invading Caldora. Ba'al had determined the only way to know for certain was to see with his own eyes. Hence, he had snuck away like a thief in the night, and been forced to enter his own lands in disguise.
What he saw there kindled a rage in him the like of which he had not known in a long time. Jaffa, loyal to Anubis, patrolled the borders of Ba'al's own lands under the pretense of security. In truth, they were preventing missives from the front lines to reach their destinations, and forwarding forged letters back to the absent lords. With the communications between the lords and their servants stretched so far, it was no difficult matter to seize the messages and manipulate the information to Anubis' personal ends.
Ba'al had journeyed briefly to the edges of Apophis' territories, and found the situation the same. Now they circled around, crossing into Bastet's lands, and again saw Jaffa with the mark of Anubis on their foreheads. He could only assume the same was true for the lands belonging to Heru-ur and Yu, both of whom were also part of the invasion force. Ba'al was not concerned for his fellow lords out of any loyalty or goodness of heart. He could not withstand Anubis' power alone. If most of the lords fell, the survivors would have little hope. His primary objective now was to return to Caldora as quickly as possible and raise the alarm.
His one bit of fortune so far had been to accomplish his mission without being recognized. Now that they were away from his own territories, he left the bulky Jaffa armor off in favor of simple clothes befitting a messenger. His face was not well known here, in lands belonging to Bastet. He should be able to encounter any curious looks without fear. And the Jaffa armor was suffocating him in the heat of the high desert in summer.
The extra traveling had lengthened the trip, but the evidence of his own eyes would hopefully be enough to convince the other lords. Several days of hard riding still lay between him and the camps in Caldora. Unfortunately it was growing too dark to see clearly. They wouldn't make much more progress today.
The Jaffa in front of him halted suddenly, horse rearing and whinnying loudly. In alarm, Ba'al's hand immediately closed about his sword.
Before the Jaffa was a man, dressed simply in a tunic and trousers, holding up a hand in greeting. He seemed to be unaware of blocking the path entirely. Ba'al watched closely for a moment, a feeling of grim foreboding stealing through him.
The stranger shifted his attention from the Jaffa to Ba'al uncertainly for a moment. Then he bowed his head. "My lord."
Ba'al's blood turned to ice. No one was supposed to know he was not in Caldora.
His sword echoed as he drew it swiftly. The interloper seemed to realize his mistake immediately. His face lost its innocent look and darkened with foul purpose. The other Jaffa attempted to bring his horse up alongside his master, but the road was too narrow to allow it. Meanwhile overhead came the sound of rocks dislodging as men stepped out of hiding places. Jaffa, loyal to Anubis, flanked them along the cliff to their right.
They had walked straight into an ambush.
*~*~*~*
The tent represented everything that was wrong with the invasion of Caldora. Bright silks were swagged over their heads and adorned the walls. Golden figures of serpents, falcons, and other animals were displayed in various little corners and in every other possible place. Even the lanterns were works of art. Bastet cursed whoever gave permission for Heru-ur to put up the central tent. They were in the middle of a campaign and he had taken the time to match the colors of the silks? The fabrics only made the air inside the tent more oppressive.
She was used to the heat, even if her own lands were in the mountains, but in this accursed plain, the very air seemed to seep water. The Jaffa were falling out from prostration, and their heavy armor grew rusted in the afternoon rains. Insects swarmed thickly over the sewers, and Bastet more than once wondered to herself how they had been convinced to want to conquer such a place.
Still, they had come too far to stop now, and the Caldorans were in dire need of a lesson in humility.
"This is ridiculous," Apophis growled from his position to her left. He was looking over battle plans, hastily drawn up in the last two days. "We should go forth and end this now. If we attacked their central camp," he pointed at the map on the table, "we could overrun them with sheer numbers. The flower of Caldoran nobility is present there, along with their king. We could wipe them out and make straight for Redwater."
Apophis had suffered the greatest losses in the recent attack by the Caldorans. Of all the lords present, he was the most eager to retaliate.
"Killing the king - or better still, capturing him - would demoralize the entire country," Heru-ur agreed as he grasped another goblet of wine.
After losing a full third of their forces to the much smaller Caldoran army, Bastet was by no means as confident that they could overcome the defenders so easily. Victory would be theirs in the end, of course, but a full scale assault now would cost too many Jaffa. She herself was not in a position to waste her slaves if it could be avoided. Bastet shook her head, saying aloud, "That would still leave their princess and queen to rally the country."
Heru-ur snorted. "What could two women possibly do?"
Complete silence fell within the tent. Bastet raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for her silent message to penetrate the liquor fumes that had clouded his brain. "Ah," he finally said. "Of course, that is-"
Heru-ur's fumbling was cut off when the tent flaps were pulled back and a single figure entered the tent from the muddy path outside. Bastet and the others all looked up.
"Forgive my tardiness, my lords and lady," Zipacna of the Edenan Hills said. "I was conducting a review of my troops and only just received the message for this gathering."
Bastet nodded to him, but sneered inwardly. For all of his pretentiousness, Zipacna was little more than a minor lieutenant of Anubis' retinue. While Osiris had also pledged allegiance to Anubis, he had higher rank and prestige and had been a vocal advocate for this attack. But both Anubis and Osiris had claimed either illness or trouble in their lands which kept them from joining in the campaign directly, and thus Zipacna was there to represent the interests of his betters.
Which left the other lords in Caldora to endure the insincere pandering of a low-level toady while they coordinated the invasion. The insult rankled with all of them.
"We were debating the merits of attacking the Caldorans and overrunning them," Apophis said in a flat voice.
Zipacna nodded and joined them at the table after removing his finely-made cloak, but Bastet turned to Apophis. "It will do you no good to speak of attacking at dawn, my lord. Lord Ba'al's absence here prevents us from making such an enormous move. We must be united in this decision and a precipitate attack could very well cost us much of what we have already gained."
