Silas stepped up beside him, face flush with exertion. The two watched their men trickle around them to cross the mountaintop.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Isroc sputtered as he took a gulp from his wineskin.
Silas snorted at Moran as the man shoved past them. He turned his attention back to his feet and prodded at a tattered tent with a boot. Signs of an encampment were evident beneath the drifts of snow: piles of ash, siege palisades, and latrines. “I have a bad feeling about this. Do you think the Iscara… do you think Cain’s alright?”
Isroc beckoned his friend toward the stronghold’s mangled gate. Men gathered here, gaping at the terrible power that could have destroyed such mighty doors. With a command, Isroc’s men formed around the Warriors, and together, they entered Seraphel.
Silence. The wind howled through empty buildings and blasted ruins. “Spread out, search for survivors and anything of use!”
The two Warriors followed their men down the main road. The streets were empty save for strewn bits of rubble and broken buildings.
A soldier called to them from the field ahead. Isroc and Silas rushed toward a dark mound of something on the cliff’s edge. A familiar scent reached his nose. Burned bodies. He knelt beside the charred bones and bits of metal, smoke still gently curling. Isroc shared a look with Silas. This wasn’t good.
Moran knelt beside him and plunged a hand into the ashes. “The fires of death. It’s still somewhat warm. A pyre of this size would have taken many days to burn out, even with the snow.”
Isroc dipped his head. “We missed them. I left Cain here to face the Iscara alone, and now he’s gone. Or worse.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have come here,” Moran growled.
Silas jumped up and shot through the crowds. “Silas, where are you going?” Isroc called after him.
“Cain would have left something behind to show us where he’s going.”
“What makes you think that?” Isroc asked as he jogged up beside his friend.
“Because we’re Outriders. We never leave our mates behind.”
“Cain is gone, Silas…” Isroc attempted to explain.
“No!” Silas snapped, frantically searching the barren field. “No, he’s not.” He paused, then sank down onto a statue. “He wouldn’t have left me. Not for good.”
Moran stepped up beside Isroc. “We should make for Meres. There may still be a resistance there.”
“Cain is still out there,” Silas said as Isroc knelt beside him. “He’s headed for Kaanos.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“The Acedens have taken Inveira, now Erias. Why would they stop there? They want to conquer Tarsha; they’ll move on Kaanos if they haven’t already. They want Cain, they want Ceerocai, they’ll try to lure him into a trap or something. Everything is centering on Kaanos, I can feel it.” Silas stood, his steel gray eyes holding Isroc’s gaze. “I have to go home, Isroc.”
Isroc sighed. “You’re sure about this?” Silas nodded fiercely. He turned to Moran, then to the onlooking soldiers. He couldn’t keep reacting to the enemy, not while they razed the world down around them. It was time to make a choice.
It hurt his heart to turn his back on his country’s ashes, but the war was not finished. He nodded.
Moran threw up his hands. “Are you bloody serious? You expect us to go all the way to bloody Kaanos on a damned hunch?”
“It may be a hunch, but it’s the best we’ve got.”
Cain weaved through the camp, the cream and brown and red tents of the various Alliance soldiers dotted through the trees around him. A few black Iscara tents spotted the rows of white and gray. Men clustered here and there, gnawing on tack bread as they dug trenches and drew lots for guard duty. There would be no fire tonight, like all the nights before and all that were to come. Stealth was their only hope here in the depths of the enemy’s hold.
Winter now swept in with all its fury. Deep snow drifts piled about the feet of trees and hung like weights from their great green boughs. The air twinkled with vapors, beautiful, even though it practically sucked all the breath from his lungs.
Cain hugged his cloak close. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel his toes. Almost. It felt like he’d been freezing his feet off for the entire past year. He shrugged off thoughts of warm summers and golden grass—that only brought back feelings of home, and other more painful memories.
