He only dared to open his eyes after several minutes had passed. “We must respect the dead,” he whispered.

  At dawn, he started the long trek back to the Synod. He would need a new urn to capture the hostile souls which Lord Goran had unleashed on the forest.

  Chapter 5

  Micol

  The late morning sun beat down on Micol as he made his way to the mess tent, tankard in one hand and a bowl of stew in the other. The other men he came across wrinkled their noses, turning away to protect themselves from his stench.

  It had been some time since Micol had noticed it himself. He gauged the smell primarily from how the others responded to him. Not that it mattered much; between the late-night watches and latrine duty, he and Asoka hadn’t had many opportunities to socialize with the rest of the company recently.

  Asoka and the manservant whose contract he’d won – Barke – were the only ones in the mess tent when Micol arrived. They were sitting at the middle of a long cedar table, arguing about something he could only guess at. Asoka was wearing the ridiculous red-and-black feathered hat he’d won a week before; Micol hadn’t seen him without it since that night, even when they were in the midst of cleaning latrines.

  “Micol!” Asoka said, waving his friend over. “Settle something for us. Barke has been telling me about all the games he’s seen Lord Farai play. There’s one where players each have a set of dice and they take turns guessing how many of each number are on the table… what did you call it, Barke?”

  “Mendaal,” the other man said. He was around the same age as Micol and Asoka, although his eyes betrayed a world-weariness belonging to someone much older.

  “Right, mendaal,” Asoka continued. “Anyway, eventually you reach the point where you have to bluff about how many you have. I say that makes it a game of chance. Barke is saying it’s a game of skill. He said the Artesian who showed it to Lord Farai never lost, not even once. I think that just means she must have been cheating. Right?”

  Micol took his seat, his tankard spilling over on the table. “No offense, Asoka, but I don’t much care.”

  “Cheer up, friend. We’re off duty. Time to relax.”

  “It’s not even noon,” Micol said. “And I’m exhausted. All I want to do is get some sleep so I won’t be completely useless when it comes time to stand watch.”

  Asoka took a heavy gulp from his own tankard. “You need to embrace our new circumstances. No one knows how long we’ll be doing this. We have to learn to enjoy it or we’ll get the life crushed out of us. Am I right, Barke?”

  Barke sighed. “Yes, you’re absolutely right, sir.” He leaned over to Micol and half-whispered, “Apparently one of my new employer’s terms is that I must agree with him whenever he asks me if he’s correct.”

  “Ah, so he wants you to lie to him. I’d imagine that makes for rather boring conversations.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right, sir,” Barke said with a grin.

  Asoka cleared his throat. “Are you two ganging up on me? New rule: no agreeing with Micol when he’s mocking me.”

  “Mocking you? I would never.” Micol affected his most servile tone – a whistly, nasal sound. “Master commands and us lowly servants must obey. Does master want his seat washed? Does master want to play dice games? Then let us wash his seat and play dice games. Does master want us to agree with everything he says so he grows lazy and stupid? Then by all means, we will agree with everything he says.”

  “Now you’re definitely mocking…” Asoka trailed off at the sight of Lieutenant Abena. The older man wore a solemn expression, but it was an expression they had seen often.

  “Sir,” they said, nodding at the lieutenant once he came to a stop in front of them.

  “How’s the were-hour watch treating you, boys?” Lieutenant Abena asked.

  “Well enough, sir,” Micol answered.

  “Very good. I wanted to let you know… Lord Farai sent a messenger to our camp this morning. It seems he’s missing his manservant and his favorite horse.” Lieutenant Abena’s eyes landed on Asoka. “Asked me to have you whipped for cheating him.”

  Indignation colored Asoka’s cheeks. “I didn’t cheat him, sir! Like I told you, it was a fair…”

  The lieutenant held up a hand to get cut him off. “I believe you, son. My message back to him was this: if he can produce witnesses to back up his claim, I will consider honoring his request. Until then, the horse and the manservant will remain under your care.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes searching the mess tent. “Lord Farai will no doubt find witnesses. However, the only witness I care about is sitting in front of us.” He addressed Barke. “I was told by this soldier that he won your contract in a fair game of cards. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir,” Barke said. “Near as I could tell.”