They had faced almost no resistance since crossing the river into Caldora until a few days prior. Small pockets of fighting had broken out, but the army had retreated miles and miles before the invaders. Mere days ago the mood in this tent had been assured and jubilant as the Goa'uld pressed unimpeded toward the capital at Redwater. Now they needed to reassess what the enemy was capable of. Much as it pained her to admit, even to herself, Ba'al's cunning was something they were in dire need of now. Apophis hissed at her, "So shall we sit here and sink into the mud while he seeks pleasure in whatever whores he brought along?"
No one knew why Ba'al was suddenly unreachable. The lord's First Prime stood guard at the tent and refused entrance to all. Bastet had considered more than once killing the smirking Jaffa and forcing her way in, but she still feared Ba'al's wrath. Also such an act could lead to open conflict among the Goa'uld, which was the very last thing they could afford now.
"I do not believe Lord Ba'al whiles his days away gorging his appetites while in the midst of this enterprise. He, unlike many others," she growled, glaring at him pointedly, "exercises control of his baser instincts."
Apophis opened his mouth to reply, but Heru-ur cut in. "How noble of you to defend him, Lady Bastet. Tell us, has he visited your bed in the hopes that you would defend him when he was busy elsewhere?"
That was the last straw. Snarling, Bastet leaned across the table. "Who do you take me for? Qetesh? I-"
"Silence, you childish fools."
Everyone turned toward the last two people present in the central tent. Yu was perhaps the oldest of the coalition of Goa'uld lords, and because of that, one of the most experienced. He sat in a corner, his First Prime standing at his right hand, glaring at them.
"You sit here and squabble with each other for nothing. There is work to be done," Yu stated, his eyes raking over each one of them. Bastet struggled not to shiver. "We suffered heavy losses and cannot afford another such mistake. We cannot move forward with an attack at this time, so we must seek another option. Cease your bickering."
For several moments, no one moved, unsure whether the argument would continue with the others ranged against Yu, but finally Bastet leaned back and settled into a more relaxed stance. Apophis and Heru-ur followed suit. The old man was correct in that they could not afford to waste the day arguing over petty matters.
As if nothing had occurred, Zipacna inquired blandly, "What do you recommend, my lord?"
*~*~*~*
For Cameron and his cousin, the days following the battle were spent burying the dead. More than once Cameron had found himself with the Sodan as they honored the Jaffa who had fallen in service to their cruel masters. He was strangely drawn to this group of wandering warriors. At first they were interested only in his help in digging graves for the dead, but eventually they allowed him to stay when the bodies were lowered into the earth.
One day, at dusk, he worked up the nerve to ask a warrior about his age to tell him why it was so important to honor the dead of the enemy in this manner. Jolan had looked at him with sadness in his eyes and said, "They are not our enemies, but our brothers. We have brought ourselves shame in killing them. The only way to absolve ourselves is to honor them."
Though he had not thought it possible, the nights were more stressful and more draining. They were spent arguing with the nobility over Caldora's next course of action. Most of the lords didn't know what they were talking about. Unfortunately, Stephen Caldwell did know what he was talking about, and usually he was their principle opponent.
On this particular evening he was seated opposite the table from Cameron and John, flanked on either side by his supporters. Chief among them was David, Earl of Dixon. Cameron knew that John was more displeased with that development than he let on. It seemed like John was taking everything personally these days, including this debate.
In another life John probably never would have proposed it, but in recent days he and Cameron had been arguing with the noblemen that they should go to the Goa'uld under the pretense of offering to negotiate a peace settlement. No one, including themselves, believed that the Goa'uld would settle anything without more bloodshed. What Caldora needed most just now was more men, but second to that was time. Reinforcements were on the way, but the Caldorans needed to give them time to arrive and somehow stave off a Goa'uld assault until then. Negotiations might be a ridiculous façade, but they might accomplish such a task.
Cameron focused his attention on Caldwell, who seemed to be winding up a rant. "We forced them back and gained the upper hand," he was saying, his voice filling the tent. "Plying them for negotiations now would show them weakness and waste what we have accomplished. We cannot sit idly by and cede what momentum we have gained!"
"Do you truly wish to strike at them when they still outnumber us two to one?" John demanded incredulously. The conversation sounded quite redundant to Cameron by now. "You know as well as anyone that we cannot reproduce our attack. They will be on their guard for a surprise assault. Our only choice would be open battle on the plains, where they would have every advantage of men and supplies. No, my lord duke, we may have knocked the wind from their sails, but to confront them now in battle is madness!"
Cameron blinked at the odd turn of phrase his cousin had used. He was not the only one in the room confused and caught off-guard by strange words.
After the moment had passed, Caldwell chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table before him. "Lord John, in the last week you have called me both mad and a fool. Which is it to be?"
John shifted, his body dangerously relaxed. "Can it not be both?"
Caldwell pushed back from the table. "That's it -"
"Enough, both of you," said the king, his voice cutting through everything. He gave stern looks around the room at all of them, but most especially to his two highest nobles.
"Lord John," Lord Maybourne interjected, "you must concede that we have little reason to believe that the Tok'ra will be here to aid us any time soon."
Cameron braced himself for an outburst from his quick-tempered cousin, but instead John sighed heavily. "I have told you already," he said, "that I have had it in a letter from Jonathan, Marquis of Neill, commander of Queen Elizabeth's army. He has no reason to mislead us."
The usual rumblings about Atalan began, though Cameron thought they had lost some of their vehemence in recent weeks. It was, perhaps, because these lords were eating meat preserved with Atalan's salt and bread baked with Atalan's grain. Or that it had quickly become established that the Marquis of Sheppard reacted vehemently to such comments. King Henry held up a hand, however, and looked John. "May I see the letter, again, Lord John?" Looking somewhat annoyed, John produced the letter from Jonathan of Neill and handed it over.
The king perused the note quickly. "And how long ago did you say this was written?" he asked quietly.