Fortunately, shovels weren’t the only thing they’d scavenged from the Iscara camps. The Knights had come prepared for a siege and had brought several months’ worth of rations. Cain’s men had feasted well that night, and now, with stomachs full, they marched hard with spirits high. Or, as high as their morale could get while being surrounded by enemies in the corpse of their home.
Two weeks had passed since they’d left Seraphel, and his men still cheered him as he passed. It was incredible how quickly their attitude towards him had changed. They may once have doubted and mistrusted him, but he’d saved them from the Knights of Iscara, the world’s most feared warriors. If he could save them from the Iscara, then he could save them from anything. He could save their homes from destruction, free their fellow countrymen from their chains, drive back the Aceden rebels. Cain could win this war, and all they had to do was follow him.
Cain wished he had that kind of simple faith.
He left behind the clapping and chanting and stepped through the trees to a small clearing.
Mithaniel sat chained to the base of a tree, gazing up at the gray sky. Kaelin knelt before him, whispering intently. Four Eriasan soldiers watched them at a distance, fingering their spears.
Kaelin noticed Cain and stood with a salute. “This is getting hairy, Cain. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the boys from ripping Mithaniel’s throat out.” He glanced over his shoulder to his guards. “Or stop my own men, for that matter. We’re going to have to do something about this. And soon.”
Cain gestured to the side. “Might we talk in private?”
Kaelin followed Cain to the edge of the clearing. “Their bellies are full,” the captain said, “but our soldiers are still scared. They’re well-trained and loyal—good men—but their country suffers and the Acedens kill and enslave. That makes any man nervous enough to piss down his boots. Not to mention angry. They think Mithaniel deserves a crueler fate than you’ve given him. It won’t be long before they take matters into their own hands.”
“I will take care of Mithaniel. But will these men do what needs to be done? Will they stay, to try and salvage what remains of their home, or will they follow my orders and end this war?”
Kaelin frowned. “As much as I want to stay behind and fight for my country, I believe you when you say the war is in Kaanos. I will follow you to the end, and I know they will too.”
“Good. I need your absolute trust, Kaelin. Yours, and everyone else’s. We have a difficult path ahead of us.”
Kaelin gave a sweeping Eriasan salute. “You have my trust, Warrior.” He turned and waved at the camp just visible through the trees. “You have theirs as well. Have you not heard them? They practically worship you now. Sure, some of them might not have liked you at first—with all those stories floating around about you and that damned sword—but you saved them. Now, those stories are about your endless heroic deeds. Funny how that works.”
Cain nodded. He’d seen the change himself. Those once fearful, hateful eyes were now adoring and proud. It had been a near instant change. Were people truly so fickle?
Kaelin nodded toward Mithaniel. “I don’t like this business, not one bit. He’s a good man, he doesn’t deserve chains.”
“He killed one of my soldiers. He conspired against us and plotted to take Ceerocai. The chains are the least of his worries.”
“I won’t say he hasn’t done those things, but men change. Look, I saw it for myself. Back in Morven, he helped us fight the Acedens; I watched him slaughter countless of his former comrades. He charged the enemy doz
ens of times just to save a single man. A true spy wouldn’t have done what I saw that man do. He saved lives because he cared about those men.”
“What are you saying then?”
“That maybe he was just on the wrong side.” Kaelin stepped closer. “A candle has its light, true, but it always casts shadows. We can’t scold the darkness for existing no more than we can snuff out the flame for the shadows it makes. They are two parts of the whole. We’re the bad guys, depending on who you ask. It’s all relative to where you’re standing.”
Cain blinked, taken aback by the man’s strangely poetic words. He’d done terrible things, but did that make him evil? “Someone once told me it wasn’t who we fight that matters, but why we fight.”
“A smart man.”
“He was.”
Cain stepped around Kaelin and knelt before the Iscara. “Are you with us, Mithaniel?” he asked after a time. A light snowfall whispered in the trees around them.
Mithaniel met his gaze. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“I asked Kaelin for his trust. Do I have yours as well?”
