The soldiers stood silently. Some nodded angrily in agreement with Gareth while some looked away, shifting their weight.
For several long moments, the screeches of clanking armor was the only sound that could be heard above the waves.
“Does he deserve to live?” Gareth finally said, breaking the silence.
Ian heard mumbling cries move down the line of soldiers, but none of them dared speak up directly. Most of them turned their gaze to Zimri, the leader they still trusted.
Ian understood the fear and pressure his men were operating under. He did not blame them for not pleading for his life, but their silence still cut him to the core.
Zimri held his head up proudly. “He is a traitor.”
At that, the mumbles of the Iseldan soldiers grew louder, turning into an awkward cheer.
Gareth looked down the sword, catching Ian’s eye. “We can accomplish great things when we work together,” he said, his voice low for Ian alone. He lifted his sword, stepping away from Ian and speaking loudly to the entire line of soldiers. “He is no longer a threat to Iseldis. I am not here for needless bloodshed.”
The soldiers cheered louder at that, as if Gareth’s mercy had deepened their trust in him.
Ian felt a begrudging admiration for Gareth’s manipulation. Once again, they had underestimated the underhanded but brilliant tactics of the Chendas king.
“I will let him live,” Gareth continued, “so that he may see Iseldis flourish outside the confines of fear!”
The cheers continued to grow.
Gareth reached out a hand to Ian, as though offering to help him stand.
Ian ignored the proffered hand, pressing his tired and bruised muscles against the soft sand to stand on his own.
Blanketed by the cheering soldiers, Gareth dropped his voice again to speak to Ian alone. “We have both achieved a victory today. You have successfully saved some worthless lives—only towatch them die by the hand of hunger or hatred in the next few days. And I have the respect and loyalty of the greatest warriors in the five kingdoms.”
Gareth grinned, raising his fist above his head in celebration as he cheered with his new army. He stepped forward, moving away from the ocean and back up the bluff toward his horse.
Ian turned to Robin. The beast-man threw her forcefully down against the sand, her body landing with a sickening thud.
Ian ran toward her as the beast-man stalked after Gareth.
“Pack your camp and return with me to your homes!” Gareth called out. “Or, remain here with your prince.” He sent a final grin to Ian before he turned his horse away from the water, leading his mounted guard toward the road.
The soldiers, remaining in their single-file rank, followed Zimri up the bluff after Gareth.
Ian dropped to his knees beside Robin.
Her eyes were open, but her face was twisted into a painful grimace. “I’m fine,” she said.
Ian reached down, feeling her shoulders and neck. Checking for any open wounds or broken bones.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, using her good arm to push herself into a sitting position.
Ian reached his arm around her back, supporting her.
“Ilida is going to be so angry,” she said, looking at the Majis.
“You cannot possibly plan to bring these people all the way back to Lockwood,” Ian said. “Most of them will not survive the journey.”
“No,” Robin said. “We will set up a camp north of here and send for supplies from Lockwood.”
“What supplies?” Ian asked, knowing as well as Robin did that there were precious few supplies at Lockwood.
“Everything,” Robin replied. She pushed herself to a standing position and walked toward the group of Majis.