"I received it five days ago," John repeated, calming down considerably. "My understanding is that Jack went to southern Neill at the queen's order, and my best guess is that he is at one of the watchtowers in the mountains. At most, I would say this information is a fortnight old."
Jack of Neill had informed them that help was three weeks away when he wrote the letter. It was that which gave Cameron the most hope now. Even if Neill had overestimated the Tok'ra's speed over the mountains, help was almost at hand. And Cameron trusted John's judgment of the Atalanian man's character. If John believed him, so did Cameron.
Landry folded the letter up again as he stood. The congregation stood with him. "We will speak of this again tomorrow," he said, loud enough to be heard over the scraping of chairs. "Lord John, a word."
Though he had not been asked as well, Cameron followed John and the king to a corner of the tent while the rest filed out. The king did not ask him to give them privacy. "You know as well as I do that this plan of yours is like as not to fail," Landry said to John. "Madness, even compared to your last plan."
"May I point out that were it not for my last lunatic scheme, we would likely not be here to discuss a new one?" John asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.
The king narrowed his eyes. "You may not, sir."
To Cameron's surprise, John did not back down as he ought to have. Instead, he stared the king in the eye and said no words of apology. Cameron knew not what had passed between the men, but he knew that John had spoken to Landry late into the previous night. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Cameron knew that exhaustion made his cousin dangerously unpredictable.
There was a commotion at the other end of the tent, distracting all three men. Two soldiers were dragging in a third man who was wearing some sort of armor, pushing through the nobles who were trying to get out.
Reprimands forgotten, Landry, John, and Cameron all hurried forward to see what was going on. "My lord, this man has just come from the Goa'uld camp!" one of the soldiers said, shaking the arm of the visitor.
"I come with a message," the strangely dressed man said loudly enough to silence and still the room. In his hand was paper with a wax seal on it.
"Release him," the king ordered, somewhat angrily. Cameron did his best to glare at the two men who'd brought the herald in. The army, coming off such an impossible victory, was spoiling for a fight, but that was no excuse for violating such an important protocol.
At the king's nod, Cameron took the note from the herald and handed it to Landry. He unfolded it slowly, and it seemed as though everyone was holding his breath while the king read.
Then Landry looked up and addressed the herald. "Did you come alone?" he asked.
After a moment's pause, the man nodded.
Landry looked to the head of his personal guard. "See to it that one of your men accompanies this herald until he has left our camp," he said. "We would not wish anything to befall him while he is in our hands."
The captain led the herald away. The two soldiers who had brought him in followed. Caldwell, Dixon, Maybourne, and a few others began to crowd around the king. Once the soldiers were well out of the tent, Landry looked around at the men who surrounded him, his face showing confusion and disbelief. "My lord?" Caldwell prompted.
"I hardly know what to say," the king replied lowly. He looked at John. "The Goa'uld have asked to negotiate with us."
*~*~*~*
Over the distant eastern hills, the sun was rising at an agonizingly slow pace, and Carolyn of Landry was having a hard time staying still. This early in the morning, she was usually just waking up, but today she was already fully dressed, having eaten breakfast and looked over a brief summary of the day's activities, which had been compiled for her by Lord Paul Davis.
Today, though, Carolyn's mother was arriving in Redwater, and Carolyn was waiting.
It had been a long time since she had watched a sunrise from the castle, and for a moment it took her breath away. From her father's study she could see the river that flowed beyond the city. The soil in this part of the country was reddish, giving that tint to the river anyway, but now, as the sun climbed to just the right place in the eastern sky, the river ran red like blood.
A chill ran down Carolyn's spine at the image that evoked, now that nearly every able man of Caldora was upon a battlefield in the west. She prayed silently that this was not an omen.
There was a knock and she turned to see Sir Walter Harriman standing uncertainly in the entrance to the study. She nodded to him, and he cleared his throat. "Princess, your mother's party has arrived. Where will you receive her?"
"In her sitting room." The previous day, she had had the queen's chambers scrubbed clean in preparation for this.
Walter nodded once, and Carolyn watched him go. Not for the first time, she wondered how her father was coping without the man. He was attentive and dutiful, and moreover a great help in everything.
She left as well, heading to the chambers her mother had not used in the years since William's death. Truthfully, she was still a little surprised that the queen had consented to come back to Redwater at all, even at Carolyn's request.
Aurelia was removing a dusty traveling cloak when Carolyn entered the sitting room. "Carolyn, child, what is going on?" she asked. "I came as soon as I could."
"I need your help, Mother," Carolyn began, but her mother did not let her continue.
"I haven't seen you since we received news of the invasion." Aurelia waved her maids off and sat in a chair when mother and daughter were left alone. "I don't know why your father summoned you here in the first place, but why did you not come home again?"
As best she could, Carolyn strove to keep any of a dozen emotions from showing. She had assumed that someone - anyone - had informed her mother already of why she was still in Redwater. That responsibility should have been her father's, and she beat back a twinge of irritation at him. "Mother, Father left me as his regent," she explained.
Her mother was clearly nothing short of stunned. Aurelia tugged furiously at her gloves and slapped them onto the table nearby. "He has left a nineteen-year-old girl to govern the country while he is off at war," she said, mostly to herself. Carolyn tried not to bristle at her words, even though she too had thought that her age and sex would impede her authority. "Has he gone mad?"
Carolyn counted to five before speaking. "He trusts me," she said. "Besides, why else would you imagine he has wanted me to spend time here in Redwater? I will be queen someday, and I must be able to fulfill my duties as such."
She noticed that her mother avoided her gaze. "Do you plan to change history, Carolyn?" Aurelia asked. "Overturn centuries of law and tradition in Caldora and rule on your own, like the young queen in the north?"
Carolyn shook her head. "I have no desire to rule alone," she replied. "You know that."
"My child," Aurelia said, rising and looking at Carolyn again, "it seems there are a great many things I do not know."
