“You saw him?” Kefier asked.
“You—” Yn Garr snarled, pressing his thumb into Kefier’s chest. “Worry about that fort.”
“You expect me to blindly obey you, when you don’t give me any straight answers?”
“Yes,” Yn Garr hissed. “Are we done?”
“Fuck you, old man.”
“We’re done.” With sweep of his cloak, Yn Garr stomped out of the pavilion. Kefier spat out blood and did not follow him immediately. When he finally left, it was raining.
The days passed in an unending blur that began with Kefier crawling out of his tent before sunrise and joining his men for morning exercises. Physical exertion stopped him from thinking, which was good enough for him. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t want to think. Sthura, who remained long after Yn Garr and the King had ridden off to Ab knows where, was happy enough to do all the thinking for him.
“Oh, my word,” Caiso greeted him one wet and muddy morning. He had just ridden in from Tilarthan with a group of fresh recruits. “This is some miserable slop you’ve found yourself in. And to think, I once wanted to be the Boarshind Commander.”
Kefier stopped to grab his shirt, steam rising from his skin. “Maybe we should trade places. I’ve been here so long half of your men think I’m this singular’s captain. Nice beard, by the way.”
“It was either deal with the itchy thing or freeze my face off,” Caiso snorted. “I didn’t know there would be more rain than snow out here. Tilarthan looks like Shi-uin right now.” He rubbed the sleek growth over his cheeks. “Where am I supposed to go from here?”
“You need to talk with Sthura about that.” Kefier took hold of Caiso’s horse, rubbing the creature’s face.
Caiso frowned at him. “You’re not going to come with me?”
“No, thank you.”
“You’re an awful man.”
“So you’ve told me more than once.” Kefier put his shirt back on and led the horse away as Caiso clambered from the saddle. “How’s the rest of them doing back there?”
“What, like I’m supposed to be paying attention to those bastards?”
“Caiso…”
“Aden’s stuck doing paperwork and Robaz is about two days’ behind me. There’s also a group of fresh recruits Ranias is sending your way—they’re supposed to leave later tonight, if all goes well. You wanted to take them on patrol with you. All stuff you ought to know, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re not,” Kefier said.
Caiso peered at him. “Have you been sleeping?”
“More than I should, actually.” Kefier scratched his head. “Now that you’re here, I feel like I want to go ahead, take a horse and scout out the route first and then meet up the recruits near the river crossing a few days from now.”
“As if anything I say can stop you,” Caiso said. “I’d feel a lot better if you heed my advice, though, and take a couple of bodyguards. This, what we’re doing here...it is not a game anymore.” He rubbed his beard with the back of his hand.
“You’re welcome to leave, if you want. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
“And miss out on all the fun? Fuck that. Besides, Sevlor would never let me live it down.” Caiso took his horse’s reins and patted Kefier’s back. “I won’t lie to you, Kef. This whole business has a lot of the men on the edge. I wouldn’t rely on them in a tight spot. You tell Yn Garr and the King. Mercenaries don’t fight losing battles—they’ll run if they see an army of mages riding down the hill, all flaming balls and shit. Then there’s the tension with the Hafed army—there were a couple of patrols down at the docks and it was all I could do to keep them from each other’s throats. Got into a fight myself, if you can’t tell.” He pointed at a bruise along his cheek.
“I’m sure the other guy looked worse.”
“Of course he did. Broken tooth, snot, tears running all over his face, it was delicious. For what it’s worth, though, we’ve got your back. Some of us, anyway. Me, mostly, but what can you do? Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Thank you, Caiso,” Kefier said, drawing him in for a quick hug.
Caiso’s face twitched into a smile. “You know I do it for the money, boss. You take care, now.”
His words echoed in the back of Kefier’s mind as he made his preparations to leave. A part of him had been aware, for a while, that Yn Garr’s campaign verged on preposterous. For now, the Boarshind soldiers were bright-eyed and light-footed, feeding off each other’s excitement for the impending win; they had been promised an easy battle, a half-abandoned fort manned by a handful of mages who would probably give up without a fuss. The Hafed king was allowing a fair distribution of whatever coin and valuables they could recover amongst those who chose to participate in the endeavour. Most of them found their large numbers comforting—no one, so far, had questioned why such an expected easy invasion would require so many soldiers. Questioning things was not a habit most who signed up for the Boarshind seemed to have acquired.
The Hafed’s trepidations were more understandable. Kefier knew that at least a couple, including Lady Isobel and a certain Lord Nealle, had pledged their support, but their armies had yet to show up. He did not blame them in the slightest; if they had seen the handiwork of Dageian mages the way Kefier had, they probably wouldn’t even have replied. Treason to the crown was vastly preferable to having your blood boiled alive, or whatever else thing Dageian mages claimed they could do.
Kefier finished making his rounds and left before midday. Before evening, he had crossed the length of the main valley and ridden off to the higher ground that comprised Gorenten ancestral grounds. He spent an evening in silence, alone with three horses and staring up at the stars, trying not to think about where Rosha was or what Yn Garr meant by, “She’s safe. That is all you need to know.” Anger built up inside him again, like a clenched fist.
