Chapter Six

Adryngar stared out over the bay. It was a gray dawn. They were down four ships, fourteen soldiers, and eighteen civilian sailors. At least all four ships had been unloaded. Every man, woman, and child in Puddlerock currently had a soldier assigned to them. No one was permitted to leave the town until the perpetrators had been punished.

“Would anyone like to tell me how this happened?”

Everyone present—the undergenerals, Djamer, and Gazza—remained silent for a few moments before Gazza spoke up. “It was a beast.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Adryngar said irritably. “We all saw it. I want to know who was riding the damn thing.”

No one spoke.

“I’m going to go speak to Balatharsas, then.”

“I’ve already questioned him,” Gazza said, offended.

“Excellent. I’m going to ask him again. In the meantime, change shifts on the salvage crew, they’ve been at it for hours.” Adryngar headed down the hill toward the village.

“I said I questioned him! Do you doubt my intelligence?”

Adryngar ignored her. He didn’t have time for this sort of shit. He hated rebels, and Balatharsas was certainly rebelling. They’d been here all of a day and already the old idiot had gotten it into his head that the Vloss could be simply driven away. Adryngar was going to have to prove him wrong immediately.

He fingered the hilt of his sword as he walked up Puddlerock’s muddy street. Where had they been keeping that fire-breathing beast? Certainly not in the tower. It was a massive creature, with four stumpy legs connected by folds and folds of loose skin that it used to fly, a head that seemed too big for its scaly body, and a long, thick tail. An archer had brought it down eventually with an arrow that had gone through one the beast’s bulging eyes and out the back of its head. But it had set thirteen ships on fire before that happened. A disaster. If there were more of these, they were going to need to develop countermeasures, and quickly.

He was very irritated by the time he got to the tower. He nodded to the soldiers stationed on either side and walked in without knocking. There were two guards on every floor, as he had ordered. Balatharsas was in his bed at the top floor, his son sitting cross-legged on the floor. The boy jumped up as Adryngar came up the stairs.

“I was under the impression we had an agreement,” Adryngar said.

“We do have an agreement,” Balatharsas coughed.

“It would appear you’ve violated it.”

“If you’re here about the dragon, I’ve already spoken to your underling.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“That I knew nothing about any such attack.”

“Fascinating,” Adryngar said. “I’d like you to tell me where your people store their goods.”

The old man blinked quickly. The useless-old-man facade flickered for an instant. “Excuse me?”

“My men have searched Puddlerock. All the buildings here are houses and shops. There aren’t any warehouses for goods or provisions. The closest thing is that shack in the square with kro drying racks. The houses have very little in the way of food. Where do you keep everything?”

“We’re a poor village. Haven’t got anything to store.”

Adryngar struck like a snake. He dropped his helmet, caught Balatharsas’s son, yanked him close, and put a dagger to the boy’s throat. The boy struggled and kicked, so Adryngar pressed the dagger a little, enough to draw a drop of blood and shut the child up. “I’m going to ask you again. I’d like you to consider your answer a little more carefully, understand?”

Balatharsas had gone completely white, making his thin beard and hair look dirty and gray by contrast. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a reason to answer truthfully, and a warning about what will happen if you don’t.” Adryngar couldn’t tell if the old man was shaking with fury or horror. “So, where do your people store their goods?”

Balatharsas stared at him. His mouth opened and closed a few times. Adryngar pressed a little harder with the knife, making the boy yelp. Oh, shut up, I’m not going to hurt you. Everyone talks when you threaten their whelps.

The old man apparently came to a decision. “There’s a cave system.”

“Oh? What kind of caves?”

“They go for miles. There are similar systems in other places in Cuisienne. They might even be connected, I don’t know. We use them for everything.”

“And you had a dragon down there?”

“Not permanently. A rider from Unai was on his way down to Rakken, staying in Puddlerock for the night. When your sails were seen on the horizon, we took him down into the caves.”

“And how did this rider end up setting fire to my ships?”

“I told him what you told me. He decided to destroy your supplies, take care of you before you could do any damage. But you killed him.”

“That’s so. What’s down there now?”

“Our guard. It’s only ten people, and they’re responsible for protecting the whole ardienn. And there’s our stores, of course. Mostly food and wood, a couple of weapons.”