The queen swept out of the sitting room, leaving Carolyn stunned. Perhaps summoning her had been a mistake after all.
"Mother," she called, hurrying after Aurelia into her bedchamber. "Mother, that is not fair."
Aurelia looked at Carolyn and let out a short, harsh sigh. "Why did you ask me to come, Carolyn?" she asked.
Carolyn frowned, not wanting to change the subject but knowing how intractable her mother could be sometimes. "I need help," she replied. "From someone I can trust."
"Whom did your father leave here?" Aurelia asked, turning to a table to remove her hat and caul. "Whatever his faults I cannot imagine he left you friendless here."
"Of course not," Carolyn replied. "Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm are here, as well as Walter."
"That is all?"
"The men were needed elsewhere," she said crossly. "I am not sure he could spare those three."
"That was not meant as a rebuke of you or your father," Aurelia replied.
Carolyn looked away, knowing that her temper was starting to get the best of her. "You still have connections within the court, Mother," she said. "Experience that I simply do not have. Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm know this court intimately, but they can only do so much by themselves. Father's ministers are all gone otherwise, and we agreed that you were the best hope for help now."
When Aurelia looked back again, her expression was one of sympathy, but a little pained as well. "No, you do not have my experience," she said, almost to herself.
Carolyn crossed the room then and took her mother's hand. "Will you help me, Mother?" she asked.
Aurelia cupped her cheek. "I will," she replied, "but I do not know what miracle you are expecting from me."
"That is a pity," Carolyn answered, "for I am expecting miracles from everyone now."
Her mother smiled wryly and patted her cheek. "You do have your father's wit now and then."
Squeezing Aurelia's hand, Carolyn turned to go. "Breakfast will be in a quarter of an hour," she said. "We have meetings to attend immediately after."
Her mother followed her to the door. "I'm beginning to remember why I left," she replied, closing the door behind her.
*~*~*~*
Secluded in his tent, Henry sighed quietly as he read over the brief message from the Goa'uld for the hundredth time. Despite the fact that accepting the request would give them some superiority, not being the ones supplicating themselves from the beginning, Henry was no closer to making a decision that he had been before the previous afternoon. He would freely admit that Lord John's proposal of negotiations had had merit, but truthfully he feared it would not be enough.
More worrisome was precisely why the Goa'uld were making this request. Yes, the Caldorans had inflicted a hard blow, but the Jaffa still outnumbered the army twice over. Some of the nobles were sure this was a sign of the Goa'uld acknowledging the strength and will of the Caldoran soldiers, but Henry was not so sanguine. He'd heard too much in recent weeks of the Goa'uld's tendencies towards deception. He worried there was some other motive at play that he had yet to uncover.
He wanted more time. This was true of many things in his life. He wanted more time with his son, more time to mend his broken marriage, more time to teach his daughter what he could before another man became the most important in her life. And he needed more time before his army had to stand up to a force twice the size in open battle. But there was never enough time.
Henry's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when one of his aides asked for admittance. Henry called the man to come in. "My lord," said the aide, "a party arrives from the north, numbering between twenty and thirty. Their banner is unfamiliar."
The north? That suggested they had come from Atalan, but even after years of strained relations the Pegasus would be recognized by anyone in the camp. The Tok'ra, having been allies more recently, also would have been identified immediately. His eyes narrowing, Henry left the tent and crossed the camp quickly. He noted the arrival of John and Stephen but quickly turned his attention to what several of the soldiers were staring at over the large field before them. Someone handed him a spyglass and Henry held it up, directing it toward the faint cloud of dust in the distance.
The group was on horseback but also had two… he hesitated to call them wagons, but that was the only word Henry could think of that could even come close to describing them. The men wore hooded cloaks, disguising their features, but when Henry shifted to catch a look at the banner they displayed, he didn't need to see their actual appearances to know them.
A hammer and chariot adorned the center of the banner and the edges were lined with various symbols, some of which Henry recognized as representations of wisdom in different cultures while others were completely foreign to him. This was a banner described only in a few of the texts that had survived the Ori purge, so Henry understood why his men did not recognize it. He himself had never seen it with his own eyes, but he knew without a doubt who had come.
The Asgard.
Henry passed the spyglass along. The days were becoming too full of surprises.
Their entrance to the camp was not a grand one filled with pageantry. Instead, a group of seven broke off from the main party and simply rode forward when they saw the signals that permitted them entrance. Henry did not miss the significance to the number of the small party. He was not the most devoted of scholars, but even he knew that the number seven was thought to have magical properties that could lead to good fortune.
John stood to his left and Stephen to his right. The marquis had been as shocked as anyone to see the banner, but Henry knew it would be best to have him close. However limited his exposure to the Asgard had been while in Atalan, that was more than anyone else in the camp had, or in Caldora, for that matter.
When the seven dismounted, Henry was struck by how small they were. On their horses, they appeared as any other men would, but now, their short stature was apparent. The descriptions of the Asgard themselves had never mentioned anything like this. He glanced at John and saw no surprise on his face.
One of the seven led the other six toward them, stopping several feet away. As one, they reached up and pulled their hoods down to reveal seven pale, solemn faces. Henry heard John inhale sharply.
The leader did not give Henry time to look at the marquis as he bowed his head and spoke. "Greetings, Henry of Caldora. I am Thor. We have come to help you."
*~*~*~*
Title: The Snare
Authors: angelqueen04, melyanna, and miera_c
Rating: PG
Summary: In the wake of their surprising victory, the Caldorans turn to diplomacy to stall for time. But the Goa'uld are pursuing a secret agenda of their own.
Three figures on horseback picked their way along the narrow road as dusk fell over the hills. Two of the men appeared almost otherworldly in the evening light, their metal armor making them appear to be more hulking beasts than anything else. Between them, the third man was smaller, thinner, and more alert than his companions. He glanced about not only at the difficult path but at the rocky desert surrounding them.
