“That’s terrible,” Adriel muttered. “Small wonder she’s angry.”
Jiran puffed on his pipe as they walked. “Well, not the only reason. You see, I pulled another child from the ashes that day. Heric. They both had lost their families, but they soon saw a family in each other. They were inseparable after that. I would help them as often as I could when I passed through until I did my time in the Army and moved to Ilross. There, I created the Vilant and trained recruits, including Shara and Heric, who both quickly rose through the ranks to be leaders. Those two were great together, Shara with her passion and drive, and Heric with his cool head and wits.”
Adriel blinked. “Wait, so her and Heric—”
“No,” he gave a wan smile. “Their love for each other was like a sibling’s love. Have you ever known someone like that, my dear?”
Adriel frowned. Just thinking about it tore open old, poorly stitched wounds. And the anger, the vengeance that she’d long suppressed. “No. I can’t say that I have.”
Jiran replied with a frown of his own. “It is a cruel thing. A piece of you is gone that can never be filled. Perhaps it’s best you’ve never known that kind of love.”
Adriel combed her hair behind an ear, eager to change subjects. “I hope she’s alright.”
Jiran chewed on his pipe in thought. “Even the strongest of us have a breaking point. But she’s a fighter, the most tenacious woman I’ve ever met. It’s the Acedens you should be worrying about.”
Cain looked over his shoulder as the sun slipped behind Seraphel’s mountain to swathe him in shadow. The Alliance carefully trekked down the mountainside to form a steady stream from sky to land. He ran his fingers through his hair as he gazed upon the mountain a final time.
Mithaniel’s gyrfalcon appeared like a flash from the gray clouds, soaring over the heads of the men.
Cain turned to Kaelin. “Keep the men moving, have them form into three columns when we reach the trees.”
“Yes, captain.” Kaelin gave a salute and made for the front of the formations.
A dull pain worked its way through Cain’s chest as he walked, but it was barely noticeable even a day after the battle. He approached a group of Kaanosi soldiers with Mithaniel in the middle. Chains dangled from his ankles and wrists as he stumbled along. Sylva bobbed atop his shoulder, ripping apart a still-twitching rodent.
Mithaniel smirked at the sight of him. “You wound me, Warrior.” He jingled the cuffs bound about his wrists.
“As you wounded my soldier in the cave?”
He made a face and sucked in the cool air. “You twist the knife deeper. I saved your life, remember?”
Cain walked alongside his soldiers, two tugging on the Iscara’s chains, two more prodding him along with the butts of their spears. “And I let you keep your head.”
Mithaniel frowned at Sylva as she crunched down on the rat, splattering blood down his breastplate. “My life is in your hands then, it would seem. Why keep it?”
Cain peered over the rippling heads of his meager army to the valley beyond. “Because you may yet be of use.”
“I don’t believe you!” Adriel cried. Her laugh echoed through the trees.
“It’s true!” Jiran replied. “I saw it with my own two eyes!” She perked a brow at him as they led the Vilant through the forest. “I did! I cut the arzec’s head clean off and it still came at me. Still tried to eat me, I swear! Just stood there and pawed at me like—” he swiped at Adriel and gave his best impression of an arzec’s growl, sounding more like an angry tiny dog than a flesh-eating monster.
Adriel giggled and swatted away the horrible excuse for an arzec. The Vilant shook their heads and hid their smiles at the sight of their leaders and continued their march.
Shara scowled at the two as she hobbled along on her borrowed spear.
“Commander Morell!”
Adriel’s laughs faded as she watched two women in green and earthen rags running toward them. The two sentries stopped before them, panting.
One of the women gathered her breath after a moment. “There’s a farm house up north, about two miles. There’s two farmers out there tending the fields.”
Jiran rested a hand on each of the Vilant’s shoulders. “Thank you. Find your replacements and rest now.” The sentries wearily bobbed their heads and entered the trickle of passing Vilant.
Shara approached Jiran and Adriel. “Well, what do you think?”
