We all scooted back from the ridge top and then Braylar looked at Hewspear. “We watch and wait. A day at least, possibly two. If nothing happens in that time, we leave without our quarry, and with no blood spilled. Assign two men to haunt this ridge and monitor the incredibly hostile multitude down there.”
Mulldoos had a sour look, but Braylar didn’t give him a chance to object. “Have the men alternate watch. I believe the Brunesmen are fully occupied, but as you say, Gurdinn might not be an absolute fool-it’s possible he’ll have a patrol in these woods. Counter that with our own. Understood?”
Mulldoos couldn’t have liked the orders any at all, but he knew he had pushed as far as he dared. “Aye, Cap.”
Braylar nodded to all of us. “Cold rations, voices silent, armor covered, weapons at the ready. We might need to move fast when the time comes. And you can be sure it will.” He marched down the hill without another word.
Mulldoos got up and slapped the dust and dead leaves off his legs. “Well, that’s that, then. You heard the Cap. Let’s go find a bush and get some rest. Vendurro, hold the ridge until you’re relieved. Won’t be long.”
He started down as well.
Hewspear pulled himself up to his full height, again moving gingerly. I was about to offer him a hand but didn’t want to insult him. “Shall we, Arki? There is banquet of dried goat, dried dates, and stale water waiting for us below.”
He dug the butt spike of his slashing spear into the dark earth with each step, using it as a staff to make sure he didn’t lose his footing. I gave
Vendurro a quick look-he was crawling on his belly back up to the edge of the ravine. He looked back at me and gave me a smile before returning his attention to the lodge and camp below.
I never had any cause to know soldiers particularly well before riding with the Syldoon, I’d overheard enough of them and in enough places to know the majority were exceptionally gifted grumblers, with no shortage of things to complain about. While the Syldoon were no less human than the rest, and certainly must have detested some of their duties, assignments, or discomforts, they took a queer pride in braving the worst of them, as if simply by being Syldoon they had developed a much higher tolerance for all things nasty, cold, and loathsome, and seemed to take any piling on as just another challenge to surmount.
I hurried to catch up to Hewspear, and it was him who actually reached out and caught me as I stumbled, tripping over an unseen hole in the ground. My jostling must have sent his ribs grinding, as he winced with the effort of stopping my fall, but it came and went before he assumed stoicism again.
Yes, they were a peculiar breed of men.
At the bottom of the hill, everyone was finding a place to bed down in the brush, eating what rations they had on them, all in silence as the dark came on.
I was scouting out the best spot myself, which was to say the least worst spot with the fewest roots or rotten foliage, when I spotted Braylar and the recently relieved Vendurro standing together apart from the rest.
I approached slowly, reluctant to interrupt if they were deep in conversation, and when it was obvious they weren’t, cleared my throat.
Both men looked at me, and Braylar said, “One thing you will learn traveling among soldiers-always bed down or close your eyes when you have opportunity, as sometimes it can be quite hard to come by.”
“Well,” I replied, smiling, “Being soldiers yourself, you aren’t doing a very good job of leading by example.”
“Ha! True enough. A failure of leadership on my part. Do you have something on your mind?”
I wasn’t certain this was the time or place to raise the question, and hesitated.
“Don’t be coy, archivist. I cannot abide it, and we have less time than you might think. Speak directly or not at all.”
“Well, the death of your father,” I began slowly, fully expecting him to cut me off. When he didn’t, I continued, “That seems a seminal moment. A defining moment, if you don’t mind my saying,”
“I believe I do. What of it?” he said, short, but not hostile. Yet.
I glanced at Vendurro, who was watching me carefully, curiosity on his freckled face, though whether to see how wildly I was about to misstep or how much the captain would reveal, I couldn’t say. “What happened after?”
“The vows, do you mean? The broken pledge I made before the eyes of gods and men to avenge my father? Or the other, to protect our people from the Syldoon scourge many years later, equally fractured?”
I nodded slowly.
“Those,” the captain said, “I will not tell you about just now.” I nodded again, a bit disappointed but not surprised, and at least glad to have escaped a verbal beating. But then he went on. “But I will tell you of what immediately happened after my father died.” He added quietly, almost to himself. “I am not entirely sure why. Who wishes to relive a moment of both grief and shame? I have never spoken of it, and only two others know what occurred. One, my wretch of a sister. So it might be good you get the account from me. Or perhaps I am merely melancholy. Or maybe we will all die on the morrow, so what difference does it make. Who can say?”
Vendurro said, “Aww, Cap, if it’s something you’d rather not…” But it was half-hearted at best, as it was obvious he wanted to hear it as badly as I did.
Braylar waved him off. “Days passed after my father was murdered. I don’t know how many. I’m sure I ate and shat and slept, but again, I have no recollection to support this. The first thing I remember is my mother touching my shoulder as I lay on my pallet, staring at the wall. I turned and looked at her. Expressionless, she told me Grubarr was there to see me.”
“Grubarr?” Vendurro asked, and I silently cursed myself for asking the captain to speak with a member of his company around, even one I liked. My questions were usually enough to dissolve the captain’s resolve to reveal.
“Ahh, of course-you would not know. My tribe had three priests, Earth, Sun, and Moon. Lawkeepers, among other things. Grubarr was the Earth Priest, and the kindest of the three. So when my mother roused me, I stared at her, not seeing her face, not understanding what she said. Her words were wind, a meaningless sound that provoked no response or reaction in me whatsoever. I’ve seen old men in my village, whose age outraced their minds, who no longer responded to human speech, who didn’t respond to much at all. The only thing they registered was light and dark. At night they slept. During the day, they stared. I often wondered what they were thinking about, trapped so deep inside themselves. Now I know. Nothing. They think of nothing.”
Once he started speaking about it, he didn’t slow or stop himself. “I seem to remember her shaking me, helping me stand. One of us dressed me, most likely her. And then I was outside, standing in front of Grubarr, standing alongside my sister. He looked at us, looked at my mother. I remember that. The look on his face. True sadness. But on a face that has seen much of it. And then he told me the first thing I remember with clarity. He told us that we were to prepare our father for burial. These words I understood as words, they drew me out of myself, but they still made no sense to me. Soff didn’t respond either. Grubarr looked at our mother and back to us and tried again. I remember his words that day clearly, which is surprising, given the fog I was in. He said, ‘I would it were different, truly, but you must assist today. With the burial preparations. So. Follow me, please. I will spare you the worst. But you must attend me. And we can’t wait any longer.’ And then he asked if we understood.