Adryngar released the boy, who leapt back to his father’s bed, his hand at the scratch on his throat. “Thank you for your cooperation, Balatharsas. I hope nothing like this will happen in the future.”

Balatharsas’s ancient hands were clamped tightly around his son. “I don’t think it will.”

“Excellent,” Adryngar said. “Can I assume that every house in this village has an entrance into these caves?”

“Yes.”

“And might one be concealed in that shack in the square?”

“...Yes.”

“Thank you. Have a pleasant day.” Adryngar picked up his helmet and left.

He found Gazza waiting for him, her white face twisted in a furious grimace. “And what have you discovered?”

“There’s a cave system below this village. Maybe below this whole peninsula. We’re going to need to take control of it.”

“A cave... what?”

“That’s where they keep all their stores. The dragon was down there.”

“Dragon?”

“That’s what the beast is called. It came from Unai.”

“What was it here for?”

“It was on its way to Rakken for some reason. You can ask Balatharsas if you’re curious. I’m going to organize a search of the local caves.”

“So is he a rebel?”

“Not for the moment. But if we want it to stay that way, I think this village could do with a good show of force.”

Adryngar put Tansul in charge of searching the caves. Uskran’s caution made the older undergeneral seem like the natural choice, but Adryngar knew that Tansul had been a rebel in the western mountains before repenting and joining the army. He would know about caves.

In the meantime, Adryngar set up a second wave of day scouts and worked on filling in Djamer’s map with the scouts from the previous day while a slave scribe copied each scout’s report in full. He politely asked Djamer to learn what he could of Cuisienne’s politics from Balatharsas. He also gave orders for each house’s cave entrance blocked off, leaving only the public entrance open, so that no civilians got any ideas.

Once each scout’s report had been recorded and added to the map, he enlisted Uskran and Paervorenth to look it over and come up with plans of attack for each of the larger coastal villages. He sent a messenger to inform cavalry officers to exercise their horses well to help them recover from their sojourn aboard the ships, only to discover that they were already doing it.

At midday, a human in standard Cuisienne rags approached him in the command tent. “General?”

“Who are you?” Adryngar said in surprise. Who the fuck let you in?

The human bowed. “Zavva, at your service. I’m an intelligence officer, one of the first sent to Rune.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About six turns—months. I have some informers that told me an armada had docked at Puddlerock. I didn’t see that it could be anyone else.”

“What information have you gathered?”

Zavva pulled a battered journal from a place where Adryngar hadn’t realized he had a pocket. “Most of it’s in here, sir. I’ve learned as much as I could. Political climate here is pretty boring. Runers are a straightforward people. Strength at arms is difficult to estimate. Unai and Alddra are the only countries that have any kind of serious standing army, outside of city guards, and Alddra’s is tenuous. Apparently, in times of war, everyone else just asks for volunteers.”

“That sounds... inefficient.”

Zavva shrugged. “I can’t say whether it works or not, sir. Like I said, not much going on, hasn’t in years. I’ve been in Eldden and Cuisienne, mostly. Alddra’s ridiculously xenophobic, they hardly ever let in outsiders. Unai’s not much better. Skel’ing and Rakken are tribal.”

“Surely you have some information on Unai and Alddra?”

The spy grinned. “I wouldn’t be much of an intelligence officer if I didn’t, sir. I couldn’t get into the seats of government, but I can tell you something about their populations, their defenses, their warriors.”

“Excellent. We’ll deal with them later. For now, what do you have on Cuisienne?”

Zavva started to speak, but was interrupted by three short blasts on a Vloss war horn—a call for reinforcements. Adryngar grabbed his sword belt and helmet and rushed outside. He looked down the hill toward Puddlerock. In the center, the rickety building concealing the public cave entrance had been knocked down. There was a knot of people locked in combat there, with more spilling out of the cave every moment.

“First and Second Cavalry, prepare! Fifth Infantry, form up!” Adryngar boomed. Horns and criers spread the order quickly. He sprinted toward the temporary paddock that had been set up the previous day and whistled sharply for his destrier, Bakal, along with several hundred other men. Each horse honed in on its rider easily—cavalry drilled preparing until a geared-up man could find his horse, tack it up, and be in formation in three minutes.

