The rising sun, just starting to peek over the horizon, had not yet dispelled the night’s chill, nor the early morning mists which clung low over rolling hills and scattered clumps of trees as Princess Doria rode her fine mare over the field. She raised a hand and behind her ten score riders reined in their mounts with skill and precision. Each woman was equipped for war, in fine suits of silver scale mail, high helms crested with horsetail plumes, lances in one hand, shields in the other. The elite cavalry, Pride of the Amazonian forces and its most potent weapon against the invaders. 

Seconia, Doria’s lieutenant, walked her horse up beside the Princess. Raising a gauntleted hand, she indicated the sun, rising just a little off to the right. “Your highness, is that not Silver Spring Hill that the sun rises across. If that is the case, we’re right where we ought to be.” Her voice held a touch of pride. They’d ridden hard through the night, with only sporadic starlight to guide them through the dark countryside, yet somehow their course had held true.

Princess Doria nodded, not saying a word. Objections had been made during the council of war when her elder sister, Crown Princess Valaria, had proposed this strategy. It was a daring strategy, to be sure, but risky. A night march, circling around the invading army, could put 200 heavy cavalry in the perfect position to strike the men from the flank or rear on the day of battle, winning the war in a single, decisive strike. On the other hand, night marches were tricky, even in friendly and familiar territory like this. Had the women lost their way in the dark or if the invaders had spotted them and laid an ambush, it would deprive Valaria of her best troops.

Her only real troops, really… Most of the rest of the army were little more than militia companies; peasant levies, hurriedly raised once word had reached the capital that a large force of men from overseas had once again landed on the Amazonian shores, burning coastal villages and rounding up their terrified populace. Waiting for more experienced soldiers to arrive from distant garrisons would have guaranteed victory but there was always the risk the invaders would choose to depart, taking their captives with them, to be sold into slavery in their captor’s far off lands. 

That the amazons were blessed by their Goddess with beauty and grace that surpassed all other women, was a point of pride, but that also made them objects of desire by the foreign kingdoms of men. Every few years, it seemed, fresh invaders would cross the sea, seeking to seize as many women and girls as they could before they were driven away. Between these major inclusions, pirates cruised the coastline, despite the best efforts of Amazonian warships to keep them at bay, snatching lone Amazons from beaches and isolated communities with distressing regularity. 

“We’ll station the women there.” Princess Doria declared, pointing to a narrow hollow at the base of a line of hills which, if they were in the right spot, separated them from what would shortly be a battlefield. “That will keep them out of sight, until the signal is given.” 

“How will we know it is given if we’re hidden away?” Seconia asked. 

“You and I will ride up.” Doria replied, pointing to the top of the hill. "That clump of trees will screen us from sight and we’ll be able to keep lookout.” 

Bowing her head in acknowledgement of the order, the Princess’ second-in-command rode back and relayed the instructions to the rest of the riders. As the troop of heavy cavalry trotted into the hollow, their commanders rode up to the top of the hill.

Ahead of them, the battlefield was laid out in panorama. The early morning mists had cleared away, letting them see everything. Towards the south, lines of warrior women formed up: spearwomen in tight ranks, marching beneath banners with the sigils of their home provinces, while out in front, skirmishers in looser order ranged forward, to harass the invaders with slings and javelins before retiring behind the front lines before the melee began in earnest. 

Opposite them, the invaders were massing in similar blocks of infantry and lighter skirmishers. They had little in the way of cavalry. Horses were tricky to transport so far overseas and besides which, the space a single warhorse took up in the hold of one of the men’s transport ships could easily hold half a dozen or more Amazonian captives, tightly bound and packed close together. Given the values such captives would fetch in the slave markets back home, it was easy to see why the men would choose to do without. Still, the lack of horsemen left their flanks and rear exceedingly vulnerable to the Amazon’s own horsewomen if they could attack them. That had been a major factor in forming Princess Valaria’s strategy. 

The men advanced boldly towards the Amazons, clearly confident. Though the Amazonian forces arrayed in front of them had had the advantage in terms of numbers, nearly all of those were militia in padded cloth jackets and leather helms, while their opponents were amply supplied with chainmail and steel helms. The fight would be short and one-sided without the intervention of the Amazon’s hidden reserve of armored cavalry. 