He found his way up to the Gorenten valley by early afternoon the next day. Near the foot of the mountain that led to his house, he saw a hut and rows of tilled soil. Storri was standing in the middle with his back facing to him, a shovel on his shoulders.
“You’ve been keeping busy,” Kefier said, riding up behind him.
Storri grinned. “Work does a body good. Old man said we could plant some of those cabbage seeds you got this winter to get a good spring harvest. Might as well try it. Osshia’s working on building a dock by the shore, and we’ve been taking turns on these huts. We need more people if we want to get more done. We may not have enough to feed them, but...”
“I came here to talk to you about that.” Kefier dismounted and took a moment to tie the horses. Storri returned with a bucket of water. “Hafod is attacking Fort Oras up in Dageis. Do you know anything about this place?”
“Not really,” Storri said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m the wrong guy to ask, you know.”
“That’s not important. What matters is that it’s a Dageian fort, which means soldiers, and mages, and slaves. Down here, I’m willing to bet that half of them are Gorenten, if not all. The Hafed wouldn’t know what to do with them, and I doubt they’ll want to flee to Lon Basden to resume their lives—if they even make it that far. I need you and someone else to come with me to guide them back here.”
“Why me?” Storri asked. “I don’t know if I’m good enough to run with you. I mean, I’m just a fisherman’s son, and…”
“Have you been talking to Ailat?”
“In part,” Storri said, grimacing. “She’s told me who you are. One of Jaeth’s heirs...Ab’s heart, that’s not just a thing you forget to mention to people, you know? A prince’s blood is flowing through your veins.”
“Don’t know how much good that does me,” Kefier grumbled. “Especially given what Prince Jaeth did to our people.”
“There is that,” Storri grinned. “Still. You’re walking among pretty big people, it seems like. What am I going to say if they point at me and ask who the hell I’m supposed to be?”
“J
ust admit that you’re scared,” Ailat said, stepping out of the hut.
Kefier turned to her, trying to mask his surprise at seeing her there. “I thought you didn’t want to do this.”
“Who’re you to say what I can or can’t do?” She came up to Storri and threw a rag at him. “There’s mud on your face.”
Storri smiled, not looking the least bit chastised. “Glad to see you still care.”
“If he won’t go,” Ailat said, ignoring Storri, “then I will.” She looked nervously at the horses.
“It might be dangerous,” Kefier said.
“Weren’t you the one who reminded me about my responsibilities?” Ailat asked. “If there’s Gorenten in that fort, then I’ll do my part to help.”
“I don’t disagree,” Storri said. “There’s a lot of work around here that I’d hate to leave. But maybe there’s someone else better suited for this, Kefier. She’s…”
“What I said, Storri, goes for you, too.”
Storri gave Kefier a sheepish look. “I guess there’s no sense in arguing. I’ll go tell Ishir what we’re up to so he can tell the others.”
“Now suddenly you want to go?” Ailat asked.
Storri turned to her. “Well, I can’t let you do this alone.”
“You mean you don’t want me to be alone with him.”
“Not alone at all, not just with him. I…” Storri glanced at Kefier.
“Do both of you need to get anything from the house?” Kefier asked, giving them a thin-lipped smile.
Ailat tugged at her coat. “I’ve got everything I need here.”
“The horse—” Kefier started.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said, grabbing the reins from him. By the time Storri and Kefier had gotten started, Ailat was already well ahead of them, her plaited hair gleaming under the bright sun.
“I’m not going to ask,” Kefier said, riding abreast with Storri.
Storri rubbed his chin. “I wouldn’t know what to say if you did. A man gets lonely. She told me how things were before you left Agantuan. I hope this isn’t a problem for you.”
“Why would it be?”
“Well, for one thing, you’re married to her.”
Kefier took a deep breath. “Too many years have passed, since then.”
“Maybe. Are they enough to wipe away what was there, once?” Storri’s question sounded strained, and he looked like he instantly regretted it as soon as it came out.
“You tell me. You just recently lost your wife, didn’t you?”
“I…” Storri dropped his head. “You’re right. It’s only been months, and with Elian still lost, I shouldn’t…”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say, Storri.” Kefier gazed out at Ailat’s silhouette in the distance. He could barely recall the girl that he had once thought was worth almost killing his brother over. “I think...maybe, that we’re allowed to rebuild over ashes, are we not?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
He shook his head. “We’re only human. I think we’re allowed to be happy, maybe even hope. No matter what we did or what was done to us.”
A smirk tugged at the corners of Storri’s lips. “A thing that’s been on your mind for a while?” Kefier looked at him. “It’s the house,” Storri explained. “A man doesn’t just build a house like that for himself.”
“Wishful thinking,” Kefier replied. “I have a daughter. I can’t say when I will ever see her again, or if she will ever get to live out here. So much has happened that I don’t even recognize our life anymore. If you gave it all back...I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It is a thing we three share, I suppose.”
“No,” Kefier said. “It’s different. I can’t claim to know your sorrow, let alone Ailat’s.” She’s safe. That’s all you need to know.
