Night

Lord Tem watched the Lady Commander's hands as she shuffled through papers, occasionally moving a marker on the map. He liked watching the Lady Commander. She was a contradiction in many ways. Unlike the Lady Knights of the realm, she was not hard muscles and scars; her hands were not rough with sword calluses. Nor were they a lady's dainty little hands meant for nothing more than embroidery or playing music. Her's were soft, gentle, and warm. Hands made to hold infants, to ease aching muscles, soothe fevers, and quiet the nightmares that years of battle left in their wake. Her brown eyes were not shielded with rage and hate and lust for battle, but like her hands, soft and warm, quick to merriment but missing nothing. Her outward appearance spoke of a comfortable home with good food and lots of children, of warm lazy days in the summer, and playful dark nights in the winter. It hid the mind that had crushed the kingdom's enemies to dust every time they road to war.

The soft glow of the lights added to the illusion as she shifted the markers of the enemy lines. The Lady Commander usually worked through the night, sleeping during the hottest time of the day in a wagon designed to keep the heat and bright light from her. The King had once laughingly called her his little snow flake. She had smiled and lowered her eyes demurely while her skin had flushed. The King took great pleasure in making her blush. Tem liked her like this; peaceful, intent, in her element; the soft light, the cool night breeze; her robes of office discarded for simple garments. She had let her hair down and now it hung down and over one shoulder in a loose braid. The candlelight added hints of red and gold to the brown locks as the flickered in the occational desert breeze.

Even as his eyes followed her movements, his ears were drawn away from the shuffle of papers to the sounds of the camp. The sounds were shifting from the tranquility of rest to strife. He shifted his weight so that he was closer to her.

The Lady Commander's head snapped up an instant before the flaps of the door flew open. The guard who stumbled in and fell to the ground was filthy, half covered in blood, and almost incoherent. Lord Tem caught the words "attack" and "intruders". The Lady Commander had risen to her feet and was moving around the desk to the fallen man, but was stopped when Tem grabbed her arm and dragged her out the back of her tent. He stopped long enough to assess the situation and to wrap a dark blue cloak around her, more to hide her from prying eyes than from the cool air. The fighting seemed to be concentrated in one area but he could see figures moving between the tents who did not look like his men.

"This isn't right. Tem. Wait." She pulled her arm, looking back the way they came. "The Lurmites are weeks away from us. I need..."
"To follow orders." Tem snapped. He wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her along and keeping her on her feet across the soft sand. He could just make out the gleam of the chariot he always had waiting; armored, guarded, and provisioned. His men were dressed in dark greys and browns just as he to hide them in the night.
"Tem. That information." She tried to pull back again.
"Is not worth your life. Don't make me carry you."
"Oh for crying out loud, Tem. It's probably just raiders." He knew she was rolling her eyes, as she spoke, "And they are your orders, not mine."
He half lifted her into the chariot and noted with satisfaction that she immediately crouched down under the armored lip at the front of it.
"The last time it was raiders, you ended up with a poisoned knife in your shoulder."
"Arm. It was my arm. And I was fine." she grumbled.
"You were sick for a week. Now quiet or I'll gag you." He knew she was probably glaring at him but the dark obscured all but her profile. Her face was lit up as a tent caught fire. She was looking back past him. Her eyes were bright with wonder and a bit of longing.

"They are here for me." It was more a breath then actual words. As if her thoughts had escaped on her breath. Tem spun in the sand, drawing his sword. His men's swords already bared as they moved to engage the dark figures. Tem barely caught her as the Lady Commander sprang from her spot. He snapped her back into her spot and winced as her head connected with the metal with a clang and she curled into a ball gripping her head. He spared a second to clamp a shackle around her ankle before turning back to face the fighting only to find most of his men were down and the attackers closing in on them. He stepped back, up onto the chariot, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the charioteer while facing the battle. He watched as some of his best men were cut down by shadows. Shadows who were not simple raiders. He braced himself with his free hand.

"Go."
The fighting and lights fled away as the night mares dragged them into darkness. Lord Tem sheathed his sword as the light of the camp faded and settled himself into place, taking comfort in the warmth pressed into his lower legs.