  “And was Lord Farai under any kind of influence which would have made the wager an unfair one?”

  “He was drunk, sir. But no more drunk than Master Asoka.”

  Lieutenant Abena nodded along with the answer. “Many’s a man slipped into his drink and awoke the next day regretting what he lost in partaking. Thank you.” He glanced between the two boys. “Now, officially, we are here at Lord Farai’s leisure. The land where we camp belongs to him, the food we eat comes from his farms. Everything from the edge of Lelet to the tree line of the forest is his property.

  “When his messenger returns with witnesses – and whatever other evidence the lord can manufacture – my hands will be tied. To maintain the company’s relationship with him, you will be forced to return both horse and manservant. If he so desires, you will be whipped. If you and horse and manservant are still here, that is. If you were on, say, a temporary leave of absence to visit family in the capital, there would be little action to take. When you returned empty-handed, Lord Farai would be forced to search elsewhere for recompense.”

  “You think I should go to Vicrum and sell the horse and Barke’s contract?” Asoka asked.

  “Skora, no!” Lieutenant Abena exclaimed. “I would never recommend such a thing. All I’m saying is it would be most unfortunate for Lord Farai if that were to occur. There would be no way for him to reclaim his property; his only option would be to entreat the Tevuluns to repay him for the loss.” He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. “I’ll admit, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the way you two have taken to your recent assignment. The latrines have never been so clean. I think you both have earned a couple weeks of leave, effective immediately.”

  He reached down to grab a piece of parchment tucked into his belt, offering it to Asoka. “Show these papers to any Tevulun soldiers you come across so you aren’t marked as deserters. Now, boys, I expect you back here in exactly two weeks. If you’re even an hour late, I’ll make you rue the day you were born.” He spun on a heel and left through two open tent flaps, whistling a tune as he did.

  Asoka and Micol agreed on a path that would take them south and slightly west to start, trekking through the forest and hills before meeting the Durumi River and finding a ferry to take them to Vicrum. It was an indirect route, but preferable to the other path; the one heading north through Lelet. The risk of being caught by Lord Farai’s guards was too great.

  Even with Barke’s help, it took the better part of the afternoon to pack enough supplies for the journey. By the time they reached the tree line at the edge of the company’s camp, the sun had almost set. Micol felt his mood falling with each step; he was coming up on a full day since the last time he’d slept, and exhaustion was taking its toll.

  “Well?” Asoka asked, breaking the silence.

  “Well, what?” Micol said.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ll do with the money from selling the horse and Barke’s contract?”

  Micol groaned. “I’m dead on my feet. I don’t really care what you do with the money.”

  “That’s a shame. I was going to share some of it to you.” Although Micol’s friend was a couple paces ahead on the brush trail, Micol could hear the smile in his voice. “I figure I can get ten silvers for the horse, and another seven at least for Barke’s contract.”

  “Seven?” Micol guffawed.

  “Hey! I have it on good authority that he makes a delicious meat pie.”

  “Whose authority? His?”

  Asoka turned back to glare at Micol. “Well, yes. But he seems trustworthy to me.” He turned back to the path. “At any rate, seventeen silvers is quite a bit, you know? There’s a girlie I used to know a few years back. We were sweet on each other. Made all the promises kids who think they’re in love make to each other. But then her dad made her marry some boring merchant.”

  “So you’re going to swoop in and offer her… what? A shack in Lelet to stay in while you serve out your time in the army?”

  Asoka stopped walking; in the near-darkness, Micol nearly ran into him. Asoka spoke in a whisper. “I won’t be returning to the army, my friend. I’m done cleaning latrines and whiling away my time watching pastures for men who would as soon kill me as see me rise above my station.