The First and Second Cavalry Regiments, three hundred twenty horse strong each, were ready in two and a half, formed up in four lines each. The Fifth Infantry Battalion, six hundred forty strong, was ready much more quickly, formed up in ranks of eight. Adryngar waited at the head of the First Cavalry, sword drawn. “Second Cavalry and infantry, circle the village, I don’t want anyone in or out! First with me! Subdue if you can, kill if you can’t!” he roared. He spun Bakal around and led the regiments at a gallop down the muddy camp thoroughfare, out the main gate, and down the hill into the village.

Tansul and the regiment he had taken into the caves were scattered throughout the village’s pitiful square, fighting people who appeared to be peasants, wearing helms made of buckets and cuirasses of kro. There were several hundred of them. For the moment, Adryngar spared no thought for where the hell they had come from.

When the peasants caught sight of the charging cavalry, they ran, almost to a man, ducking behind houses and boulders. They went down the village’s paths, trying to get away, but the Second was already blocking them off, chasing down those who escaped. The First was riding them down. One brave idiot turned to face Adryngar and tried to cut Bakal’s armored reins, but he missed, and Adryngar used the horse’s momentum to swing his sword and cut the man nearly in half.

It was over quickly. The charge had completely shattered the peasants. All that was left was to round up the survivors and herd them into the village square. The infantry had blocked off the village by that time, with the help of the survivors from Tansul’s regiment and the guards that had been posted in the village earlier.

Adryngar trotted up to Tansul, who appeared unharmed, and dismounted. “What happened?”

“Been lied to again, I’m afraid,” the Ienian said. “Those cave systems are huge. We were quite a ways in when they ambushed us. They came at us from all sides. Pretty hairy fight back to the surface. Casualties... ten units, at least.”

“Any hint as to where they came from?”

“Not really. They can’t all be from Puddlerock, though. Not enough people in the village. Those caves have to connect to other villages.”

Adryngar sighed. “Of course they do. I’m going to have a word with Balatharsas. You tally casualties, get that lot stripped, and get a couple slavemasters down here. It’s high time we collect our first batch.”

He rode Bakal up to the tower—didn’t I just do this?—and climbed the steps up to Balatharsas’s room. The old man was in his bed again, apparently waiting for him.

“Care to explain?” Adryngar asked.

“Not much to explain,” Balatharsas said. “We set up a little coup. Obviously, it failed.” He seemed to have dropped his facade entirely.

“I’d say you have more than ten guards. I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

“No, that was true. We have ten commissioned guards in the whole ardienn. But the Elddener instituted a practice of keeping our families battle-ready.”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t get a certain amount of satisfaction from reporting that your ‘battle-ready’ peasants are about to become the first Runer slaves of the Vloss Empire.”

“Slaves, eh?” Balatharsas said. “No honor in your empire, then?”

“It’s not my favorite system, but it’s certainly functional. And fair.”

“Hmmph!” Balatharsas snorted. “And what fate do you have planned for me?”

“You’ll—“ Adryngar stopped. Thirty years in the army had honed his ability to sense danger to a razor edge, and at the moment, it was telling him that something was wrong. “Where’s Djamer?”

Balatharsas was silent.

“And your son. Where?”

The old man remained mute as a stone.

Adryngar stepped forward and caught him around the throat. “Where?”

Something small collided with his back. He spun around and hefted a struggling boy to eye level. “You little—“

The boy raised both hands, and suddenly Adryngar’s helmet was full of ice. He dropped the child and gave him a good hard kick while he scrabbled at his helmet, trying to remove it. His gauntleted fingers found the chinstrap’s buckle as he heard people running up the stairs. He fumbled with it, trying to breathe through the ice, until he finally undid it, ripped the helmet off, and shook his head, coughing and shedding bits of ice and frost everywhere.

There were eight more people in the room than there had been when he had arrived, a mix of men and women. They wore peasant clothes, but they held old halberds and makeshift maces—one even had a rust-spotted sword—and they looked more ready to use them than any peasants Adryngar had ever seen.

He dropped his helmet—damn kid, a fucking free mage, why didn’t Djamer notice—and drew his sword. His shield was back with Bakal. But he was armored, and they weren’t. And he was a soldier, and they were peasants.

