Pelekarr squatted down next to the prince. He gave a grim little chuckle. “You misunderstand me.”
“I think I understand very well. Kill me, or not. It matters little. But I will swear no oath.”
Pelekarr waved a hand. “I do not ask for myself. I know your enmity towards me will be eternal. I ask on behalf of these settlers.”
Uthek stared, uncomprehending.
“Swear that you will bring them no harm, nor knowingly send others to harm them, and you may go free,” Pelekarr said.
The prince pondered this for a long moment. The dried blood cracked on his face as his jaw muscles contorted and bulged. He realized what was being offered: a complete shifting of the vengeance his people would surely desire, from the Ostoran woodsmen and their families to the soldier in front of him. To the fighting men that had made this bloodshed possible.
Perian studied him from the saddle with equal parts disdain and fascination. She, better than any of the others, knew the torment the captive endured as his desire for freedom vied with his pride and hatred.
“I will swear,” Uthek growled at last. “May the Demon Bear devour your heart, kalvach pawtoon.”
“It is well,” Pelekarr replied. “Now, tell me again exactly what you have sworn.”
Uthek darted the captain a look of purest venom. “I swear… I swear to leave the settlers here unmolested, nor to send others to harm them. On the spirits of my fathers I swear it.” His eyes blazed. “My quarrel was never with them, anyway. It is you and you alone I wish to kill.”
Pelekarr looked at Perian, who nodded.
“He’ll keep his word,” she said, “until he can find a way around it that gets him what he wants while maintaining honor.”
“Yes, she-devil, I’ll keep my word! But what of you? What was your price? Traitor! You are worse by far than they! I see your hand in the coming of the centipede. Witch! I shall not forget!”
Pelekarr rose to his feet. “Loose him into the forest.”
Uthek kept his gaze fastened on the captain as his guards freed him. His mouth was set in a wild grin.
“I will see you soon, pawtoon. I swore no oath to spare you or your soldiers. When next we meet, look for a reversal of these fortunes!”
“I expect nothing less,” Pelekarr replied, and walked away. Perian goaded the horse forward to match the captain’s pace.
“I cannot tell,” she said after a moment, “whether you are fearless or foolish. The prince of the Silverpath is a dangerous adversary to let go, as you have learned. He will come against you once more, as soon as he is able.”
“I am counting on it.” The captain frowned. “But I think it will be some time before that trouble comes. Our reluctant guest has led men to their deaths for the second time now and walked away unscathed. Many of his people will not like that, to say nothing of his father, this powerful chieftain you told me of. And then others will stand by him in spite of it; I noted a fierce loyalty among his young men.”
“Yes, all this is true. What do you see in it but future killing?”
“A power struggle among the Silverpath would be… opportune, would it not? Internal dissensions among the most powerful of your native clans? Far more desirable than a second warpack coming to avenge their heroic prince’s death, with his grieving father at its head.”
Perian stared at the captain. Her sudden grin was lopsided but wide. “Yes, it would. You have a cunning mind, Captain.”
Pelekarr met her gaze, eyes wide with pious sincerity. “Cunning? Oh, no. When the gods grant us opportunities, it would be remiss—not to mention sacrilegious—to ignore their favors.”
CHAPTER 38: TAKING LEAVE
The next day for the infantry was an exercise in calculated triumph, one which Damicos both admired and despised.
A wagon carried the mammoth’s head around the city streets, its garlanded wheels and sides standing in stark visual contrast to the gore-soaked fur and stained tusks. The people cheered themselves hoarse at this evidence of their queen’s triumph, uncaring that it had been made possible only with the arrival of paid outsiders.
Leisha knew that spectacle was everything; she gave them spectacle, and they loved her for it. Dogs ran behind the wagon, licking up the blood that spilled from the creaking boards, and Damicos pondered the incongruity of the divine made vulgar.
The heathen gods are weak, he told himself, and he still almost believed it.
A banquet followed. Lavish feasting for Damicos and his officers in the central keep, preceded by a speech in the square wherein the infantry captain’s virtues were extolled in a grand speech.
Praise from a queen was gratifying, but Damicos had other concerns that dampened his ability to enjoy it. He could do nothing but appear flattered and grateful, trusting none of what was said in his honor. He felt like a prize pig being held up by the butcher. He played the part, all the while watching for a chance to have a private word with the head guardian of the city.
He caught up with Gladwin once the banquet was over, and they walked outside and along the streets together in the late evening air, damp and cool this close to the mountains. The towering wooden buildings on all sides blotted out most of the stars and made Damicos feel cramped and confined. He was ill at ease, and decided to forgo a clumsy attempt at subtlety in favor of directness, anticipating that a fellow warrior would appreciate that approach more than guile. In any case, he already knew Gladwin distrusted him and he wasted no time trying to befriend the man.
“Your queen,” he told the beastrider in low tones, “goes too far in her machinations against the people of the coast. I fear she has lost her ability to reason clearly. Her desire for long-awaited vengeance has eaten away at her mind.”
He waited for Gladwin’s response, assuming it would be defensive and angry and that he would have to find a way to convince the man to see the truth. Instead, Gladwin simply nodded.
