The Shadow of War

by Bryan Gifford

  “How have they been?” Adriel asked of them.

  Shara turned, Silas still grinning at her. “Not a one out of place. You were right, they didn’t need chains.”

  “Is it time?” Silas asked. “Are we going to finally talk to the bastards?”

  Adriel nodded and glided past them. Isroc and the other two followed her to a column of men, each walking along with a hefty rucksack or pulling carts of provisions. The Acedens—or former Acedens, Isroc figured—worked without complaint or without chains, guarded only by a few dozen Vilant.

  “Ask them whatever questions you will,” Adriel whispered to Isroc.

  “What? Why me? You’re the queen here.”

  “Yes, but perhaps they will listen to you. I imprisoned them for weeks, and they know I could do so again if I don’t like their answers. They’re more likely to tell me what I want to hear, not what I need to hear.”

  Isroc sighed, but he knew she was probably right. He was a soldier, and soldiers preferred dealing with their fellows over those who gave them orders.

  He urged his horse alongside the Acedens and rode there in silence for a time. “Why are you here?” he eventually asked of a random soldier.

  The man glanced up at him curiously as he walked, tugging a hand cart laden with supplies. No… it was a woman! With short black hair and a soldier’s gait, it was easy to mistake her for a man. For some reason Isroc had never considered that there would be Aceden women. “Because we realized we were on the wrong side,” the Aceden said. She spoke with the lilting accent of a Meresi, her dark eyes now fixed ahead.

  “You see then how we might not trust you, the traitor of traitors?”

  She grunted. “You’ve never made a mistake then, have you?”

  Far too many. “Why did you join the Acedens?”

  “Because it was the right thing to do at the time,” she said with a sigh. “We were told that we could help end the war, truly make a difference. Iscarius was preparing to assault Andred and kill Abaddon. He had everyone coming from all over wanting to help—that kind of thing hadn’t been attempted in four centuries. All we were told was to stay low and prepare, that he would summon us when the time was ready.”

  “Why the secrecy if you were just going to storm Andred?”

  Another Aceden spoke up from in front of Isroc. “Iscarius said that once we killed Abaddon that Tarsha would fall into chaos. Kings and lords would fight for power and regular people would turn on each other. He gave us provisions and weapons and armor for when the time came to rise up and keep the peace.”

  “Peace!” Isroc cried. He closed his eyes, swallowing his anger. He had to try and see this from the Aceden point of view. Perhaps they really believed they were fighting for the good of Tarsha. Perhaps Tarsha would have devoured itself after Abaddon’s fall. But didn’t the Acedens create the very chaos they sought to prevent? “Why the slavery then? Why so much pointless killing?”

  “That’s when most of us had enough,” the man replied. “We signed up to kill Abaddon and uphold the peace, not put our people in chains and kill those who thought different than us. We were lied to.”

  “All of you?” He gazed out over the five hundred or so Acedens that walked in columns behind them.

  “Yes,” the first Aceden replied, “I’m inclined to believe that a great many more are unhappy with Iscarius.”

  Perhaps Isroc could use that knowledge to their advantage. “So, the cerebreum, the gold, you all weren’t just bought?”

  “Bought?” the other Aceden scoffed. “Please! I’m a proud Eriasan, same as you. I would never turn on my countrymen for a few coins.”

  “Some of them did,” the woman noted over her shoulder.

  The man grunted. “Fine, fine. Not all of us joined for the same reasons.”

  Isroc chewed on their words for a moment. “So, you believed that you would be keeping the peace after the war with Abaddon ended?”

  The Meresi nodded. “It was only after all the killing, all the slavery, that we realized we were being used. Iscarius wants power, that’s all he’s ever wanted. He won’t stop until he has Tarsha under his boot.”

  The woman practically spat the words. Such anger couldn’t be easily faked. “What of Cain Taran then? How does he fit into Iscarius’ plans?”

  The two Acedens shrugged. “We were told to find and kill Cain Taran at any cost,” the Meresi replied, “that his death would help end the war.”