“It’s possible some of the more remote farms and villages haven’t yet seen this new war, but I’m not going to take any chances.”
“Do you think it has something to do with the Acedens?”
Jiran clicked his teeth on his pipe. “It’s possible. If not, we best warn the poor farmers of the dangers of being out here alone. Do you feel like making a detour?”
Shara nodded, and Jiran waved a group of Vilant over. Another command, and their procession came to a halt. Jiran beckoned for them and Adriel, Shara, and a dozen Vilant followed him through the trees until they reached a large clearing. They spread out and hid beneath the thick evergreens at the edge of the dell. Adriel peered out from behind a tree trunk, bow ready in hand.
She spotted a small house across the field. Its humble log walls and thatched roof seemed warm and inviting enough. Indeed, the place looked incredibly normal. A man walked along a small, adjacent field, tossing seeds into the worked earth.
The grass rustled beside Adriel and she turned to see Jiran.
Adriel watched the farmer for a time. He continued sowing his field, hiding his face from the winter sun with a wide-brimmed hat. “He could just be a farmer. It’s possible he doesn’t know about the Acedens, right?”
“You of all people should know things are never that easy. The scouts said there were two of them, remember? Let’s go.” Jiran gave a brisk whistle and stood. At this, several Vilant burst from the surrounding trees.
He and Adriel led the Vilant toward the house. The farmer looked up from his work to see a row of bows pointing at him. He scowled at the bristling arrows and dropped his satchel of seeds to make for the house.
Several Vilant shot up from the grass with longbows trained on him. He stumbled back and nearly ran into Jiran.
“Decided you weren’t cut out to be a farmer?” Jiran began with a puff from his pipe. “I can’t blame you. I tried my hand at farming once after I retired from the Army, like my father and his father. I was awful.”
Jiran knelt and scooped a few seeds from the dirt. He rubbed them between his fingers before letting them fall. “But at least I knew not to plant this type of wheat in the middle of winter.” The farmer turned back to him with another scowl.
“Commander!” Two Vilant approached from the other side of the glade, towing a struggling man between them. “We found this one trying to escape.” They tossed him at Jiran’s feet and the man scrambled over to the other farmer’s side.
Jiran stepped forward and yanked the hats from their heads. Stern eyes and taught muscles, the first man was clearly a soldier despite the gray that winged his temples. The other was young, prime soldiering age. He was almost handsome, despite his now constant shaking.
“So, boy,” Jiran gripped him by his shoulder. “I will only ask you this once. Who are you?”
The second man looked to the surrounding Vilant, then to the other farmer who simply sneered. He gulped and said nothing.
Jiran frowned. “They must be paying you a lot, you brave, foolish boy. You’re not going to like what comes next.” He gave a nod and his Vilant prodded them toward the house at spear tip. The younger man tripped in his haste and half-crawled, half-stumbled toward the door.
A spear embedded itself in the door inches from his face. He gave a yelp as Shara appeared, hand stilling the wobbling polearm. Adriel stepped toward him, bow raised. The two women followed him in and slammed the door behind them.
Blood splattered the wall.
Shara swung her pitchfork into the younger man’s face again, sen
ding back another spray of blood as the flat of the blades nearly knocked him from his chair.
They’d at least gotten his name. Eldren. That was a start.
The chair’s legs dropped with a thud and Eldren shuddered as he gave a ragged exhale, the air rattling in his lungs. Ropes bound the two men back to back. The other man—Dalin—sagged in his bindings, mumbling incoherently as blood puddled onto his lap.
Shara shoved the pitchfork against Eldren’s crotch. “Would you like to see how creative I can get with this? Believe me when I say that I am… imaginative.” He looked up at her twisted smile, his face bloodied and bruised. He glanced over his shoulder at Dalin before returning Shara’s gaze with a whimper. He said nothing.
Shara smiled again. “I like you. It’s never fun when they give up easily. We’re going to play a game, friend. Here’s how it works. I ask you a question, and you answer. Get it wrong and I hurt you. Understand?” The man stared back at her. She swung her pitchfork across his face. “Understand?” Eldren nodded briskly as blood oozed from his mouth.