It had been some days ago now since Ba'al had slipped out of the war camp disguised as one of his own Jaffa. He had kept up the ruse even into the borders of his own holdings, wanting to see and not be seen, not yet.
The message which had come to him from the Queen of Atalan some weeks ago had warned him of the treachery of Anubis. The other lord had seized the lands of his dead lackey, Osiris, and quite possibly was attempting to take control of the territories belonging to the other Goa'uld lords who were now engaged in invading Caldora. Ba'al had determined the only way to know for certain was to see with his own eyes. Hence, he had snuck away like a thief in the night, and been forced to enter his own lands in disguise.
What he saw there kindled a rage in him the like of which he had not known in a long time. Jaffa, loyal to Anubis, patrolled the borders of Ba'al's own lands under the pretense of security. In truth, they were preventing missives from the front lines to reach their destinations, and forwarding forged letters back to the absent lords. With the communications between the lords and their servants stretched so far, it was no difficult matter to seize the messages and manipulate the information to Anubis' personal ends.
Ba'al had journeyed briefly to the edges of Apophis' territories, and found the situation the same. Now they circled around, crossing into Bastet's lands, and again saw Jaffa with the mark of Anubis on their foreheads. He could only assume the same was true for the lands belonging to Heru-ur and Yu, both of whom were also part of the invasion force. Ba'al was not concerned for his fellow lords out of any loyalty or goodness of heart. He could not withstand Anubis' power alone. If most of the lords fell, the survivors would have little hope. His primary objective now was to return to Caldora as quickly as possible and raise the alarm.
His one bit of fortune so far had been to accomplish his mission without being recognized. Now that they were away from his own territories, he left the bulky Jaffa armor off in favor of simple clothes befitting a messenger. His face was not well known here, in lands belonging to Bastet. He should be able to encounter any curious looks without fear. And the Jaffa armor was suffocating him in the heat of the high desert in summer.
The extra traveling had lengthened the trip, but the evidence of his own eyes would hopefully be enough to convince the other lords. Several days of hard riding still lay between him and the camps in Caldora. Unfortunately it was growing too dark to see clearly. They wouldn't make much more progress today.
The Jaffa in front of him halted suddenly, horse rearing and whinnying loudly. In alarm, Ba'al's hand immediately closed about his sword.
Before the Jaffa was a man, dressed simply in a tunic and trousers, holding up a hand in greeting. He seemed to be unaware of blocking the path entirely. Ba'al watched closely for a moment, a feeling of grim foreboding stealing through him.
The stranger shifted his attention from the Jaffa to Ba'al uncertainly for a moment. Then he bowed his head. "My lord."
Ba'al's blood turned to ice. No one was supposed to know he was not in Caldora.
His sword echoed as he drew it swiftly. The interloper seemed to realize his mistake immediately. His face lost its innocent look and darkened with foul purpose. The other Jaffa attempted to bring his horse up alongside his master, but the road was too narrow to allow it. Meanwhile overhead came the sound of rocks dislodging as men stepped out of hiding places. Jaffa, loyal to Anubis, flanked them along the cliff to their right.
They had walked straight into an ambush.
*~*~*~*
The tent represented everything that was wrong with the invasion of Caldora. Bright silks were swagged over their heads and adorned the walls. Golden figures of serpents, falcons, and other animals were displayed in various little corners and in every other possible place. Even the lanterns were works of art. Bastet cursed whoever gave permission for Heru-ur to put up the central tent. They were in the middle of a campaign and he had taken the time to match the colors of the silks? The fabrics only made the air inside the tent more oppressive.
She was used to the heat, even if her own lands were in the mountains, but in this accursed plain, the very air seemed to seep water. The Jaffa were falling out from prostration, and their heavy armor grew rusted in the afternoon rains. Insects swarmed thickly over the sewers, and Bastet more than once wondered to herself how they had been convinced to want to conquer such a place.
Still, they had come too far to stop now, and the Caldorans were in dire need of a lesson in humility.
"This is ridiculous," Apophis growled from his position to her left. He was looking over battle plans, hastily drawn up in the last two days. "We should go forth and end this now. If we attacked their central camp," he pointed at the map on the table, "we could overrun them with sheer numbers. The flower of Caldoran nobility is present there, along with their king. We could wipe them out and make straight for Redwater."
Apophis had suffered the greatest losses in the recent attack by the Caldorans. Of all the lords present, he was the most eager to retaliate.
"Killing the king - or better still, capturing him - would demoralize the entire country," Heru-ur agreed as he grasped another goblet of wine.
After losing a full third of their forces to the much smaller Caldoran army, Bastet was by no means as confident that they could overcome the defenders so easily. Victory would be theirs in the end, of course, but a full scale assault now would cost too many Jaffa. She herself was not in a position to waste her slaves if it could be avoided. Bastet shook her head, saying aloud, "That would still leave their princess and queen to rally the country."
Heru-ur snorted. "What could two women possibly do?"
Complete silence fell within the tent. Bastet raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for her silent message to penetrate the liquor fumes that had clouded his brain. "Ah," he finally said. "Of course, that is-"
Heru-ur's fumbling was cut off when the tent flaps were pulled back and a single figure entered the tent from the muddy path outside. Bastet and the others all looked up.
"Forgive my tardiness, my lords and lady," Zipacna of the Edenan Hills said. "I was conducting a review of my troops and only just received the message for this gathering."
Bastet nodded to him, but sneered inwardly. For all of his pretentiousness, Zipacna was little more than a minor lieutenant of Anubis' retinue. While Osiris had also pledged allegiance to Anubis, he had higher rank and prestige and had been a vocal advocate for this attack. But both Anubis and Osiris had claimed either illness or trouble in their lands which kept them from joining in the campaign directly, and thus Zipacna was there to represent the interests of his betters.
Which left the other lords in Caldora to endure the insincere pandering of a low-level toady while they coordinated the invasion. The insult rankled with all of them.