  More questions than answers. As always. “Tell me, how many Alliance soldiers have you killed?”

  The woman gazed up at him, eyes wide. Likely, she thought her number would mean her death. She sighed, then answered anyways. “Fourteen.”

  “You?” Isroc asked the Eriasan.

  “Eleven.”

  Isroc nodded. Killing arzecs and andreds was one thing, but ending a man’s life… well, it was hard to forget their screams. He moved to rein his horse away.

  Whether a last attempt to save her life or a genuine display, the Meresi dropped her hand cart and gave a salute. “Tell your queen that we want to fight for her. All of us do. We want to earn our forgiveness.”

  Isroc rode along the columns of Acedens, choosing soldiers at random. Most of the conversations went much like the first, but a few refused to speak to him. Eventually, he returned to the others who rode at a distance, watching the exchanges.

  “Well, what’d the traitors have to say for themselves?” Silas asked.

  “Most seem genuine.” He turned to Adriel and relayed what the soldiers had told him. “They really seemed to believe that they were doing the right thing. They feel lied to.”

  Silas snorted. “They’re the ones who betrayed us.”

  “Yes, well, I think everyone’s a traitor to someone now.”

  Adriel raised a hand, silencing Silas’ inevitable quip. “Did you ask them about Cain?”

  “Yes,” Isroc answered, “no one knows why Iscarius wants him, but they were told his death would end the war. I suspect every Aceden was told the same.”

  “So, nothing new there. The entire world now wants that wool-headed man dead.”

  “And you?” Isroc chuckled.

  Adriel pursed her lips but replaced it with a quick frown. “Oh, me more than anyone.”

  “Idiot boys aside, what do you want to do with the Acedens?” Shara asked.

  Isroc replied, “I asked them how many Alliance soldiers they killed.”

  Adriel seemed to read the suggestion on his face. “Ask every Aceden who wishes to join us. Three days of hard labor for each life they ended. They’ll dig our defenses, shovel our shit, carry our supplies.

  “And then find armor and weapons for them.” She held up another hand, stopping Silas’ reply. She really was getting quite good at that. “They’ll be divided and placed into different battalions. Shara, determine which battalions and which officers will be over them. If they really wish to show their change of heart, then assign them additional work details. We’ll keep a close eye on their integration; I won’t tolerate any discrimination from my Vilant.”

  Shara saluted and rode off, barking orders to her nearby officers. Silas trailed after her like an excited puppy. Kari, the leader of the Vilant scouts, approached on her horse and quickly whispered into Adriel’s ear. She then turned away and slipped through the Royal Guards, but not before throwing a quick smile at Isroc.

  Adriel reined her regal steed up beside Isroc. “Kaanos is three weeks ahead. We’ll be at Dun Ara soon enough.”

  “And what if it really is under Aceden control like Ada said?”

  Adriel gazed out over the heads of her people. “We rip them out, roots and all. Then we go to Angeled, find Markadesh, and end this madness.”

  “This is idiotic,” Mithaniel moaned for what had to have been the hundredth time.

  Cain grunted. “Yes, well, you should be used to my plans by now.”

  “And yet you never cease to amaze. You’ve got a real talent for that, you know. I still do
n’t understand; Dun Ara is that way. Let’s at least go scout the place out.”

  Cain continued up the hill, eyes forward. “No. That’s what Malecai wants.”

  “Then where are we going?” Cain turned to him, his dark eyes filled with that all too familiar sorrow. “Oh…” Mithaniel paused, then followed his friend out onto the hilltop.

  Andaurel lay below.

  The former trade town was now a heap of ash and debris, long since covered by grass and weeds. Colorful flowers painted the swaths of green and gray. Tall, blond grass swayed in the hot spring wind, rippling with the red of a dying sunset.

  New construction popped up here and there, their thatch roofs glowing softly in the dying light. Hundreds of Aceden tents filled the spaces between buildings. They were everywhere, lying like shadows in the weeds. They darkened roads and ruins and stretched into the surrounding fields, former farm fences ripped out to make room for latrines and ramparts. Acedens roamed the camp or worked the ditches, their shouts and conversations a dull hum in the hills.