The Iscara glanced down at his fetters. “I suppose you do. You haven’t killed me yet, so that’s a good start.” He raised his bound hands. “Still, trust goes both ways, does it not?”
Cain smirked. “First, you’re going to give me some answers.”
Adriel scanned the darkness before her. The moonless night hung like a solid veil around her, hiding all but the closest tree. It’d be a perfect night for the Acedens to ambush. It reminded her all too much of another night long ago, when they’d first encountered the Acedens in a terrible raid that left hundreds of dead. Including Joshua. She’d never get to tell him how much she’d admired his loyalty.
She jumped toward the crunching of snow and called the challenge phrase. An orange glow smoldered in response, followed by a trail of smoke. Jiran stepped from the shadows with hands raised.
“A little jumpy, are we?” He gestured beside her. “Mind if I join you?”
Adriel sighed. “I’m on watch, just keep it down.”
“Or what? Their scouts are out there, probably watching us right now. Hundreds of people do not make for a quiet stroll through the woods.”
“Put your pipe out at least.”
Jiran gave a puff in response. And sat down on a rock. “Telling a man he can’t smoke is like telling a man he can’t have—”
Adriel cut him off with an exhale and moved to sit beside him. The two sat in silence for a time, one watching the surrounding forest, the other humming contentedly as he smoked.
“So, my dear,” Jiran said after a while. “We come upon Arkon tomorrow.” Adriel nodded absently. “Is that not what you want, to save the people? Your words.”
“I do, with all my heart. But I’ve seen so much suffering… it’s difficult to convince myself again that I can actually change anything.”
Jiran placed a hand on her shoulder. “There will never be an end to the evils of this world. But the moment you start questioning yourself is the moment this all will end for them.” He stabbed his pipe over his shoulder in the direction of their camp.
Adriel bowed her head. He was right. She couldn’t afford to doubt herself. So why did she?
“You are strong. Stronger than me.” Jiran continued, “Don’t give me that look, it’s true, girl. I see the pain in your eyes, yet you still manage to smile. You’ve suffered deep loss and still fight on. That is true strength, Adriel Ivanne.”
“I’m not the only one who’s lost someone. I’m not special.”
“No, you’re not. Not in that way, at least. Every one of us has gone through heartache and strife. We’re all here for the same reason. But I sense more than vengeance in you. There’s a tenderness there, a love for others.”
The Vilant puffed on his pipe, watching her. “You remind me of my daughter, Rael. She had blue eyes, just like you.” He smiled, gazing somewhere into the darkness. “She was feisty, always fighting with her big brother. She always lost, mind you, but that never stopped her.
“One day when I was home on leave, my son, Abston, cut a lock of her hair when she wasn’t looking. She cried for hours! That night, I’m awoken to Rael, pouring Abston’s hair onto my bed! She…” Jiran nearly choked with laughter. “She sheared off all of his hair while he was sleeping!”
The Vilant’s chuckles died. His pipe hung forgotten in his lips as he continued his far-off stare. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you’re here. We need someone like you around. A world as dark as this needs a little gift of light every now and then.”
Cain frowned at the bodies. The Acedens stared up at him with glazed eyes, arrows punched through their throats. With broadheads in their cloths and leathers, they looked more like archery butts than men.
“We found them not a league south,” Kaelin said. “They were slinking about the trees, but we managed to catch them unawares. We took their weapons and armor.”
“Why did you kill them?”
Kaelin gaped. “Why? They’re bloody scouts! They could have found our encampment, if they hadn’t already!”
“We could have questioned them.” He glanced back at the four bodies. “If there are scouts, then there will be a force nearby. We need to know what we face.”
“Yes, but…”
Cain turned from the bodies. “We march on. Triple the number of scouting parties and forward teams.” Kaelin saluted and gathered his troops, barking orders as he moved through the trees.
A group of Kaanosi worked through the dismantling camp toward Cain.