"We were debating the merits of attacking the Caldorans and overrunning them," Apophis said in a flat voice.
Zipacna nodded and joined them at the table after removing his finely-made cloak, but Bastet turned to Apophis. "It will do you no good to speak of attacking at dawn, my lord. Lord Ba'al's absence here prevents us from making such an enormous move. We must be united in this decision and a precipitate attack could very well cost us much of what we have already gained."
They had faced almost no resistance since crossing the river into Caldora until a few days prior. Small pockets of fighting had broken out, but the army had retreated miles and miles before the invaders. Mere days ago the mood in this tent had been assured and jubilant as the Goa'uld pressed unimpeded toward the capital at Redwater. Now they needed to reassess what the enemy was capable of. Much as it pained her to admit, even to herself, Ba'al's cunning was something they were in dire need of now. Apophis hissed at her, "So shall we sit here and sink into the mud while he seeks pleasure in whatever whores he brought along?"
No one knew why Ba'al was suddenly unreachable. The lord's First Prime stood guard at the tent and refused entrance to all. Bastet had considered more than once killing the smirking Jaffa and forcing her way in, but she still feared Ba'al's wrath. Also such an act could lead to open conflict among the Goa'uld, which was the very last thing they could afford now.
"I do not believe Lord Ba'al whiles his days away gorging his appetites while in the midst of this enterprise. He, unlike many others," she growled, glaring at him pointedly, "exercises control of his baser instincts."
Apophis opened his mouth to reply, but Heru-ur cut in. "How noble of you to defend him, Lady Bastet. Tell us, has he visited your bed in the hopes that you would defend him when he was busy elsewhere?"
That was the last straw. Snarling, Bastet leaned across the table. "Who do you take me for? Qetesh? I-"
"Silence, you childish fools."
Everyone turned toward the last two people present in the central tent. Yu was perhaps the oldest of the coalition of Goa'uld lords, and because of that, one of the most experienced. He sat in a corner, his First Prime standing at his right hand, glaring at them.
"You sit here and squabble with each other for nothing. There is work to be done," Yu stated, his eyes raking over each one of them. Bastet struggled not to shiver. "We suffered heavy losses and cannot afford another such mistake. We cannot move forward with an attack at this time, so we must seek another option. Cease your bickering."
For several moments, no one moved, unsure whether the argument would continue with the others ranged against Yu, but finally Bastet leaned back and settled into a more relaxed stance. Apophis and Heru-ur followed suit. The old man was correct in that they could not afford to waste the day arguing over petty matters.
As if nothing had occurred, Zipacna inquired blandly, "What do you recommend, my lord?"
*~*~*~*
For Cameron and his cousin, the days following the battle were spent burying the dead. More than once Cameron had found himself with the Sodan as they honored the Jaffa who had fallen in service to their cruel masters. He was strangely drawn to this group of wandering warriors. At first they were interested only in his help in digging graves for the dead, but eventually they allowed him to stay when the bodies were lowered into the earth.
One day, at dusk, he worked up the nerve to ask a warrior about his age to tell him why it was so important to honor the dead of the enemy in this manner. Jolan had looked at him with sadness in his eyes and said, "They are not our enemies, but our brothers. We have brought ourselves shame in killing them. The only way to absolve ourselves is to honor them."
Though he had not thought it possible, the nights were more stressful and more draining. They were spent arguing with the nobility over Caldora's next course of action. Most of the lords didn't know what they were talking about. Unfortunately, Stephen Caldwell did know what he was talking about, and usually he was their principle opponent.
On this particular evening he was seated opposite the table from Cameron and John, flanked on either side by his supporters. Chief among them was David, Earl of Dixon. Cameron knew that John was more displeased with that development than he let on. It seemed like John was taking everything personally these days, including this debate.
In another life John probably never would have proposed it, but in recent days he and Cameron had been arguing with the noblemen that they should go to the Goa'uld under the pretense of offering to negotiate a peace settlement. No one, including themselves, believed that the Goa'uld would settle anything without more bloodshed. What Caldora needed most just now was more men, but second to that was time. Reinforcements were on the way, but the Caldorans needed to give them time to arrive and somehow stave off a Goa'uld assault until then. Negotiations might be a ridiculous façade, but they might accomplish such a task.
Cameron focused his attention on Caldwell, who seemed to be winding up a rant. "We forced them back and gained the upper hand," he was saying, his voice filling the tent. "Plying them for negotiations now would show them weakness and waste what we have accomplished. We cannot sit idly by and cede what momentum we have gained!"
"Do you truly wish to strike at them when they still outnumber us two to one?" John demanded incredulously. The conversation sounded quite redundant to Cameron by now. "You know as well as anyone that we cannot reproduce our attack. They will be on their guard for a surprise assault. Our only choice would be open battle on the plains, where they would have every advantage of men and supplies. No, my lord duke, we may have knocked the wind from their sails, but to confront them now in battle is madness!"
Cameron blinked at the odd turn of phrase his cousin had used. He was not the only one in the room confused and caught off-guard by strange words.
After the moment had passed, Caldwell chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table before him. "Lord John, in the last week you have called me both mad and a fool. Which is it to be?"
John shifted, his body dangerously relaxed. "Can it not be both?"
Caldwell pushed back from the table. "That's it -"
"Enough, both of you," said the king, his voice cutting through everything. He gave stern looks around the room at all of them, but most especially to his two highest nobles.
"Lord John," Lord Maybourne interjected, "you must concede that we have little reason to believe that the Tok'ra will be here to aid us any time soon."
Cameron braced himself for an outburst from his quick-tempered cousin, but instead John sighed heavily. "I have told you already," he said, "that I have had it in a letter from Jonathan, Marquis of Neill, commander of Queen Elizabeth's army. He has no reason to mislead us."