“You agree with my concern, then?” Damicos asked, stopping and turning to face the guardian.
“Her Highness has a very strong will,” Gladwin slowly replied. “She is both cunning and ruthless. Do not underestimate her ability, especially now that she believes us capable of leaving our isolated stronghold.”
“I do not underestimate her. That is why I am speaking with you now. She is dangerous—more dangerous even than you may know, and I am eager to prevent her madness from overcoming everything you have built here, the future we won together against the mammoth. Her unrestrained lust for revenge may even sow the seeds of destruction for all civilization in this land.”
Gladwin rubbed his chin, staring down the street. His eyes looked pained. “I have struggled to contain her more forceful tendencies for many years now. It is a difficult balance to keep.”
“Listen to me,” the captain quickly went on, lowering his voice even more to prevent any eavesdroppers from overhearing. “The bloodshed she would unleash upon the coast cannot be underestimated. The situation there is such that I fear she might do far more damage in less time than she thinks, in ways that would leave the very future of this land in doubt. I cannot allow her to march on the towns of Ostora without advance warning.”
Gladwin frowned. “I cannot openly betray my queen.”
Damicos caught the operative word the man had uttered and pounced. “Not openly, of course. But if you could assist me in moving out ahead of the queen so that I can get to the coast and make preparations to limit the bloodshed…”
“What are you asking for?”
“I need supplies for my men—enough food to march quickly out of here and reach the frontier before she does.”
Gladwin’s eyes widened, but he characteristically held his silence until he had words to say. “It is… difficult for me to even think of such a betrayal.”
“Of course it is. But it may be the most important thing you ever do for your people, not to mention countless Ostorans. The alternative is to follow the queen’s whims into darkness and death. You can’t want t
hat. Think of your people.”
“I will not overthrow her, either with you or anyone else. I owe her my loyalty, even if she is losing her way.”
“I do not ask for you to act directly against her. I ask only that you help me to limit the spread of destruction she can cause. If she is as powerful as she claims, she may yet win her victory. But many innocents will be spared on both sides.”
Gladwin thought for a moment. “You would need to move out this very night. Before dawn. The queen has already instructed me to begin travel preparations for our own forces in the coming days.”
It was Damicos’ turn to scratch at his beard in consternation. “That will not be easy, but I can rouse my men and have them ready before dawn.”
Gladwin looked Damicos in the eye. “I do not wish to see my people’s way of life disrupted. It seems inevitable now, but if by your leaving this city I can offer my people a buffer against the queen’s ambitions… I will do it.”
The two men made quiet arrangements. Gladwin would meet Damicos at the rear of his encampment two hours before dawn with the supplies, new arrows for the skirmishers, and a rough map of the area around the valley. He would also get word to Jamson and the men Damicos had left behind at the Valley of the Red God, and do what he could to protect them from the queen’s wrath.
“I can only buy you half a day or so,” Gladwin warned. “The queen will doubtless order me to move out at the double, and I cannot delay overmuch. You will need to march quickly, and hardly rest until you get to the coast. We will probably be at your back the whole time, and if the queen gives a direct order to attack… even if I refused it, others would take my place and obey her.”
“Understood. Just get me those supplies and do what you can to cover for our departure.”
Damicos spent a busy and uneasy night quietly breaking camp in such a way that it would not be visible from the city walls. The men were obliged to leave many tents pitched in the fields, and to assemble behind them.
Finally, with only half an hour until the sky would begin to lighten, he saw a series of dark shapes slowly lumbering toward the camp from the direction of the city.
“Finally he comes,” Damicos told his sergeants. “Be ready. We must load the supplies and be out of here in mere minutes.”
“As long as we have room to carry all of this greenstone,” Sergeant Hundos replied. “I’ll gladly sacrifice some of my rations for an extra gemstone or two. Just one would buy a fine meal for the entire company when we’re back in Dura.”
They waited in silence as the supply train neared the camp. Damicos’ senses were on full alert, and he had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. If this went off, he would have embarked on a difficult and dangerous race one step ahead of mayhem.
If it did not… he did not want to think of that.
Finally, as the first few creatures ambled up to the first row of tents, he realized what was causing the nausea in his stomach. Even if Gladwin had brought help, he could only have managed a few beasts of burden loaded with supplies. Any more would have attracted attention. But here was a line of at least ten pack animals, big ones with teeth and spikes. And now more were coming from the city.
Something was wrong.
“Good morning, Captain Damicos,” a clear voice called out in the darkness.
It was not Gladwin’s, but Leisha’s. Damicos froze.
“I see you and your men are ready and waiting for us. Well, let us not delay. I have all the supplies and necessary equipment here and am ready to join you on the march.”
There was a ringing in the captain’s ears. How could this be happening?
The sergeants gripped their spears and waited for a command.
The queen, sitting tall stride her sleek black cat, padded silently and sinuously up to the infantry captain among the tents. She was wearing a thick dark-gray cloak over a crimson tunic with bits of leather and bronze protecting her thighs and chest. A thin sword was strapped to the side of her cat. Behind her were several handmaids and other attendants, a circle of warriors, and beasts of burden loaded with supplies.
