Briscalar inclined his head toward her, appreciation softening his otherwise somber expression. “I prefer to call it a strategic investigation, my queen. Done with the utmost diligence and discretion.”
“I'd expect nothing less.”
I leaned forward. “What did you discover?”
“Troubling news about the borgons, Sire. The attack suffered by the farmer near the northeastern grove wasn’t an isolated event. Reports of similar incidents have sprung up across the stretches of land outside the city walls. Livestock torn apart, though never stolen.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“I believe once I’ve finished, you may have the beginning of an answer,” he said gravely.
Talvon watched the lord with considerable interest—and a touch of concern that went beyond regular friendship.
Was it like that, then? If so, I wished them both well.
“What about the towns closer to the walls?” Reyla asked. “How are the people there preparing? Have they placed guards, sent flights overhead…” She frowned. “Oh, that's right. You don't use dragons in the same way I did while growing up.”
To ride into battle, she meant.
Although, long ago, we’d…
I frowned, trying to grab hold of the thought, but it slipped from my mind before I could latch onto it and hold it up in the light.
“They're doing what they can,” Lord Briscalar said carefully. “Securing their homes and animals. Rotating guards at night,though there have been some attacks during daylight hours as well.”
“This can’t be true,” Talvon breathed, turning his widened eyes my way. “They only come at night. Never during the day. And the last attacks… They were so long ago, I don’t remember when. I was a child.”
“Except recently,” the lord said sadly. “Our people are terrified. Some have abandoned their homes and fled deeper into the forest. Others are discussing packing up and moving within the city walls for protection. They don't feel safe out there any longer.”
My people. Our people. How best to handle this?
“Why are they attacking now?” Reyla asked, deep in thought, her gaze focused on the table. Her attention snapped to the lord. “You said the daylight attacks are new.”
Talvon nodded, watching her. Judging her, perhaps. He'd soon discover what I already had. This woman had the cunning of ten Evergorne kings.
“Why are they suddenly attacking frequently?” Her brow furrowed. “They've lived in the area all this time, correct?”
“They have, my queen,” Briscalar said. “Other than a few random-appearing attacks on the wall, and many years ago, they've lived in isolation, ignoring those farming in the hills and the city, for that matter. We’ve maintained the walls, naturally. We can do nothing less. But honestly, it’s been so long since the borgons tried to breach them that even I barely remember.”
“Are the borgons beings with complex thought processes like us?” she asked.
I shook my head. “They're fierce creatures with wings and furry bodies. The size of a small shed. They have fangs and vicious claws as poor Lord Ferlaern discovered. I don't think they're capable of thoughts beyond those of a feral beast.”
A shiver rippled through her. “Then they’re not stealing livestock for their own farms. Is their prior food supply dwindling?”
“If anything, it's increasing,” Lord Briscalar said. “My relatives spoke of the vast herds in the fields beyond their homes. The hunting has been excellent, they say, and I’m grateful, since their flocks and domesticated animals are being taken.”
She frowned. “Then why are they attacking defended farms when there are herds available?”
“One of their elders had a wild suggestion.” The lord shifted on his chair. “At first I dismissed it, because it cannot be true.”
“Tell me,” Reyla said.
“The elder believes the borgons are attempting to reclaim something they believe belongs to them.”
I frowned. “Territory? They’ve crawled out of whatever cave system or dense thicket they’ve been hiding in to collect…what?”
“No one truly knows. It's not like these creatures can speak and tell us.” The lord’s voice dropped, his tone coming out reverent. “The village elder also said the borgons want their history back. Their purpose.”