The usual rumblings about Atalan began, though Cameron thought they had lost some of their vehemence in recent weeks. It was, perhaps, because these lords were eating meat preserved with Atalan's salt and bread baked with Atalan's grain. Or that it had quickly become established that the Marquis of Sheppard reacted vehemently to such comments. King Henry held up a hand, however, and looked John. "May I see the letter, again, Lord John?" Looking somewhat annoyed, John produced the letter from Jonathan of Neill and handed it over.
The king perused the note quickly. "And how long ago did you say this was written?" he asked quietly.
"I received it five days ago," John repeated, calming down considerably. "My understanding is that Jack went to southern Neill at the queen's order, and my best guess is that he is at one of the watchtowers in the mountains. At most, I would say this information is a fortnight old."
Jack of Neill had informed them that help was three weeks away when he wrote the letter. It was that which gave Cameron the most hope now. Even if Neill had overestimated the Tok'ra's speed over the mountains, help was almost at hand. And Cameron trusted John's judgment of the Atalanian man's character. If John believed him, so did Cameron.
Landry folded the letter up again as he stood. The congregation stood with him. "We will speak of this again tomorrow," he said, loud enough to be heard over the scraping of chairs. "Lord John, a word."
Though he had not been asked as well, Cameron followed John and the king to a corner of the tent while the rest filed out. The king did not ask him to give them privacy. "You know as well as I do that this plan of yours is like as not to fail," Landry said to John. "Madness, even compared to your last plan."
"May I point out that were it not for my last lunatic scheme, we would likely not be here to discuss a new one?" John asked, his voice dripping with annoyance.
The king narrowed his eyes. "You may not, sir."
To Cameron's surprise, John did not back down as he ought to have. Instead, he stared the king in the eye and said no words of apology. Cameron knew not what had passed between the men, but he knew that John had spoken to Landry late into the previous night. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Cameron knew that exhaustion made his cousin dangerously unpredictable.
There was a commotion at the other end of the tent, distracting all three men. Two soldiers were dragging in a third man who was wearing some sort of armor, pushing through the nobles who were trying to get out.
Reprimands forgotten, Landry, John, and Cameron all hurried forward to see what was going on. "My lord, this man has just come from the Goa'uld camp!" one of the soldiers said, shaking the arm of the visitor.
"I come with a message," the strangely dressed man said loudly enough to silence and still the room. In his hand was paper with a wax seal on it.
"Release him," the king ordered, somewhat angrily. Cameron did his best to glare at the two men who'd brought the herald in. The army, coming off such an impossible victory, was spoiling for a fight, but that was no excuse for violating such an important protocol.
At the king's nod, Cameron took the note from the herald and handed it to Landry. He unfolded it slowly, and it seemed as though everyone was holding his breath while the king read.
Then Landry looked up and addressed the herald. "Did you come alone?" he asked.
After a moment's pause, the man nodded.
Landry looked to the head of his personal guard. "See to it that one of your men accompanies this herald until he has left our camp," he said. "We would not wish anything to befall him while he is in our hands."
The captain led the herald away. The two soldiers who had brought him in followed. Caldwell, Dixon, Maybourne, and a few others began to crowd around the king. Once the soldiers were well out of the tent, Landry looked around at the men who surrounded him, his face showing confusion and disbelief. "My lord?" Caldwell prompted.
"I hardly know what to say," the king replied lowly. He looked at John. "The Goa'uld have asked to negotiate with us."
*~*~*~*
Over the distant eastern hills, the sun was rising at an agonizingly slow pace, and Carolyn of Landry was having a hard time staying still. This early in the morning, she was usually just waking up, but today she was already fully dressed, having eaten breakfast and looked over a brief summary of the day's activities, which had been compiled for her by Lord Paul Davis.
Today, though, Carolyn's mother was arriving in Redwater, and Carolyn was waiting.
It had been a long time since she had watched a sunrise from the castle, and for a moment it took her breath away. From her father's study she could see the river that flowed beyond the city. The soil in this part of the country was reddish, giving that tint to the river anyway, but now, as the sun climbed to just the right place in the eastern sky, the river ran red like blood.
A chill ran down Carolyn's spine at the image that evoked, now that nearly every able man of Caldora was upon a battlefield in the west. She prayed silently that this was not an omen.
There was a knock and she turned to see Sir Walter Harriman standing uncertainly in the entrance to the study. She nodded to him, and he cleared his throat. "Princess, your mother's party has arrived. Where will you receive her?"
"In her sitting room." The previous day, she had had the queen's chambers scrubbed clean in preparation for this.
Walter nodded once, and Carolyn watched him go. Not for the first time, she wondered how her father was coping without the man. He was attentive and dutiful, and moreover a great help in everything.
She left as well, heading to the chambers her mother had not used in the years since William's death. Truthfully, she was still a little surprised that the queen had consented to come back to Redwater at all, even at Carolyn's request.
Aurelia was removing a dusty traveling cloak when Carolyn entered the sitting room. "Carolyn, child, what is going on?" she asked. "I came as soon as I could."
"I need your help, Mother," Carolyn began, but her mother did not let her continue.
"I haven't seen you since we received news of the invasion." Aurelia waved her maids off and sat in a chair when mother and daughter were left alone. "I don't know why your father summoned you here in the first place, but why did you not come home again?"
As best she could, Carolyn strove to keep any of a dozen emotions from showing. She had assumed that someone - anyone - had informed her mother already of why she was still in Redwater. That responsibility should have been her father's, and she beat back a twinge of irritation at him. "Mother, Father left me as his regent," she explained.
Her mother was clearly nothing short of stunned. Aurelia tugged furiously at her gloves and slapped them onto the table nearby. "He has left a nineteen-year-old girl to govern the country while he is off at war," she said, mostly to herself. Carolyn tried not to bristle at her words, even though she too had thought that her age and sex would impede her authority. "Has he gone mad?"