“Don’t tell them anything, boy,” Dalin managed to mumble. A quick thwack of a pitchfork against the back of his head cut him off.
“Now, who are you working for?” Eldren simply glared back. “Oh, fun. Adriel, my dear, fetch me that bag.”
Adriel looked out the window to the rocky hills beyond. What was she doing here? Had she really stooped so low that she’d be willing to hurt a man for the sake of information? What made it different than killing to her? She’d finally rediscovered her purpose of protecting the people. How far was she willing to go for what she believed was right?
She sighed and turned to grab a bag from a nearby table. She paused at the sight of a young girl’s dress folded neatly at the edge of the table, collecting a thin film of dust. She snatched up the dress and shook it at Dalin. “Whose was this?” she cried. “Did she live here before you took this place?” He looked up at the dress but said nothing. “Damn it, where is she?” The man gave a pained chuckle.
Shara pulled her aside and gestured to the bag. Adriel tossed it to her and she pulled out a hammer and stake. “You lost the game.” She drove the stake into Dalin’s foot. He howled, his scream reverberating through the cracks and seams of the walls.
“No, stop!” Eldren cried. “Don’t hurt him!”
“Too late for that.” Shara knelt before Dalin. “There’s only one way out of this. You play the game. Who are you working for?”
Dalin sucked in a lungful of air. “Do it, woman. Do it!”
“They must have paid this poor bastard a lifetime of gold to shut up.”
She took another stake and leveled it against Dalin’s other foot. “Wait, wait!” Eldren stammered from behind. “We’re spies, alright?”
“Don’t tell them anything!”
“Please,” Eldren continued as Shara moved into his view. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt, alright? Honest. I couldn’t join the military on account of my sickness. I just wanted to help out where I could; they told me I was doing my part.”
“Do I look like I give a shit about your sob story?”
“Dalin and some other fellows heard me talking about how I wanted to join the cavalry,” he spoke quickly, as if afraid she’d pound in the other stake into his or Dalin’s foot if he spoke too slow. “They said they could use me, that I’d help end the war. They said all I needed to do was to stay in this run-down old cabin and log Alliance troop and supply movements. I got a big bag of silvers and I’ve been here ever since.”
“You expect me to believe you had no idea you were supporting the Acedens?”
The man squirmed in his bindings. “Not at first, honest. I know I should have been suspicious, but I needed the money. I really thought I was helping.”
“If you wanted to help, then why didn’t you tell us sooner? You would have saved your friend’s foot at least.”
“Iscarius will have your head, boy!” Dalin spat.
“Not if I take it first.” Shara waved her stake for him to continue.
“I wanted them to like me.” Eldren glanced over his shoulder at Dalin who had begun cursing and mumbling incoherently. “No one’s ever cared about me like they have; they said I had to prove myself before I could become one of them. If they knew I’d squealed on them…” He groaned, blood dribbling down his chin.
“They? So, you admit there are more than just the two of you?” Shara gestured to the mats in the other room.
The man nodded. “There were six of us here; the others went off scouting east. They’ll be long gone by the time you find them.”
Shara closed her eyes and stood. “Is there anything more of use you can tell me? Think carefully.”
The spy squirmed in his chair again. “I don’t know… Wait, wait, I don’t know if it helps but the others have reported a lot of people on the road lately. It’s off east where they’re scouting. The caravans are going to the Nimithy Valley. To Charun, I’d wager.” Shara flicked her stake for him to continue. “Yes, all kinds of people just over the hills. Kids, old people, soldiers. A few of them are Acedens. That’s all I know, I swear.”
The Vilant smiled in satisfaction and Eldren leaned back with an exhale. “Adriel, please grab my wineskin.”
Adriel walked into the other room. A bloodcurdling scream followed her, and she rushed back to see Shara standing, hands bloodied, a stake pounded through Dalin’s other foot. Adriel stood there in the doorway, unsure of what to say.
