Maybe she could try to endure for a while.
A Chase at Dawn
Losara re-entered Kainordas via the Nyul’ya river. A couple of leagues past the Mines he spotted a supply group – Greys working large carts, guarded by some Blacks and Graka circling overhead. Despite their swords and resolute bearing, and the size of the army they journeyed to, they looked vulnerable out here by themselves. This was still Kainordan soil.
As he watched them from the shade of a willow tree, there came a rustle from above. Looking up, he was surprised to see a Varenkai lying on a branch, spying on his soldiers. What tales will you tell your masters? he thought. Will you set them upon my supply route?
He stole up the tree trunk and out along the branch, coming to rest underneath the oblivious Varenkai. As he looked up into the man’s eyes, so unsuspecting of the danger, he felt like a lurking monster.
At least he could make it quick.
He came half into being, real only from the waist up, and froze the scout’s heart. The man gasped briefly, went stiff, and slowly toppled from the branch.
Just one , Losara thought. But there will be others, and plenty of them.
Another non-accomplishment for the day. At least the encounter with Eosene had made him realise that there was no easy way to be open and honest with his people. They were just going to have to trust him – or, at the very least, do as he commanded. Some secrets, it seemed, were meant to remain so.
He rejoined his army to discover that nothing had changed. Both his people and the enemy seemed more organised, perhaps. They were settling in, which irritated him. He did not want to get bogged down too long.
He pooled by two Graka sitting in their camp.
‘…attack soon?’ one was saying.
‘We can only hope. I don’t think his Greatness realises quite how much we black and stony fellows heat up in this infernal sunlight. I feel like I’m sitting in a blacksmith’s forge.’
‘Why do we wait? Why doesn’t he send that mander in to gnash them to pieces?’
Losara made a snap decision. If he was going to keep his secret to himself, at least he could make it known that his actions were not to be questioned. Quickly he formed, seated on a stone beside the Graka.
‘I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘you’re just going to have to accept that I have my reasons.’
The two Graka stared at him, open-mouthed.
‘And it seems,’ said Losara, ‘that we may have to remain here for some days, but rest assured I still intend to crush the enemy.’ He tried to give his words conviction. ‘So it would be better if you ceased your doubting, and instead endured this adversity with the stern stuff that we shadow folk are made of.’
The Graka scrabbled to their knees. Losara did not wait to hear their supplication, but dissipated and left. Hopefully the story would spread throughout the camp, a reminder to all that Losara was still focused on winning …and perhaps, just a little like Battu before him, that it was dangerous to question him out loud.
All of a sudden, a great wailing went up at the river. Some of the voices were abruptly silenced even as others rushed in to fill the gaps, thickening to an ululating chorus of terror. Losara froze for a second in the lee of a tent, fearful of what was happening, then changed course towards the sound. A couple of heartbeats later he arrived, and the sight that met his shadowy eyes left him appalled.
In the heat of the day, a great many Vorthargs had taken to the river to protect themselves from drying out. Prone bodies now bobbed in the water, while the living struggled between them to reach the shore. Bright spots in the water flared against them, making them thrash and die. It was hard to tell who was screaming in distress, and who in pain.
Losara expanded his senses and discovered a multitude of little spells perfectly disguised as sparkling motes, which seemed to be activating when they touched skin. He flowed beneath the surface of the water where he could see them more clearly, actual shining dots flowing past in large numbers – some concoction of the lightfists upriver, no doubt.
Clever , thought Losara, with more revulsion than admiration …and took physical form at the bottom of the river, his feet buried amongst stones to root him against the current. He threw up a shadow ward and, weaving his hands as if he was stretching dough, widened it all the way from one side of the river to the other. The little light spells began to catch in it, flickering and fading as they touched shadow. Losara made sure the ward was fastened securely, then left the water to reappear, dripping, on the bank.
‘What has happened, lord?’
Roma had arrived, his ponytail frayed from speeding through the camp.
‘It is all right,’ said Losara, the words like cotton in his mouth. He did not believe them, so how could he expect anyone else to?
Along a sizeable stretch of river, hundreds of the dead were drifting, swirling. Many had been Vorthargs, but there were others too. He saw an Arabodedas woman pawing at a still body, trying to drag it to shore, and reached out to help lift her free …but she gave a yowl as the water around her glowed with one of the last spells this side of his net. He dropped his hand, disquieted, as others scrambled up the bank in droves, and many sets of scared eyes turned to him.
It was far from all right.
Suddenly and strongly, he felt the need to do something. Perhaps he could not tell his troops why they were delayed, but he needed to show them that they weren’t simply targets, waiting to be picked off at any moment.
‘They sent spells at us in the water,’ he told Roma. ‘I have stopped them, but we’ll need mages stationed here at all times to maintain the net I’ve set up. For now the river is safe again – have that put about.’
‘I doubt anyone will be going back in soon, lord,’ said Roma gloomily.
‘They will have to, as we both know. It is so damned hot.’
‘It is that.’
Downstream, bodies were snagging on rocks and submerged branches, or washing up onto the shore. At a bend further on, they were collecting in a large and grisly pile.
‘Maybe they will be more easily encouraged to return once the dead are cleared away,’ observed Losara.
‘I will see to it, lord.’
Up the river he noticed the shadowmander stretching its head out over the water, peering in curiously – could it sense the hidden light magic riding along in the current? There must be a way , he thought determinedly, to make the creature work to our advantage. And, as he considered it, an idea began to form.
‘I leave this to you, Roma,’ he said. ‘There is something I must discuss with Tyrellan.’
And then , he thought, perhaps we’ll give the enemy a surprise of our own.
•
Bel realised he had worked the blade of grass between his teeth until it was thread-like, and spat out bitter fibres.
The day, as he’d sat and waited, had been uneventful.
‘Others watch too, you know,’ Jaya had told him, which was true. On Bel’s wishes Brahl had set several scouts about with the specific task of tracking the shadowmander’s movements, yet that did not change the fact that Bel had to remain right here – and so with nothing else to do, he watched also. Jaya had grown bored with it, and had disappeared a couple of hours ago to ‘poke around’, scowling when he’d told her not to steal anything from the army. Meanwhile Querrus, who had been up all night, slept on his bedroll under the stretched canvas. That was now his domain entirely, for Jaya had managed to procure a sizeable tent for her and Bel. There had been some cat-calling from nearby soldiers as they’d erected it together, but any singled out directly by one of Jaya’s looks had been quick to fall silent.
Bel turned on his stone to consider his army. Brahl was in sight, just returned from the front, where he had set up with his officers. Bel could almost see the multiple strands of control radiating from the man, as if he stood at the centre of an enormous web. The troops answered to the troop leaders, who answered to the cerepans, under the control of the phalanx commanders, who reported to their respective gerents, all of whom reported directly to Brahl. And then a single strand from Brahl, over the grass to Bel.