Carolyn counted to five before speaking. "He trusts me," she said. "Besides, why else would you imagine he has wanted me to spend time here in Redwater? I will be queen someday, and I must be able to fulfill my duties as such."
She noticed that her mother avoided her gaze. "Do you plan to change history, Carolyn?" Aurelia asked. "Overturn centuries of law and tradition in Caldora and rule on your own, like the young queen in the north?"
Carolyn shook her head. "I have no desire to rule alone," she replied. "You know that."
"My child," Aurelia said, rising and looking at Carolyn again, "it seems there are a great many things I do not know."
The queen swept out of the sitting room, leaving Carolyn stunned. Perhaps summoning her had been a mistake after all.
"Mother," she called, hurrying after Aurelia into her bedchamber. "Mother, that is not fair."
Aurelia looked at Carolyn and let out a short, harsh sigh. "Why did you ask me to come, Carolyn?" she asked.
Carolyn frowned, not wanting to change the subject but knowing how intractable her mother could be sometimes. "I need help," she replied. "From someone I can trust."
"Whom did your father leave here?" Aurelia asked, turning to a table to remove her hat and caul. "Whatever his faults I cannot imagine he left you friendless here."
"Of course not," Carolyn replied. "Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm are here, as well as Walter."
"That is all?"
"The men were needed elsewhere," she said crossly. "I am not sure he could spare those three."
"That was not meant as a rebuke of you or your father," Aurelia replied.
Carolyn looked away, knowing that her temper was starting to get the best of her. "You still have connections within the court, Mother," she said. "Experience that I simply do not have. Lord Davis and Sir Malcolm know this court intimately, but they can only do so much by themselves. Father's ministers are all gone otherwise, and we agreed that you were the best hope for help now."
When Aurelia looked back again, her expression was one of sympathy, but a little pained as well. "No, you do not have my experience," she said, almost to herself.
Carolyn crossed the room then and took her mother's hand. "Will you help me, Mother?" she asked.
Aurelia cupped her cheek. "I will," she replied, "but I do not know what miracle you are expecting from me."
"That is a pity," Carolyn answered, "for I am expecting miracles from everyone now."
Her mother smiled wryly and patted her cheek. "You do have your father's wit now and then."
Squeezing Aurelia's hand, Carolyn turned to go. "Breakfast will be in a quarter of an hour," she said. "We have meetings to attend immediately after."
Her mother followed her to the door. "I'm beginning to remember why I left," she replied, closing the door behind her.
*~*~*~*
Secluded in his tent, Henry sighed quietly as he read over the brief message from the Goa'uld for the hundredth time. Despite the fact that accepting the request would give them some superiority, not being the ones supplicating themselves from the beginning, Henry was no closer to making a decision that he had been before the previous afternoon. He would freely admit that Lord John's proposal of negotiations had had merit, but truthfully he feared it would not be enough.
More worrisome was precisely why the Goa'uld were making this request. Yes, the Caldorans had inflicted a hard blow, but the Jaffa still outnumbered the army twice over. Some of the nobles were sure this was a sign of the Goa'uld acknowledging the strength and will of the Caldoran soldiers, but Henry was not so sanguine. He'd heard too much in recent weeks of the Goa'uld's tendencies towards deception. He worried there was some other motive at play that he had yet to uncover.
He wanted more time. This was true of many things in his life. He wanted more time with his son, more time to mend his broken marriage, more time to teach his daughter what he could before another man became the most important in her life. And he needed more time before his army had to stand up to a force twice the size in open battle. But there was never enough time.
Henry's thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt when one of his aides asked for admittance. Henry called the man to come in. "My lord," said the aide, "a party arrives from the north, numbering between twenty and thirty. Their banner is unfamiliar."
The north? That suggested they had come from Atalan, but even after years of strained relations the Pegasus would be recognized by anyone in the camp. The Tok'ra, having been allies more recently, also would have been identified immediately. His eyes narrowing, Henry left the tent and crossed the camp quickly. He noted the arrival of John and Stephen but quickly turned his attention to what several of the soldiers were staring at over the large field before them. Someone handed him a spyglass and Henry held it up, directing it toward the faint cloud of dust in the distance.
The group was on horseback but also had two… he hesitated to call them wagons, but that was the only word Henry could think of that could even come close to describing them. The men wore hooded cloaks, disguising their features, but when Henry shifted to catch a look at the banner they displayed, he didn't need to see their actual appearances to know them.
A hammer and chariot adorned the center of the banner and the edges were lined with various symbols, some of which Henry recognized as representations of wisdom in different cultures while others were completely foreign to him. This was a banner described only in a few of the texts that had survived the Ori purge, so Henry understood why his men did not recognize it. He himself had never seen it with his own eyes, but he knew without a doubt who had come.
The Asgard.
Henry passed the spyglass along. The days were becoming too full of surprises.
Their entrance to the camp was not a grand one filled with pageantry. Instead, a group of seven broke off from the main party and simply rode forward when they saw the signals that permitted them entrance. Henry did not miss the significance to the number of the small party. He was not the most devoted of scholars, but even he knew that the number seven was thought to have magical properties that could lead to good fortune.
John stood to his left and Stephen to his right. The marquis had been as shocked as anyone to see the banner, but Henry knew it would be best to have him close. However limited his exposure to the Asgard had been while in Atalan, that was more than anyone else in the camp had, or in Caldora, for that matter.
When the seven dismounted, Henry was struck by how small they were. On their horses, they appeared as any other men would, but now, their short stature was apparent. The descriptions of the Asgard themselves had never mentioned anything like this. He glanced at John and saw no surprise on his face.
One of the seven led the other six toward them, stopping several feet away. As one, they reached up and pulled their hoods down to reveal seven pale, solemn faces. Henry heard John inhale sharply.
The leader did not give Henry time to look at the marquis as he bowed his head and spoke. "Greetings, Henry of Caldora. I am Thor. We have come to help you."
*~*~*~*