“We’ll be traveling through his lands without permission if we cross this way,” Sergan said.
“At this point, I don’t care. Most of that land is full of farms and wilderness. We’ll beat him to the Bloodbrick before he finds out, and whatever token force he might have there won’t be able to stop us.”
Sergan scratched at his chin, and finally he let out a sigh.
“If you think it’ll work, then that’s what we’ll do,” he said. “Though let me say now that I don’t like it. Never trust a wizard. That’s wisdom to live by.”
“Do you think Tarlak would agree?” Antonil asked.
Sergan let out a sharp laugh.
“You kidding me, your highness? He’s the one I heard it from first.”
Antonil smiled, finally feeling his mood lifting. He had a plan, a course of action. Regardless of the risk, at least he wouldn’t be helpless before Bram’s army.
“Get some sleep,” he said, rolling up his map. “We have a long march. We’ll head southeast, make Bram think we’re hoping one of the fishing villages along the coast of the delta survived, and then curl north and cross Karak’s Bridge once we’re out of sight.”
“So let’s say this works,” Sergan said. “We sneak across the river through the help of our mysterious wizardy pals, race through the wilderness, and then cross the Bloodbrick back into Mordan. What then?”
Antonil paused before the entrance to his tent. He didn’t want to lie to his dear friend, and so he didn’t.
“Then we return to Mordeina,” he said. “And once we’ve gathered another army, we’ll see just how well Bram is capable of defending the borders he’s so proud to protect. The man spat in the faces of our men this day. I have watched nations fall, angels appear, and gods die. Did he think this would be what broke me? No. Bram should have known better. Much better.”
He entered his tent, put aside his sword, and slept.
25
The army of wolf-men slept not far from the Gihon River, waiting for the right moment to strike. The night before, Moonslayer and Manfeaster had bid farewell to the other various races, sending them either farther north or south, depending on where he wanted them strike. Jessilynn had listened as they gave them their orders, chilled by their cold, brutal efficiency.
“Let no boat pass you by,” Moonslayer had shouted. “Leave the towers blinded and alone. One by one, they will fall. On the night of the full moon, make your attack. Let none survive. Eat well, my fellow creatures of the Wedge. Feast, and enjoy your freedom!”
The towers were the only line of defense against the Wedge, their boat patrols designed to keep any of the beasts from crossing. But Jessilynn knew they were few and undermanned. Could they handle an army consisting of even one of the races, let alone their combined might? Of course not, thought Jessilynn as Silver-Ear dragged her to where she would sleep for the night. The towers would fall, and beyond them were miles upon miles of farmland and simple villages. How many would die before anyone even knew the severity of the threat?
Yes, she thought. Moonslayer was right. The beasts would feast well.
“I have no chain to tie you,” Silver-Ear said. “But if you move from my side, you will suffer whatever fate you earn.”
They walked to the center of the camp, surrounded by several thousand of the beasts. Jessilynn felt their eyes upon her, their noses sniffing the scents she left behind. She nodded at Silver-Ear to show she understood. Not long after, the camp settled down to sleep. Wide-eyed and awake, Jessilynn lay upon the grass and watched the sun rise.
When Sonowin appeared, flying in from the west, she dared hope. Lying perfectly still, she watched as the winged horse circled above. She wished she could somehow communicate with Dieredon, but there was no way. In the very heart of the camp, the slightest noise would be detected by the wolf-men’s sharp ears.
Dieredon had Sonowin fly far to the east, then south, and then finally loop around north. Jessilynn was confused at first by what he was doing, but she eventually put it together. The rest of the creatures, the goat-men, the bird-men…they were all gone. He had to realize what it meant. She watched the sky, waiting, wondering what he would do. He had to have seen her there in her armor, like a strange metal flea among the sea of fur.
The elf flew lower, dipped around, and then flew even lower. Jessilynn slowly reached up a hand, trying to wave at him, to let him know she was willing for him to make any attempt to save her, no matter how desperate. Even that small movement made the chain of her armor rattle. Not loudly, and she could barely hear it herself, but Silver-Ear’s hand lashed out, old claws curling around her arm. The female leered at her with milky eyes.
“On your knees,” she said. “Push your face to the dirt.”
Jessilynn did as she was told, folding herself into the demeaning position. Silver-Ear stood above her, and her claws traced along the flesh of her neck. She shivered, wondering if this would be the end.
“I see him,” the shaman said. “Your friend is skilled, but is he wise? Let us see how brave he is, and how much your life might mean to him.”
She didn’t know what to say. Silver-Ear leaned in close, her nose bumping against her cheek.
“I want your face in the dirt until the sun sets,” she said. “Should I see your eyes on the sky for even a moment, I will rip out your throat myself. I am old. Do not think I require the sleep of a young pup.”
Jessilynn closed her eyes, shifting her shoulders in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. Within moments her back started aching, and she thought of the long day ahead. Steeling herself, she shifted again, trying to slow her breathing, trying to remain calm. She heard Silver-Ear rustle beside her, settling in. Jessilynn dared not look to see if she remained awake.
Time passed, slow and dreadful. Her back tightened, and she moved her legs as often as she could. At last, sheer exhaustion won over, and she slept.
“Wake, girl,” said a rough voice, punctuated by an upward blow to her stomach. Jessilynn let out a scream and rolled onto her back. Looking up, she found several wolf-men standing over her, Moonslayer among them. He grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet.
“The night is young,” he said to her. “Why do you sleep?”
It was mockery, and he flung her onto her rear. Her stomach twisted, and she yearned for something to eat or drink. She curled her knees beneath her, wondering what it was they wanted now.
“Stand,” Moonslayer said. “Stand, or die where you sit.”
She obeyed, trying to interpret the look he gave her. There was something in his eyes, something frightening. As she crossed her arms before her, one of the wolf-men tossed her bow at her feet, along with her quiver of arrows. She made no move for them.
“My army attacks,” Moonslayer said. “The weaker creatures are committed. I have no need of you anymore, human.”
“It is a waste of time,” Manfeaster said, joining them from beyond the camp. All around the wolf-men were in a stir, wrestling with one another, preparing for the upcoming battle. “I say we eat her now, let the blood of a paladin mark our victory.”
“We will,” Moonslayer said to his brother. His eyes turned back to her. “But first we have a hunt.”
He gestured to the bow.
“Take it,” he said. “Run. Flee west, or north, or wherever you think you might hide. My wolves are anxious for the battle, but the moon has not yet risen. You will entertain us until then.”
“You risk lives needlessly,” Manfeaster said.
“And any who would die at her hand would die anyway. Besides, her teacher defeated our father. Her kind has stopped us for centuries before. Let our pack tear her apart and prove we will be beaten no longer.”
Jessilynn watched the brothers stare at each other. It was Manfeaster who relented, flattening his ears and turning away.