  “No, I’ve got it all figured out. Seventeen silvers ought to be enough to buy a couple fishing boats. My brother’s a fisherman, says Vicrum is the best place for it. Calm seas and fish that have grown nice and greedy off the refuse of the city.”

  Micol frowned. “Don’t you need permission from the king himself to fish in the bay?”

  “Yes, you do. That’s what makes it fun. We’d be pirates! Granted, the most boring kind of pirates, but pirates nonetheless.”

  “We?” Micol couldn’t help asking.

  “Right. I was hoping you’d be my first mate.”

  Micol chewed his bottom lip, considering the offer. “I don’t know. What if we got caught?”

  “What if we weren’t?” The light that had been in Asoka’s eyes slowly puttered out. “Just a thought. You can go back to the army if you want.”

  “I…” Micol trailed off, not sure what to say.

  Sometime later – about an hour in Micol’s estimation – they saw a trio of torches through densely packed trees. Micol and Asoka grabbed bows, readying arrows as they found spots behind broad trunks.

  “Who do you think it could be?” Asoka hissed. Over his shoulder, Micol could see Barke working to keep the horse calm.

  “Don’t know,” Micol answered. “Pretty sure I don’t wanna find out, though. Anyone travelling the forest at this time of night has either got something to hide, or they’re looking for someone.” Someone like us. If Lord Farai was particularly attached to his horse and manservant, Micol figured it made sense that he’d send guards to roam the woods.

  The pair held their breath as the flickering light grew closer. Blessedly, Barke was able to coax the horse into underbrush that obscured her from view. It wasn’t long until they heard voices, and not much longer than that until they heard what the voices were saying.

  “… don’t get it, is all I’m saying.” The voice sounded of grinding gravel. It reminded Micol of one of the Gray Masques; the very thought made him shiver. “We don’t need her tricks here. The town is defended by… what, a hundred children? Why don’t we just crush them and keep moving?”

  Another voice answered the first. “I think she’s hoping to wipe them all out in one go. Or maybe she’s trying to keep word from spreading. The longer it takes the Tevuluns to find out, the better for us.”

  A third voice – smooth as silk and as pointed as a razor – joined the conversation. “Only a fool questions an aspect. She orders us, and we obey.”

  Micol swallowed, his fear manifest as dryness in his throat. The men spoke like experienced soldiers – to his ears, at any rate –and they were getting closer. He let the tip of the arrow he’d knocked fall, pressing himself into a crevice in the trunk he was leaning against. To the side, he heard Asoka dart out of cover, seeking shelter in a patch of tall grass.

  He could hardly spare much concern for his friend, however. His thoughts were on the horse and Barke in the brush less than ten feet away. All it would take was a single neigh and they would be found out. Micol didn’t like their chances against the three men; he’d never seen real combat, and he doubted Asoka or Barke had either.

  And so he watched the red-and-black brindle horse with bated breath. Despite the men approaching them, the lids of her eyes were half-closed. Barke was whispering something into her ear, and each word pulled her closer to sleep. When she closed her eyes, she almost blended in with the dirt around her. Micol prayed the men wouldn’t look too closely at the brush where she and Barke were hiding.

  “Besides, we’ll see action soon enough,” the man with the silken voice said. “If all goes well, there’ll be fighting from Rederos on. If not, it’ll start sooner than that.”

  A man stepped into Micol’s view, nearly close enough to touch. “I know, I know,” the man said. He’d been the first one to speak; his frame was every bit as intimidating as Micol had imagined. “But I’ve never been much good at waiting. Give me something to kill now.”

  Micol’s blood ran cold. He closed his eyes, concentrating on taking deep breaths. Please don’t let them see us, he prayed to Loss. Please, let them pass by. It’s not supposed to end like this. Please.

  Another man stepped into view. Then a third. Their conversation continued, but Micol couldn’t focus on the words. He was too busy listening to the growing sounds of movement around them. The pounding boots and squelching mud hinted at a larger force than the three men who had already passed, although he could only guess at how much larger.