All the same, he waited for them to make the first move. They didn’t disappoint. The one with the sword came first, charging straight at him. A strong man who put a lot of power behind his swing, but had obviously never been trained in the use of a sword. He committed himself too heavily to recover, so it was simple to sidestep his strike and land a solid blow to his back.

Two of the halberds had attacked as soon as they saw the swordsman fall to the floor, screaming, getting blood everywhere. Adryngar backed out of their reach as quickly as he could, waited for one to swing again, and lunged. He got up close, caught the man, and swung him around just in time to catch the blow that the other halberd had prepared. The halberd’s blade landed at the junction between the man’s neck and shoulder, cleaving him a good six inches past the collarbone, and the spike nicked Adryngar’s right ear. The horrified woman holding the halberd tried to withdraw her weapon, but it was caught in the dead man. Adryngar flung the body forward into the woman, leapt after it, and put a hole in her chest. He turned to the others. Four maces and one halberd left.

The halberd came in first. Adryngar dodged right, but the halberd was quicker than his predecessors, and the spike hit his cuirass hard. He staggered backward, but caught the halberd behind the blade with his hand and yanked. The man tripped over a body as he was jerked forward and lost his grip on the weapon. Adryngar jabbed the halberd back at him, hitting him hard in the stomach. Unfortunately whatever smith had made the weapon hadn’t bothered to put a butt cap on the end, and the man was only hit with wood. Still, it knocked the wind out of him, so Adryngar had time to swing and hit him in the head, crumpling him.

One of the maces had taken the opportunity to get behind him. Adryngar heard something whistling through the air and ducked. The mace’s rough metal head hit the stone wall, scattering bits of rock and bouncing back, throwing the wielder off balance. Adryngar lunged at her and cracked her head against the wall. He turned and saw another mace swinging at him. He leapt out of the way, but the mace caught him in the back, knocking him down. The man went for his head, and Adryngar rolled. The mace hit the floor instead. Adryngar grabbed the man’s ankle and pulled, dropping him to the floor. He got up quickly, despite the ache in his back, and moved back to give himself a few seconds to regain his composure.

He didn’t have long. One of the women ran right at him. He ducked her swing and rammed into her with his shoulder, knocking her down. He plunged his sword into her chest and went for the man still getting up, nearly decapitating him with a single even stroke. The last mace backed up toward Balatharsas’s bed, where the old man looked like he was about to have a heart attack. The woman was pale and shaky. She didn’t look nearly as confident now that she was alone. Adryngar didn’t like it when women intruded on the battlefield, so he ended it quickly. He walked right up to her, caught her arm as she swung at him, and put his sword through her chest.

The child was getting back up, despite at least two broken ribs—Adryngar had heard the cracks—so Adryngar gave him another kick on his way to Balatharsas’s bedside.

“With all due respect for your station and revolutionary ambition, I’m tired of this shit,” he said. His adrenaline was still going strong. He dragged the old man out of the bed and onto the floor with one hand, sheathed his sword, grabbed the child with the other hand, and shoved both of them down the stairs. Then he picked up his helmet and followed them, shaking the last bits of ice out of it and putting it back on.

He found the two guards that had been set at the tower doors dead on the first floor, and hot fury rose in him. He gave Balatharsas a kick to shut him up and keep him down. “Where’s Djamer?”

Balatharsas whimpered. “Who?”

“The battlemage! Dresses in black, can’t see his eyes!”

“I don’t know who he is.”

Adryngar kicked him again. “Don’t fuck with me. He came up here to talk to you. He didn’t come back, and he’s not here now. Where is he?”

“I don’t know!”

Adryngar picked the old man up by his once-fine robes and threw him across the room. Carefully, so that his head landed on the pile of sacks but the rest of him hit the stone floor. “Where?!”

“He’s under!” The answer didn’t come from Balatharsas.

Adryngar spun to look at the boy, who was still curled up on the floor. “In the caves?”

“He looked at me funny. Asked all kind of questions. Then he went for me, so I hit him back and put him in the caves.”

“Fantastic. You’re going to take me to him.” He kicked the boy again to make sure he didn’t move, tore up an empty sack and tied Balatharsas to a post with it, and left. He mounted Bakal and cantered back down to the square, his back and stomach aching.