“Fine timing,” Cain greeted, “what were you able to find?”
The man with three silver stars embroidered on his jerkin stepped forward. “Much and more.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Our way is barred. There is a stronghold at the mouth of the Faeran, a full garrison of Acedens from the looks of it.”
Cain crossed his arms. That was odd. Odd indeed. “When I came through the Knife Pass a year ago there was nothing but trees and rocks. You’re telling me they built an entire fort there in that time?”
The scout leader shrugged. “Near enough, I suppose. It’s not complete; the walls are still low in places.”
“Can you put a number to their force?”
“I couldn’t get a proper count, not everyone looked to be soldiers. A lot of men and women were helping with the brickwork and brush clearing. If I had to give a rough number, then I’d say three thousand fighting men.”
Cain nodded. Slaves. That must be how they’d built the place so fast. He looked to his own meager army of three hundred ragged men.
“I thank you, soldiers,” Cain clenched a fist across his heart. The scouts returned his salute and slipped back into the trees.
“Those damned Acedens,” Kaelin grunted as he approached. “They pop up everywhere. I wouldn’t mind giving them a taste of my hammer.” He tapped his fingers on the war hammer at his belt.
“Their keep sits at the base of the Knife Pass. We don’t know their numbers and strengths, and they have walls and catapults, and we lack siege equipment besides. If we attack, then we’d only smash ourselves bloody against their walls. No, we can’t afford an attack.”
Kaelin groaned. “This is the perfect opportunity. I say we attack them unawares, pull them from their walls before they raise them higher. We can’t just leave those slaves.”
“No, I won’t risk it. The Amon Karash lies to the west, Heiven Sul to our east, the Faeran and the keep to the south. If we attack, then we’ll be unable to escape save north, and if the Acedens close that route to us, then we’ll be surrounded. It smells of a trap.”
Kaelin sniffed. “Right, well what do you propose then?”
“You won’t like it.”
“I haven’t liked any of your ideas so far.”
“You will lead the men to the Nimithy Valley, south to Charun and then to Kaanos.”
“What? All of them?”
“Aye, you will nee
d them all. It will be a dangerous journey.”
“What about you?”
Cain turned and looked over the Alliance, to the faces who had fought beside him through many battles. “You must keep them safe, Kaelin.”
“And where will you be going?” he pressed.
“I will meet you at Dun Ara. But I must take a different path.” His eyes drifted toward the nearby Mithaniel. “And I will need the prisoner.”
“A different path? But…” Kaelin tossed his hands up. “Bah, I see now why you asked me if I trusted you. Fine, take the poor bastard then. Just don’t nick his head off.”
“I will need him. He may have his uses.”
Kaelin saluted and relayed the orders to the army. Their formations turned east and began the long march to Kaanos. Men saluted Cain as they passed, whispering among themselves and crying their goodbyes. Cain stepped after Kaelin, the last of his army. “Keep them safe, Kaelin Vinata.”
The captain smiled. “Just don’t go and get yourself killed.”
Cain smiled back. “I don’t plan on it.” He hoped he’d made the right choice. There was no turning back now.
Adriel pressed against the cold wall of a building. A puddle grew at her feet, limned like a dark wine by the moonlight. Even in the blackness she could see the man’s yellow teeth curled in a rictus, blood oozing from his throat as he thrashed in her arms. Adriel tossed his body aside and led a company of shadows deeper into the alley.
She turned down another street and the Vilant broke off her trail, slipping into each building with weapons gleaming. After a few quiet moments, they rejoined her at the bend in Arkon’s main road.
The air was numbingly cold—not the cold that bit to the marrow, but a wet chill that lingered in every deep shadow. A hearth’s glow flickered from the occasional shuttered window.
The doors around her creaked open and shadows split the splashes of warm light. Silence. The Vilant left the homes, swords red. Adriel beckoned them onward and they scuttled down the road, boots scraping against the bricks.
The Shadow of War Page 16