Storri shook his head. “We are bereft of a love we long for. It’s close enough.”
“So take what you can,” Kefier said. “Live while you breathe. I won’t get in your way.”
Chapter Eight
The evening of the second day after they left the Gorenten valley, Kefier saw fire burning in the distance from across the river. He had not intended to take the river crossing at night—although it was shallow, he preferred seeing where his horse was walking—but the fire spurred him into action. He motioned for Storri to stay on the bank before pushing his horse into a gallop.
Kefier crossed the river in a few heartbeats, the sound of the rushing water drowning everything else around him. He came up to the campfire and to three unsuspecting young men clustered around it. They were wearing Boarshind uniforms. At the sight of him, the men scrambled to their feet. One belatedly pulled out his sword.
“The fire, damn you,” Kefier snarled, kicking the sword out of his hand. “There’s Dageian scouts out here! You don’t make a signal clear enough for everyone to see when you’re out in the open like this!”
They stared at him dumbly for a moment. One eventually came up to the fire and emptied a bucket of water on it.
Kefier clambered from his horse to take a look at them. “You’re the new recruits Captain Caiso sent after me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” the young man who had put out the fire said.
“What’re your names?”
“I’m Ior, that’s Jarge and Hannock…” the young man said, pointing at each of his friends in turn. “And Abel’s down in his tent there. Abel! The Commander’s here!”
Kefier saw someone step out of one of the tents and begin walking towards him. Even under just the moonlight, he recognized Abel maic Camden’s face. The young man stared back at him. There was no hint of surprise in his expression.
“What are you doing here?” Kefier asked.
“I was asking around,” Abel replied. “Learned who you were. Thought I’d come see for myself.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Abel’s face darkened. “And why not? We lost our home because of you. I’m thinking you don’t have the right to tell me anything.”
“I’ll let that one slip,” Kefier said, drawing up towards him. “If you know who I am, then you know it’s exactly my job to tell you to do things. That goes for all of you.” He glanced at the other men. “I’m going to fetch the people I left across the river. Clean up around here. It’s filthy.”
He heard grumbling as he left. He knew he wasn’t supposed to tolerate such things—at least, Sthura was convinced he shouldn’t—but he liked picking his battles, and he wasn’t sure what to make of Abel’s presence there. He went back to fetch Storri and Ailat, and then got to work showing the recruits how to properly set up a camp. They had left their food scattered everywhere, and at least one had pitched his tent right on an anthill.
It was a dismal night that gave way to a dismal morning. Kefier normally enjoyed teaching recruits how to break camp, but he found it difficult to concentrate when one of them insisted on standing in the corner and glaring at him while he talked. He considered sending Abel back, but he didn’t have it in him to create an argument out of the blue. It was the sort of thing he preferred having Caiso or even Eswenna do for him.
They rode north, following the riverbank and past land that Kefier knew. He had seen the fortress from the distance before, with its numerous guard towers and the single, black tower stretching up into the sky, but he had never actually seen the length and thickness of its walls. He knew about them, but seeing it on a map and then suddenly having it unfold on the horizon made his mind go blank. By all the gods, they want us to storm this thing.
Kefier pulled his horse to a stop. A light drizzle of rain had enveloped everything in a grey haze. He watched the wall snaking through the field and going all the way out to the sea. It was black, and looked like it was cut from granite. That it was Dageian-built meant parts of it would’ve been made using the agan.
“Fuck Yn Garr fifty ways,” Kefier muttered under his breath as Storri came up whi
stling beside him.
“You’re trying to invade that?” Storri sounded amused.
“I was told they’d have minimal guards,” Kefier said, not quite believing his own words.
Storri didn’t, either. He snorted, leaning against his saddle. “You know the Dageians are all about efficiency. I wouldn’t be surprised if the thing is soaked with spells from the bottom up.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Kefier breathed. He couldn’t see anyone on the battlements, although that it was possible they were simply too far away. Sweat dotted his brow. He was supposed to scout the whole perimeter and report the current conditions so that they could plan their next move. How was he supposed to do that in good faith, seeing what they would be up against?
The hill where they were standing on sloped down towards the edge of the sleek, black walls, forming a natural basin where a handful of archers from the battlements could pick them off like fish in a barrel. He doubted their own arrows would reach the Dageians. And then if the mages decided to rain fire or ice on them…
“What now?” Ailat asked.
Kefier tried to focus on the present. “If we’re able to storm this thing, I’ll have the slaves meet you in the woods on the hill near the coast,” he said, pointing.
“That’s supposing you get that done at all.”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Kefier replied. “If the assault fails, you pull back. Simple enough. I told you it would be dangerous.”
“I’m not worried about the danger,” Ailat said. She looked like she was, but he wasn’t about to argue right now. He turned his horse around and met up with the recruits at the foot of the hill.
“Jarge and Hannock, ride up around the east side. Note everything you see—guards, runes, anything out of the ordinary. Ior, you and Storri head out. Get as close to the gate as you can. Inspect, but try to keep out of sight. I doubt anyone would be walking out on the battlements under this rain, but you’ll never know. Abel and Ailat will ride with me.”
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