He didn’t like hurting children. Threatening them, yes, fine, but breaking their ribs... The boy was a free mage, and therefore not really a person, but he still looked like a child. It made Adryngar uncomfortable. It didn’t help that the boy, with his thin frame and tattered clothes, reminded him unavoidably of the other children that had worked the mine with him when he was young. Sentiment will get you killed. Don’t pay it any mind.

The square was full of activity. Most of the captured peasants had been stripped naked and were being catalogued by slavemasters. He stopped a couple of Second Cavalry men who were dragging peasant bodies to a pile. “With me.” They obeyed immediately and went to fetch their horses while Adryngar went to Tansul, who was organizing transport for Vloss wounded too badly to walk back to camp.

“There’s more of them,” Adryngar said.

“How many?” Tansul asked, skipping surprise and going straight to dealing with the problem. Adryngar liked quick reactions in his officers.

“Not sure. I just killed eight of them up at the tower. Organize a search. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re going to have to go back into the caves, with serious force this time. Djamer’s missing. I’m taking half a cavalry unit to go find him.”

“Sure you don’t want more? I’ve got Seventh Infantry helping too now, so we can spare a unit.”

“Thanks. I’ll take them.”

Tansul turned. “Trav! Your unit, with the general, now!”

Four men who had been about to enter a nearby hut turned and ran to the general, stopping in formation. The two Second Cavalry men arrived on horse at the same time.

“Up to the tower, quick time,” Adryngar said. He set off at a trot, the infantry following at a steady jog and the cavalry bringing up the rear.

“Good luck!” Tansul called.

It was starting to rain again. Not that it ever seemed to completely stop here. A night out in the rain had gotten most of the horses used to it, but Adryngar could hear one of the two behind him taking short, irregular steps—it was still shifty about the idea of water coming from the sky.

Adryngar dismounted at the tower and went inside immediately. The men followed him in. The boy was still on the floor, shaking a little. Adryngar yanked him to his feet and caught him before he could fall down again. “Stand up!” The boy got his feet under him, now crying. “Take us to Djamer.” Adryngar gave the boy a push, and he shuffled painfully over to a nondescript area of floor and pressed a stone.

To Adryngar’s utter astonishment, a section of floor completely indistinguishable from the rest simply melted away, revealing a long, steep stone tunnel into darkness. More magic. It was dripping with water.

“We’re going to need light,” he said.

There were brackets on the wall with unlit torches in them. They were miraculously dry. Each man took one, and one of the infantry lit his with a flint and steel and passed the light around. Adryngar nodded at the boy. “Get going.”

The tunnel was treacherous. It looked like it had been carved out by hand and smoothed by the constant passage of water, leaving little purchase. The ceiling was low and the walls were close, forcing them to bend down and hold the torches directly in front of them, making it hard to see what was coming, especially through a helmet. The Vloss kept slipping, but the boy did not.

They picked their way along for about twenty minutes. Adryngar wasn’t looking forward to climbing back up again. It would be one straight stretch, and a slip would send them all the way back down. He was just wondering if one of them should go back for rope when the boy stopped.

Adryngar peered forward. He saw the boy, and then darkness. “Where are we?”

The boy stretched out a bloody finger. “He’s down there.” He pressed himself gingerly up against the wall, leaving a space open for Adryngar to look.

Adryngar eyed him suspiciously for a moment before stepping forward. There was a hole in the tunnel floor. He couldn’t tell how large. It could have stretched for ten feet ahead of them or fifty. Water dripped down into it, stretching endlessly into darkness. Adryngar held his sputtering torch out over the hole. He couldn’t see a bottom. “You dropped him down there?”

“Pushed him down the tunnel. He would’ve fallen down there.”

“How far does it go?”

The boy didn’t respond.

“Has anyone ever been down there?”

A call sounded out of the darkness below, echoing up through the tunnel.

“Djamer?” Adryngar called.

A voice responded, but it was distorted by the tunnel too much to understand.

Adryngar turned to the boy. “Has anyone ever been down there?” he repeated.

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but another distorted call came up from the depths. The man behind Adryngar shifted uneasily. Then he slipped. Adryngar flung out his arm to stop him, but it was too late. The soldier toppled forward into him, sending them both down into the emptiness.

Adryngar landed hard. His armor and padding cushioned him, but on top of his sore back and stomach, it was still very uncomfortable. Then his head hit the stony floor of the cave, and his scars lit up in lines of fire. Water splashed around him and up into his helmet. The soldier landed on top of him and slipped off to the side, groaning.

