A quarter mile from the city, they activated the speed talismans that Kreya had built into the bridles, and they galloped like wind through the pine forests, beneath waterfalls, and past orchards and farms.
They stayed in an inn under false names, and Stran swore they weren’t recognized, though the musicians played several of the old ballads about the Five Heroes of Vos, which Jentt didn’t think was a coincidence. At dawn, they continued on.
“Did you ever think you’d be the father of three?” Jentt asked midmorning.
“Never thought I’d want anything but the battlefield,” Stran said. “At least until I was on one, and then I knew I never wanted to see another. You ever see yourself as a father?”
“Once. But I missed that chance. Apparently I can cheat death but not time.” He and Kreya had never talked about whether or not they wanted kids. Before the war, it had felt like they had eternity to decide. After... well, he was dead. “Probably would have made a terrible dad.”
“Nah, you’d have been great. It’s not hard. All you gotta do is love them every second of the day and make sure they don’t burn themselves on the kitchen fire, fall off a cliff, fall out of a tree, have a tree fall on them, get trampled by farm equipment, or eat anything poisonous. Actually, parenthood is extraordinarily stressful. Babies come out so tiny and helpless. Horses plop out and are able to walk instantly, but not babies.”
“Regrets?” Jentt asked.
Guiding his horse around an outcrop of boulders, Stran said, “None. Except for not asking Amurra to marry me the second I met her. I wasted a year thinking she couldn’t possibly love me before finally she cornered me and told me the wedding would be in two weeks, unless I said no. I didn’t say no.”
Jentt laughed. “Wish I could’ve been there.”
Stran grinned. “Her parents insisted I wear silk. And bells. Tiny bells sewn into the fabric. Couldn’t even sneeze without setting them all off.”
“Now Ireallywish I could have been there.”
Even fueled by bones, it took them another day to reach the plains. They rode straight for the outpost at the wall, stabled their horses, and presented themselves to the head guard, who was barely more than a boy with an uneven mustache.
Stran introduced himself first, and the guard’s eyes bulged.
“I... I would need authorization from the grand master...”
Jentt stepped forward and presented the official paperwork that they’d obtained before they’d left—Kreya had been correct that Lorn would grant them permission without a fuss, even if he refused to meet with her directly. He wanted them to cooperate with whatever his agenda was, and that required them to believe Eklor’s claims.
Gawking at Jentt, the young guard lost his ability to speak.
“We need shovels,” Stran said, helping him out. “Can we borrow two?”
Sweat poured off the poor boy’s forehead. “Sh-sh-shovels?”
Stran patted his shoulder. “No worries. We’ll find them ourselves. Assign someone to feed and water our horses, will you?”
As he passed him, Jentt also patted his shoulder. “And sit down before you faint, hit your head, and split it open. Dying isn’t as fun as it sounds.”
They located a less overwhelmed guard, one who was too young to recognize who they were or comprehend what their presence meant, and obtained the shovels. Crossing the plain, they aimed for the tower, or what was left of it. They left the horses chowing down on oats—they deserved a rest after the journey here—and they took several of the guards with them.
Witnesses or backup, depending on which it would turn out they needed.
A mile from the wall, on the way to the tower, Jentt saw a scorched tree. Around it, the grasses were shriveled and blackened. “Definitely a fire here,” Stran noted.
“But what did it burn?”
Eklor could have set the fire to make his claims more plausible. It didn’t mean he’d actually burned anything.
One of the guards piped up. “Bones, sir! There are human remains here.”
The other guards bowed their heads and murmured a prayer that their souls had reached the great silence. Crossing to the guard, Jentt knelt beside a charred rib cage. The burned bones lay beside a rusty sword with a Vosian hilt. “One of ours,” Jentt said.
Stran huffed. “Proves nothing. Not until we findhissoldiers burned to a crisp.”
Very true. Standing, Jentt said, “Stay alert, everyone.”
The guards saluted. Clutching their weapons, they fanned out, tromping across burnt grass that crackled under their footsteps.
