Lin Lill squinted an eye at him. “You should not apologize.”
“I was being thoughtless.”
“You have a lot on your mind.”
“Your life is at risk. All the elves’ lives are. I don’t take that lightly.”
“Venick.” She sighed, clearly hating to delve into any topic that might be construed as emotional, yet unable to keep the sentiment from her voice. “No one,” she said, “thinks you take this war lightly.”
???
They fell into the rhythm of travel. This was as much a part of war as battle: the boredom, the monotony of an endless road. The younger soldiers complained, but the more seasoned fighters were glad for the tedium. They knew what would happen when it came to an end.
The Taro was a constant companion. Venick often caught his men gazing longingly at the steaming water, wondering if their plainsland allies were really so opposed to a quick dip. It was said that only warriors were sanctioned to touch the water, and so invoke divine blessings, but weren’t they all warriors?
The elves did not engage in these speculations. They had no interest in the river.
One afternoon, Venick fell back to the middle lines to help dislodge a wagon wheel that had become stuck in the mud. He’d no sooner returned to Eywen’s back when it happened again, another wagon wheel lodging in the divot between two rocks. By the time they’d hauled the second wheel free, Venick’s trousers were caked in grime, his forearms slick with wet earth. It was somehow even in his mouth.
He remounted Eywen, only to discover that the army had stopped their forward progress. A halt must have been called.
Venick pulled out of formation, riding quickly up the line. He found Lin Lill, Harmon, Erol, Branton, and Artis all gathered together at the army’s head.
“Time to part ways,” Lin Lill said. “Harmon will take half of our force to Kenath. The rest of us will follow you.”
Venick looked at Harmon. He waited for her to explain the customary highland parting of ways, to give their soldiers some grand speech, but she only looked as she had when they’d left Igor, uncertain and…guilty? Venick couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t an emotion he’d ever seen on her.
“We’ll meet you in Kenath,” Harmon said simply, then turned away, kicking her horse into a trot.
Their soldiers split evenly, with no distinction between country or race. Half rode north with Harmon. The others went east with Venick.
???
Night came. Venick sat on the dry side of an overturned crate that had been discarded by previous travelers, spinning a length of jerky between his fingers. He should eat. It was imperative that he keep up his energy. Whether or not he had an appetite was irrelevant.
He sighed and took a bite.
Erol appeared. He came to sit on the damp grass beside Venick, crossing his legs beneath him.
Venick studied the man in the light of a nearby fire. “Tell me,” he started, swallowing the mouthful of jerky. “We’ve been traveling for days. And you do things likethat.” Venick motioned to Erol’s chosen spot in the grass. “How do you keep your robes so white?”
Erol barked a surprised laugh. “I would like to hear your theories.”
Venick shrugged. “Magic?” He was joking, sort of, except that as soon as he spoke the words, a window in his mind seemed to open. But…no. What Venick was thinking was impossible. Human conjurors had been eradicated by the elves long ago. There were none left.
Yet…Erol had been friends with Ellina’s mother, Queen Rishiana. This meant that he’d lived in the elflands before the drawing of the border, which had occurred at least a century ago. When Venick once tried questioning the man about this timeline, Erol had waved him off, crafting some excuse that Venick had accepted because he’d been embarrassed—and rightly so. He’d all but called the man ancient. It was rude. Yet Erolwouldhave to be ancient to have lived so long ago.
Erol’s eyes twinkled. “I have a good stain remover, and more than one set of robes.”
“Oh,” Venick said.
“Oh,” Erol repeated.
“Well.” Venick felt somewhat foolish. “That seems obvious.”
“The truth always seems obvious after it is revealed.”
The scrap of jerky had gone sticky in Venick’s hands. He set it on his knees. “The men will be disappointed. I’ve heard them tossing around some wild theories.”
