They made camp in the clearing that same day. Bodies were buried, prayers were murmured, and dirges chanted brokenly. Edus and Sven joined the line of men, holding their black cauldron at either side.

“We’re days away from Talibath,” muttered Sven. “Who knows how many of their blasted Rangers are still out in these fecking woods? It’s a bleeding mistake to camp out here.”

“The Jade Company took care of the Grey,” Edus reasoned. “This spot is easily defended. They’d have to cross open ground to take us.”

A man turned his head in front of them, having already grown scruff over his hollowed cheeks. “Way I see it, the Company earned their weight in gold. Weren’t for the Jadess, we’d all be in the ground right now. Count your blessings, for we’re blessed to have them with us.”

The other soldier beside him nodded, “I’d rather have mages fight longside than no mage at all.”

Soon it was their turn to heave up the great pot to the cooks standing atop the supply wagon to fill with salt preserved chunks of meat, slivered onions, quarter hewn potatoes, and ladled water. Edus and Sven lowered the pot with care and carried it back to their tent.

“Be it as it may- watch it!” Sven snarled to a passerby that brushed by his shoulder in haste. “-Talibath’s legions aren’t far off. We all saw for ourselves that the Jadess isn’t invincible. How many mages do you reckon they have- a score, or more? Not enough to face the First Queen and her Circle. Without the Crown Steward’s aid, we’re marching to our end.”

They carried the pot with ungainly steps. It was the first time in weeks that they were separated from their squad.

“How are you, Sven?”

“Saul’s dead, Edus,” he answered flatly. “Buried in an unmarked grave. Father was at Raul. I’m just trying to make sure mother won’t be left alone when this is all over.”

His answer drew the conversation to a standstill, for Edus thought of his own mother. What would she think of him now? Could he even return now that he was a mage?

Hammers rapped on metal pegs holding the tents. Men cursed, spat, sang, or did all three deeds after another. They passed by open tents where rows of wounded lay on the grey cloth covered ground, breathing meekly as if each breath would be their last. Edus looked straight ahead, trying to ignore the mournful moans of one man before he caught a flash of light blonde hair. Hildie. They reached their tent, Grizwald already having started a fire that kept the encroaching darkness at bay.

Edus and Sven placed the cauldron overhead and he hurried back to her. She was dressing a man’s arm, crusted blood smeared up to her own forearms. Edus stared at the back of her head, hair tied in a bun, wearing a grey shawl. She turned and caught his gaze.

Her face was stricken pale, tired lines under her eyes. Edus walked to her, for she would not move to greet him.

“Why are you here?” He said simply.

Her eyes flitted round the wounded, lying deathly still.

“Would you rather they die?”

“No, but-” he grazed his hands over his head. “-this is no place for you here, Hildie. It’s not safe.”

“These men are to be ferried from here to the Middenfort. They will certainly die without medical aid. If they stand a sliver of chance for survival, I will do what I can to aid them.”

“What of the master medicus?”

Hildie's gaze lowered to the ground before flicking back to him, jaw tightening, her lips in a somber line.

“She’s dead. Arrow punctured her lung.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. But being sorry doesn’t bring her back. And this is all that ends in war, isn’t it? Blood spilled, and I try to stem the wound however I can, even if it is a river.” She knelt to check on another man, his face sullen grey. “You should go. These men need my full attention.”

Edus left her and made his way back to his camp.

“Where were you?” Corro asked.

“Taking a piss against the wind Corro,” Edus snapped. “Mind your own fecking business.”

Sven and Corro were the ones that started idle conversation, but that had died with Saul and Edgard. They supped and chewed over the stew until there was no more.

“Your sword,” Mikaal asked Jian. “Is it made of sunstone?”

Edus looked upon the scabbard at Jian’s hip now resting on the grass, the sword’s hilt shaped like a snake coiled round in an inseparable embrace, its shining head resting at the end as the pommel.

“It is the whispering snake, an heirloom passed on from each generation of the prestigious Ozashi line,” Osgood said with mocking graveness. “Jian here stole it from his brother in the dark of night, shortly after his family disowned his sorry hide. Made them angry enough to send more than a few assassins to collect the sword off his corpse. There’ll be more to come. Can honorable Jian here live always looking over his shoulder? What of his code? What of his honor?”

“They will fail, as the others before,” Jian said evenly. “And to answer your question, yes, it is made of sunstone. In Tao we call it Tian tsung. Heavenly stone.”

“I have heard tales of a crystal that hardens over decades of exposure to sunlight,” Mikaal murmured. “It changes from a soft translucent color, to a stone form stronger than perhaps even dwarven steel, brimming with light, as if it holds it. How long did it take to make such a weapon?”

“If the legends are true, at least over a century,” Jian answered. “Only four have wielded it, from my line at least. Now I am its fifth.”

“Fifth, seventh, what does it matter?” Osgood sneered after upending his flask and finding it empty. “Unless you’re a late bloomer to magehood you’ll die just as the rest of us, frail flower you are. So you have a shiny green sword. Did that pretty bird make your wee prick just as green?”

Jian stared at Osgood blankly and said, “What do you know of love? You have never been loved, and will die never being loved.”

“Love?” Osgood sniggered. “A man with nothing to lose is a man that can take everything you hold dear. You think on that, boy. Tell me, what would you do if that bird you fancy to be yours wed some common born, or better yet was to join the legions of concubines of some King or Queen? What would you do then?”

“I would free her from such a fate.”

Osgood raised his hands, looking round the circle of faces. “You hear this? You’d die for a whore, boy. Your quest to settle down with the first girl that wet your prick isn’t love. It’s a fool’s notion ending with a fool’s death. I won’t try and stop you however.”

He procured a pipe from his pack, a slender piece of wood that tapered out to a small bowl, polished to a shine in the fire’s light. Osgood sprinkled dried leaf into its end and handed two sparkstones each smaller than his palm to Mikaal.

“If you’d be so kind,” the rogue grunted, extending the pipe before him. Edus and the others looked to Grizwald. Brightleaf was banned from active duty, and punishable by flogging if caught chewing or smoking it. The captain instead said, “Let him be.”

When it was lit Osgood puffed out rings of smoke that floated above, fading to the cloud brushed stars. He stood up one knee to offer the pipe to Grizwald. White wafts of smoke soon escaped out from his nostrils, akin to a mythical fuming bull. The captain proffered the pipe to Corro beside him. When it was Edus’ turn with the pipe, he sucked at its end and spluttered in a coughing fit.

“You don’t chug a fine wine,” Osgood said, amused. “You breathe it in, savor it like you would the warmth of a woman’s body.”

Edus blinked, his head numb, the fire dancing brighter than before. He lay on the grass, taking in the night sky. His eyes skirted away from the moon, glaring in bright judgement. Thankfully a cloud passed to cover her brilliant wrath. His eyes rested on the stars, lights that were easier to rest on, twinkling ever so faintly. Birds hooted and crickets chirped in the vast glade. Men sang, laughed, cursed or cried. Edus exhaled softly, then breathed in the crisp air. He was alive.