“Ride down and see the girls are ready.” Doria told her subordinates as the two sides got close enough to begin sending showers of missiles arcing between each other. “The signal could come at any minute.” As the other woman bowed and rose back down the hill, Doria turned back to watch the battle unfold. 

There, in the center of the line, she spotted the household banner of her sister. True to the daring, impetus royal’s nature, she was leading the advance in person, followed by a small knot of her personal household warriors. Unlike their poorer comrades, the highborn women were well equipped in heavy scale armor, crested helms and thick shields. 

Like the iron tip of a spear, the Amazons plunged straight into the belly of the invader’s line, the weaker wood shaft of militiawomen following behind. The invaders, taken by surprise by the aggressive attack, wavered, giving ground in the center. Such a bold attack would be doomed, however, once the enemy recovered from the surprise at the strike and counterattacked. With the flanking forces lagging behind, Princess and those with her in the center would find themselves all but surrounded, in the heart of the enemy’s ranks. Of course, if the men should suffer another shock to their morale, such as a sudden cavalry attack on their flank, while still confused and disorganized, the invaders would certainly shatter and run. 

At the center of the melee, just behind where the Princess, visible in her fine silver armor, was engaged in furious combat with several men, her standard bearer suddenly raised a new flag, this one a bright red, unmistakable even at a distance. She waved it frantically, off to the west where Doria watched from. The younger Princess smiled, letting a measure of pity touch her heart for those brave women who had followed her sister straight into a trap without knowing it. 

Ever since Princess Valaria had announced her plan at the war council, Doria had been mulling over this betrayal. After all, it would only take one lucky sword thrust or arrow to secure Doria’s accession to the throne instead of her haughty, self confident older sister. Even so, until that moment, she hadn’t been entirely sure if she would go through with it. One word from her, given or not, would decide the fate of so many…

“Did you ever consider this possibility, sister?” Doria said quietly to herself, “Did you have any worries about giving me this command?” She shook her head, coming to a decision. “No, that’s not you. You never considered anything could go wrong for you in your charmed life.” 

Down below, the scarlet banner fell, as the woman waving it was wrestled to the ground by several men. By now, the invaders had recovered from their surprise at the Amazon’s impetuous attack and, realizing how weak it really was, counter attacked. 

The less experienced, less well equipped militia at the back of Princess Valaria’s thrust wavered and fell back. Their sisters further up, as well as the Princess and her house guard, held firm. A fatal gap appeared between the two forces, one which the invaders were quick to take advantage of. In a flash, they had the foremost element of the Amazon force surrounded. The rest of the army, unable to see their beloved Princess and General, wavered doubtfully. At the back, those first cowards began to slip away from a fight they saw as lost anyway. Soon enough, more would join in the flight and it would be lost in truth. 

Turning away from the sight, Doria walked her horse back down into the hollow where the company of horsewomen waited. On the way, she contorted her sly grin into an expression of anguish, better suited for the moment. “The attack failed.” She informed her shocked subordinate. “The militia broke on first contact with the enemy, leaving the Princess surrounded and cut off.” 

“The signal…” The other amazon said, clinging to hope in her disbelief at how quickly the day had turned against them. 

Doria shook her head. “It was never given.” She lied. 

    “We could still charge anyway, your Highness.” Seconia suggested. “Fight our way to Princess Valaria and save her…” She was cut off by a dismissive gesture by Doria. 

“We would only be throwing our lives, or our freedom, away.” She told her subordinate. “We would be better employed screening the retreat of the rest of the army. The last I saw, the enemy pressed them hard. Without aid, many will fall into their clutches.” She didn’t need to elaborate. All knew the fate that awaited any Amazon captured by men: cruel slavery and bondage. She softened her tone, placing a hand on the despondent woman’s shoulder. “The battle is lost, but fear not. It is only a battle lost, not the war. And losing a Princess is not the same as losing the whole realm. We shall yet drive these invaders from our shores, with the Goddess’ aid.”

Seconia nodded, pain clear on her face, but she turned and issued the orders, dutifully. Silently, the armored horsewomen trotted their mounts forward, not to the battlefield where the remaining pockets of trapped soldiers could still be heard, fighting desperately, but southward, to try and salvage something from the route.