  At least a half dozen more came into view, most of them near Asoka’s hiding place. The three who’d led the way were nearly out of sight; Micol could barely see their torches through the thick trees. To his left, a glint of light caught his eyes. When he followed it to its source, he nearly collapsed.

  Silvery-blue armor covered the woman from head to toe, flowing around her like water. Every inch of skin was covered, leaving only a pair of thin slits for her eyes. She was close enough to Micol to touch. His entire body began to shake, demanding action.

  He couldn’t be still anymore. His every fiber screamed one word: escape. He had to get out, but there was nowhere to go. The beating of his heart raged thunderous in his ears until it felt like the sound alone would betray him. Cold sweat beaded on his fevered skin. The aspect’s head swung in his direction.

  Micol tried to bolt from the tree – away from the aspect – but she reacted faster than he would have thought possible. Her hand snapped out, stopping his momentum and taking the pair of them to the ground. He managed to twist in time to see her liberating a rusted dagger from its sheath.

  From out of sight, he heard the groan of a bowstring. The aspect’s dagger plunged toward his chest, but before it could strike the tip of an arrow spiked through one of the slits in her helm. Its force pushed her off him, and Micol took his chance. He was on his feet in an instant, running away from the group of soldiers.

  He met Asoka’s wide-eyed stare; the other boy still held his bow in a ready position. Time stood still for a solitary moment before Micol broke the contact.

  Bodies thudded; wood cracked from out of Micol’s view. “Got him!” he heard someone say. “He doesn’t look like an assassin to me.”

  Micol kept running. He heard the footsteps of several men behind him, but he didn’t dare stop to check their progress.

  “Get the other one!” someone else shouted.

  “Over there! He’s headed toward the undergrowth!”

  Micol fell into a row of dense bushes, forcing himself through. Branches and thorns tore at his skin and clothes, but he paid them little mind. The men chasing him reached the bushes a moment after he broke through the other side.

  His days on the streets of Vicrum came back to him, lessons born from a thousand beatings doled out by those older and larger. There was always someone faster, someone stronger. But Micol had had one advantage: he was willing to go further. A path ahead promised easy escape, but instead of heading for it he plunged deeper into the undergrowth.

  A thick root tripped Micol, sending him toppling head-over-heels down a stream bed. He hissed as a flare of pain shot up from his ankle; he inched toward the running water, but a sound came a moment later that stopped him cold.

  “Micol!” a distant voice cried. Asoka’s voice. “Help! Please help me!” The pitiful cry was like an icy knife plunged into his lungs.

  He didn’t make it out, Micol thought. I didn’t even stop to think about helping him escape. He rose to his knees, taking stock of the situation. He’d lost his bow when the aspect had taken him, which left the small hunting knife on his belt as his only weapon.

  “Help! Oh, aspects, please!”

  Micol knew what he was supposed to do. The stories soldiers shared were full of such scenarios; if he had been the hero in one of those stories, he would have drawn his knife and carved a path of blood back to his friend to save him. The men searching for him were getting close, and he knew he had to make his decision soon.

  A sound like an axe hitting a tree echoed through the forest, sending a morbid shiver down Micol’s spine. He summoned all of his courage, but it wasn’t enough. He turned back to the stream and jumped in, letting the water carry him away.

  Chapter 6

  Tarana

  Nearly two weeks after the Battle of Fovas Ford, the Tevulun army hadn’t managed to pin down War’s army. Both groups tracked north, following the Ofen River as they traded skirmishes. Every time Prelate Gratianos attempted to engage on a larger scale, the Ma’isans managed to escape them.

  Tarana sat alone at a wooden table in her tent. She picked at the remains of mashed something – she’d long since forgotten what it had started as – and allowed her mind to follow the currents of the thousands of fires spread throughout the camp.

  Some were surrounded by laughing soldiers. Some by sullen veterans, the ones who had been worn down through years of battles. She imagined no one remarked on her continued absence in the command tent; their taut postures and hunched shoulders betrayed other concerns.