Behind that came more mounted warriors, and as the first light touched the horizon Damicos saw another full cohort of beastriders emerging from the city walls to join their queen. All were heavily armed and harnessed for war.
“Are you looking for my guardian?” Leisha asked, following Damicos’ gaze. “Poor Gladwin. I had him strangled last night by more loyal men, men that proved stronger and more willing than he.”
She watched the captain, carefully gauging his reaction.
“Do not worry about anything that lies behind us, Damicos. Think only of what lies ahead, of the victories that await. Think only of how you will fight in my honor, and of how we will rise as one to command the land that lies before our armies.”
Damicos said nothing. He bowed his head in shame, confusion, and dismay.
Leisha edged forward and reached out a long, slender white arm to lift his chin.
“Signal your men to move out, Captain. The time has come to march. And as long as there are no further twists of fate in our path, you and I will yet share a glorious rise to power. Remember, you are destined for this. And you cannot escape your destiny any more than I can.”
Damicos looked at his men. He looked at the queen.
He looked back at the city they were leaving. The sun lit the clouds above a gentle gray.
Mishtan preserve us.
He raised his arm and called out the order to march.
CHAPTER 39: ANOTHER SUN SETS
Pelekarr and his troops left Ashtown two days after the battle. There was little to be said between soldiers and settlers; most felt that the sooner they forgot each other, the better off both parties would be.
They went swiftly, following their back-trail to the fort, and pausing along the way to mark the grave of Harnwe. There were no remains, but Perian and a few others who’d worked alongside the girl carved her name into a mighty spruce tree at the point where the White River woman last saw her.
What guilt Perian felt she kept locked in her heart, and only looked back once with winter in her eyes.
At the fort they turned due east, and forged a new path straight to the coast, skirting the open country where they had ambushed the Silverpath hunting party. They saw no barbarians and no monsters troubled them, thanks to Perian’s skill.
It was at her urging that Pelekarr halted early each evening, while there was still light in the sky, so that she and the foragers she was training could explore the area and gather the herbs she needed for poultices. The wounded who had not died within hours after the battle began to recover despite the rough travel, aided by the shaman’s care.
Pelekarr thanked her for it, but there was a hardness to her now, a dimming of her fire that he knew came from the guilt a survivor felt. He knew it would someday pass, and that she must work it out alone, in her own way. No man alive had yet found a poultice for that kind of hurt.
There were others in the Tooth and Blade that brooded. A company did not go through the kind of action Pelekarr’s men had seen and come away without the mark of it on their souls. Halfway along their return journey, Pelekarr looked over and saw his bannerman, Makos Vipirion, glowering down at his saddle with eyes a thousand miles distant.
“Does the death of Arco trouble you?”
Makos looked up, chagrined. “It isn’t that, sir. But I do mourn his loss, as with all the rest.”
“How many troopmates have you seen come and go in the past months? Of the ones you began with in this company?”
Makos sighed. “All but Keltos and Somber.”
Pelekarr nodded thoughtfully, letting his horse plod on in a measured tread.
“May I ask, Captain—what is our standing, now? As a company.”
“With the governor, you mean? Or with the Ostorans?”
Makos shifted his grip on the reins uncomfortably. “That is becoming more clear day by day, I think. But I mean with th
e high king. With our people in Kerath.”
Pelekarr looked at the trooper gravely. Truth be told, he realized, he had all but stopped thinking in those terms.
“We still know nothing of the king’s mind,” the captain admitted. “And it may be another month or six before we learn. I would like to think, though, that if anything the king would be proud of what we are accomplishing here.”
Makos nodded. “Certainly. But there is Iscabos, who slew our general, and the others that returned to Kerath. When they come back to these shores—and they will, some day, no doubt—we will have to accept that we are still and always at the mercy of the king. No matter what we do here, no matter what we accomplish, he can throw us to the wolves with a single stroke.”
“The king, perhaps. But not Iscabos.”
“The word of one will be the same as the other, will it not?”
Pelekarr turned in his saddle to fix his bannerman with a firm gaze. “No, Makos. I will answer to the high king. I will not answer for one minute to the traitor Iscabos.”
“Yes, captain. But in the eyes of the military, of the governor, we might be seen as rebellious. And I fear that we would scarcely stand a lame rabbit’s chance before an eagle. They could quickly put all our pride to ruin by force of arms, despite the tactics we are learning and proving. Is it not so?”
“No, it is not. Not if this young smith Humexes can make good on his claims!”
Pelekarr kicked his horse into a trot and went on ahead, and Makos respectfully fell back. The conversation ended there, though neither man ceased thinking of it during the long trek back through the trees.
Late in the afternoon, eight days after leaving the lake, they emerged from the great forest into settled lands and felt once more beneath their feet a dusty roadway. They gave a ragged cheer and marched the quicker.
Eventide found them camped outside Bax Town. Tibion and the quartermasters purchased fresh provisions just as the market closed, and the Tooth and Blade feasted on fresh melons, new bread, and three whole roast pigs, washed down with brown ale.
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