“Why?” Eldren sputtered as Dalin continued howling behind him.
Adriel pursed her lips.
“Don’t give me that look,” Shara said as she gathered up the Aceden supplies.
“Did you have to do that?”
“Yes. We can’t know if Eldren was telling the truth; he could have made up that whole story about himself to get us to feel sorry for him. He played his part in the enslavement of our people. For that, he deserves his fate. And it’s a much kinder fate than his.” She nodded toward Dalin who now slumped in his bindings, blood creeping out beneath him.
Shara tossed her a rucksack and made for the door. “Their men will be by for them. If the wolves don’t get to them first.” Adriel looked at Eldren as he thrashed in his bindings, a dying man tied to his back. She turned from his terrified screams and followed the Vilant out of the house.
Ada Arillius guided his horse along the procession of beaten backs and haggard eyes, their chains rattling in the dusk.
The noise was the worst part. The jangling of fetters. The solemn shuffle of skinless feet. The screaming, the howling, the wailing. The young sobbed and the old consoled. It was all a noise, a din of drivel and madness.
Or perhaps the smell was the worst of it. The hundreds they herded through the valley stank of sweat and filth. Many wore rags long unwashed if they were lucky enough to wear anything at all. Others were naked pink save the dirt and blood. Mostly, they stank of fear. Ada wrinkled his nose.
He told himself those were the worst parts of this. But a man could only lie to himself so much.
Ada turned from the clouds of vultures that had taken to following them since Caethiwed. The filthy creatures were uncomfortably ominous.
He urged his courser through a group of Acedens who threw up hasty salutes. They smelled a good deal cleaner, but they were no quieter. They laughed and sang and drank. Others took to the prisoners, talking to them and jesting, but a few whipped and beat. A small group pounced on a young woman. It would be Malleus’ turn to execute this lot; that kind of behavior held up the march and distracted the men.
A nearby soldier cracked a whip into the crowds. Ada approached to see an elderly woman pulling an equally ancient man to his feet. The old man shook to his feet and the Aceden reared back to lash him again.
Ada tossed up a hand and the soldier paused, confused. The elderly man leaned down and gathered a rucksack from the ground before slinging it onto his back beside another sack.
Ada frowned down at t
he man. “You know that you can be executed for assisting your fellow prisoners.”
The man shuffled along, guided by the old woman’s arm. Sweat drenched his wrinkled brow. “What of it?”
His wife gaped at him. “Show some respect!”
“Respect?” the old man spat. “Respect for the men who plucked us from our farm like common weeds? No, they would work us to our deaths, what little use we are. I have lived too long. No man should outlive his grandchildren.” He faltered once more under the weight of the rucksacks. He peeled himself off the ground and continued forward, grunting with each step.
Ada sighed and extended a hand down to him. The man scowled but let him snatch the rucksack and hoist it into his saddle. “There need be no more death today,” Ada said as he reined his courser away.
The caravan continued along the jumble of ancient bricks. This gray ribbon carved through the hills of southern Erias, winding this way and that through the jagged hillocks until they came to a stop at the end of the barren oaks. High stone walls encompassed them here.
Men dotted the wall, passing barrows and bricks and buckets of mortar amongst each other. Great saws cut stones to bricks and wooden cranes hoisted these to the peak to form the battlements. The walls were still low in places, capped with crude wooden palisades instead of battlements.
The caravan stopped at the wall and the chains clinked to a standstill. Ada made for the wood and iron gate ahead.
He pulled alongside Malleus as the great red brute eyed the half-finished wall. “Damn slaves can’t do their jobs,” the general grumbled. “A few strong-backed recruits could do their work ten times over and still have time for killing. Open the bloody gate!”
At this, the gate braces dropped and a file of Acedens marched out to greet them, spears and shields shining. “Care to inform me why we’re here?” Ada asked. “We should have headed east for Nimithy Valley days ago.”
The Shadow of War Page 14
