Eres
“Something bothering you, Eres?”
I glance at the soldier beside me in silent question. Eldritch has a smile playing around the corners of his mouth, almost hidden by the neat, clipped beard he’s worn for longer than I can remember. Although it’s more gray now than the deep, dark brown it used to be. “Something wrong with your saddle, perhaps? You look a little uncomfortable.”
Ass.
I force myself to stay still. “Nothing at all.”
He nudges his horse a little closer, voice lowering so the men behind us don’t hear. “Don’t listen to Nythen.”
“Believe me when I say I spend a great deal of time attempting not to listen to Nythen.”
Behind us, the nasal tones continue, unbothered by our muttering as the man in question loudly addresses Valcor, riding silently beside him. “This is a fool’s errand.”
“Then why did you come?” I shoot the words over my shoulder. “If it is so foolish?”
Silence. And then— “You’re too soft, Blackwater. I only wished to discover how far the Lightbringers have infiltrated the Veilspire. Whatever we find will be far beyond any help you can offer.”
Pointedly, I gesture toward the creeping smoke, still barely visible above the trees in the dawn light as we curve through the forest toward it. “Then surely this site will be of interest. This is the closest to our boundary we’ve found.”
He humphs. But he can’t argue. The settlement we’re heading toward is barely three hours’ ride from Umbraxis. If the Lightbringers have pushed this far without us knowing, it’s not a good sign. Our sentries have been spread far too thin in recent months. In recent years, really.
Eldritch digs in his heels, pushing his horse faster as if he can sense the urgency.
If there is anyone left, perhaps I’ll be able to help. It would be good to feel as if I’d donesomethingworthwhile on this excursion, instead of arriving far too late to help anybody aside from offering final rites over bones and ash.
Eldritch’s words are quieter still, sheltered from Nythen’s derision. “There was nothing you could have done.”
Some of those bones were far too small. The lump that appears in my throat cuts off whatever response I might offer, and I shake my head, forcing it down before I respond. “Where does it all end? What’s the purpose in this senseless killing?”
At least the battlefield makes sense. Brutal it might be, savage and beyond comprehension in many ways, but logically, no side emerges from war unscathed. But this is past my understanding.“Why burn the villages after so long when they’ve never shown any signs of aggression?”
“Perhaps he is looking to conquer the Veilspire now.” Eldritch frowns. “It could offer a substantial tactical advantage in terms of land, even if that land is hostile. They wouldn’t be able to stay, though, not unless they plan to build and bed in.”
I wouldn’t have thought Lightbringer sensibilities to be adapted to the harsh cold of the Veilspire environment. They enjoy the sun, warmth, and light. This territory is far more comfortable to us than to them. They wouldn’t survive here for long.
I consider it. “If they did take the Veilspire, they could launch an attack directly into Umbraxis.”
He nods. “He’s looking to pin us down, push us into a corner. There’s nowhere we can go. Vaelion puts our backs against the wall, and we’re lost.”
There’s no viable settlement beyond Umbraxis. Our people are decimated. Our numbers dwindle more every year. We dwarf the vast desert lands of Solvandyr in every way, have made no attempt to encroach on their land except for in defense, yet they will not leave us be. My words are grim. “He wants to exterminate us. And given how they respond to the cold, I’d wager he plans to push through as quickly as possible. Get it done before the frosts annihilate their pretty little hands and they can’t use their luminth.”
A full-scale attack. There hasn’t been one in living memory.
“We won’t survive it.” The raw, bleak words behind make both Eldritch and I turn. Nythen and Valcor stare back at us, their expressions telling us they’ve been listening. Valcor shakes his head. “Perhaps it’s better this way. A last stand, instead of waiting for a slow death.”
Nythen’s mouth opens. And then, blessedly, for once, he closes it again.
The sound of horses moving quickly has us all straightening. The shadow scouts ride into view, both looking to Nythen. He waves a hand.
“The same as the rest, sir.” The first scout settles his anxious horse when it paws at the ground. “Wiped out, the structures burned. No sign of any surveillance.”
Fuck.Fuck.
“No survivors?” My voice is hoarse.
When the two exchange uncertain glances, my knuckles tighten on the reins. “Say it.”