  Cain stood there, unmoving, those sorrowful eyes gazing out over what remained of his childhood home.

  Mithaniel cleared his throat, feeling pity rise in his chest. How must it feel to lose parents, friends, a wife, a child? Mithaniel had lived a lonely life. He couldn’t even remember his mother, if he had one. “Are you sure this is wise?”

  Cain’s eyes stayed locked on Andaurel. “We don’t have a choice; we’re nearly out of supplies. This is the closest place I know of that will have any provisions.”

  “And how are we supposed to get any? I seem to recall both of us being wanted men.”

  Cain gestured to caravans of wagons moving in and out of the town. “Where there’s soldiers, there’s merchants. They’ll have supplies for us to buy.”

  “We still can’t go down there. They’ll have our heads the moment we show ourselves.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’ll only be down there long enough to get some answers about Markadesh. By force, if we have to.”

  Mithaniel buried his face in a palm. The man was a damned fool. “Having a death wish is fine and all but leave me out of it. I’d very much like to survive this ordeal, thank you.”

  “And you have a better plan?” Cain turned back to Andaurel, his eyes growing distant again.

  “Yes, one that doesn’t involve us losing our heads. We’ll disguise ourselves and join one of those caravans; there looks to be hundreds of camp followers down there, so we shouldn’t be out of place. We can probably stay for a few days while we get the information we need. You know as well as I do how loose soldiers’ lips are when they’re off duty and think no one is listening.”

  “That’s no safer than my plan.”

  “You’re right. Charging into a camp of a thousand Acedens should be much safer. Whatever was I thinking?”

  “Alright, alright, I get it. We’ll give your plan a try. One week.”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Fine. Reasoning and subtly always prevail over bludgeoning someone.”

  Cain grunted. “Then you’re not hitting them hard enough.”

  “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Mithaniel chuckled. “Let’s get a move on before they close those gates.” He procured a scarf from his bag and wrapped it around his hair, trying his best to tuck in every white strand.

  “I guess an Aceden could mistake you for a Meresi with that headwrap. At a distance. And after a few drinks.”

  “I have to improvise; you’ve at least got that hideous beard so maybe no one will recognize you.”

  Cain scratched at his chin. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

  “I dare say it’s an improvement.”

  Cain cocked his head in that way he did when he was trying to decipher an insult. “Fine, let’s go.”

  Mithaniel grabbed him by the shoulder. “You can’t take that in there,” he said with a gesture toward Ceerocai. He pointed toward the caravans again. Acedens stood at the entrance to the town, patting down every trader and inspecting their wares. “We won’t get in with weapons. We’ll have to hide them.”

  “We entered Brandor.”

  “And how did that turn out for us?”

  “Ceerocai is safest with me.”

  “I’m not denying that, but it’s much too obvious. The damn thing’s massive! Besides, if you are discovered and you draw it, what will happen to those thousand Acedens? Do you want to take that chance?”

  “Yes. Otherwise I’d be defenseless against a thousand Acedens.”

  “Is that risk not worth all those lives?”

  Cain contemplated this for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “I’ll have to bury it. We can’t risk anyone accidentally finding it.” He waved for Mithaniel to follow and led him back down the hill toward a patch of trees. He knelt and set to digging. Mithaniel waited, an absent hand stroking Sylva who had perched atop a low branch.

  A few minutes later, Cain placed Ceerocai among the dirt and rocks. With a hesitant hand, he brushed dirt over the sword, then capped it with stones.

  Mithaniel followed Cain’s lead and hid his sword and shield among the grass and rocks as well. “Come on, let’s get on with it.”

  Cain nodded, frowning down at the dirt and rocks that covered Ceerocai. Mithaniel clapped him on the shoulder and together, the two moved toward Andaurel.

  Silas breathed deep, a smile tugging at his lips. The fragrance of wildflowers and summer grass. The earthy scent of rich soil moistened by the morning dew. The smells of home.

  It had been far too long since he’d felt that familiar hot breeze brush against his skin. Despite his reluctance to travel to other countries, he’d come to appreciate their beauty. But nowhere in Tarsha was as exquisite as Kaanos.

  “Hello?” Isroc grumbled from beside him. Silas turned to his friend who simply gave his customary frown. “Did you catch anything I just said?”

  “Um, yes, something about…”

  “There’s a village ahead; the scouts say it’s clear of Acedens. We’re going to check it out.”

  Silas thought on this. “This close to the border, it’s probably Hearthill.”

  Isroc reined his horse to a stop. Silas followed likewise, and the two watched their people begin setting camp. “Anything we need to know about this Hearthill? If they’re this close to the border with Charun, there’s a good chance the Acedens have gotten to them already.”

  Silas shrugged. “Good folks live there, they wouldn’t have joined the Acedens by choice.”

  “We’ll see. Adriel’s gathering a party to scope the village.” Isroc led Silas down the length of the massive camp and approached Adriel and her Royal Guards.

  Kari soon appeared and saluted Adriel before giving her reports. Satisfied, Adriel waved for the group to follow. Isroc watched the scout leader ride ahead, her black braid bouncing against her back with each step of her horse.

  “I see that,” Silas chuckled.

  Isroc coughed and turned away. “I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what Kari looks like underneath that dress?”

  “No! Please. Um… don’t think I don’t know what’s going on between you and Shara.”

  Not one for subtlety, was he? “Poor attempt at changing the subject, but it’s a topic I very much enjoy so I’ll allow it.”

  “So, how did it happen? Did she feel sorry for you or something?”

  “Ha, please! I used to be quite the charmer years ago.”

  “Exactly… years ago.”

  Silas grunted and turned to watch Shara riding just ahead of them. “I like her, Isroc. She tries to play the hard ass, but deep down she cares. She’s funny and kind. And she’s a good fighter.”

  “I am happy for you, my friend. You deserve some happiness in these dark times.”

  Silas looked out over the fields of swaying grass. He didn’t like to think of his home under Aceden thumbs. The whole world was dying, but he’d al
ways thought of Kaanos as somehow separate from the rest of the world, untainted and free.

  “You deserve some happiness too, Isroc. One thing Shara has taught me is that we can’t allow ourselves to let the weight of this war bring us down.” Silas sighed. “I’ve been there, and I don’t want to feel that way again.” He’d nearly given up in those dark cells.

  “I don’t deserve anything.” Isroc’s voice grew harder still. “Everything and everyone I’ve ever cared about has been destroyed because of me. Mordicon, my wife, my daughter, my father, my friends, my country. The West Riders…” Isroc breathed, fighting for his next words. “I am death. Everyone around me eventually perishes. I’m saving her by having nothing to do with her.”

  Oh, great, this again. “You sound like Cain. Woe is me! No one knows my pain! Bullshit. Everyone in this whole bloody cesspit has suffered and lost. Grow a pair and go talk to the bloody woman because she’ll probably be the best damned thing that will ever happen to you.”

  Isroc stared out ahead of them, mouth working to find words.

  “Go talk to Kari, and when you see her smile, tell me whether or not you still feel hopeless.”

  Isroc nodded, suddenly sitting up straighter in his saddle. “You’re a good friend, Silas. Your brother would be proud.” He urged his mount forward, but the village appeared beyond just as he neared Kari.

  Silas chuckled. He’d get her next time.

  Hearthill was just like he remembered—tiny wattle and daub homes, picturesque and peaceful. Villagers dropped their tasks and gathered around the newcomers to gawk and whisper among themselves. Adriel looked imposing among the simple robes and rags of farmers with her gold crown and white regalia. She seemed so at ease atop her towering courser, her natural grace drawing eyes as much as her fancy clothes.

  Eventually, a graying woman parted the crowds and stopped before the Royal Guards with a bow.

  “Let her pass, High Guard Harin,” Adriel said.