“Sorry! Sorry, sir.”

Adryngar pushed himself to his feet painfully. Oh, fuck, his head. They were ankle deep in water now. It flowed around them quickly, sluicing away into the darkness. “Private, in future, please try to avoid landing on people.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The soldier got to his feet.

Adryngar looked up, the movement sending shooting pains through his skull. There was light about fifteen feet above them, and darkness all around. Both of their torches were underwater. “Can one of you drop down a torch?” he called.

After a minute one dropped down. Adryngar caught it and held it aloft to survey their surroundings. They were in a small open chamber with two tunnels branching off. There was no sign of the mage. “Djamer?”

Another distorted call came from one of the tunnels. Adryngar sighed. “I guess we’re going there.” He turned to the hole they had fallen down. “If we’re not back in twenty minutes, go get backup,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir! Do you want anyone else to come down with you?”

“No, we should be all right, we’re not going to go very far. Keep an eye on the kid and watch your footing.”

“Yes, sir. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He headed down the tunnel, the other soldier behind him. “You’re Trav, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Quite the talent for first impressions you’ve got there. Is this your first campaign?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bad luck. Don’t let it be your last.”

“I’ll do what I can, sir.”

The tunnel didn’t lead them down as steeply as the first one had. Nor was it as slippery. But the water was getting steadily deeper and faster. After a few minutes, Adryngar called for Djamer again, trying to ignore how any noise made his head throb harder. The answering call was less warped now, but they still couldn’t make out the words.

“Do you think this connects with the caves, sir?” Trav asked, voicing a concern that had been on Adryngar’s mind ever since they had fallen. “There might be an ambush waiting for us.”

“I haven’t discounted the possibility. On one hand, you probably don’t want to push an enemy battlemage into your secret hideout, but on the other hand, you don’t build a secret passageway to nowhere.”

“You definitely think it’s built, then?”

“Some of it is. I think the part we’re in now is more or less natural, but that tunnel from the tower was certainly carved out.”

They went in silence for a little longer. Adryngar was just starting to think they would have to go back when he saw a light ahead. It was blue and unnaturally steady. “That’s either Djamer or something dangerous,” he said softly. “Sword and shield out.” He drew his own sword and heard Trav slide his shield off of his back and onto his arm, then do the same.

They edged around a corner and into an open space. It appeared to be a small natural cave. A tall dark figure was silhouetted in the blue light.

“Djamer?” Adryngar asked.

The battlemage turned around. “General. I wondered how long it would take you to notice I was missing.”

“There’s been another attack,” Adryngar said, sheathing his sword. “We put it down. Balatharsas will be executed when we get back.”

“And his child?”

“Mage. I gathered that you noticed and he threw you down here.”

“Something along those lines. I trust he is being detained.”

“He’s under guard. I had him take me and six men down here. He and the others didn’t fall, so I instructed them to remain there.” He gestured at the other end of the cave, where the water continued into darkness. “Is that an exit?” Then he looked at the source of the light. “Did you make that?”

Djamer glanced at it. Atop an apparently natural pillar, a ball of white-blue light rested, pulsing gently. “No. And no.”

“What is it?”

“The light or the tunnel?” Djamer sounded almost amused. Then he returned to his usual chilly tone. “In either case, it is none of your concern, General.”

Adryngar felt a hot stab of anger through the pain—he was heading the campaign, he was in charge of saving all of their lives, and he didn’t appreciate having information kept from him—but he wasn’t about to argue with a battlemage, especially when he was nauseous and muddled from pain. Djamer wouldn’t intentionally sabotage the campaign, so whatever the light was, and wherever the tunnel led, it couldn’t be particularly important. “We need to be getting back.”

Djamer nodded, flicked fire into existence in the palm of his hand, and stalked off back the way they had come.

Balatharsas was a wreck. When Trav untied him, he sank to the floor and lay there, unmoving. The boy made to rush to his father, but one of the Second Cavalry men caught him and bound his wrists. Adryngar nudged Balatharsas with his boot. “He’s out.”

“He’ll need to be conscious for his execution,” Djamer said.

The boy yelled and began to struggle. The Second Cavalry man stuffed a rag in his mouth and tied a second rag around his head to keep the gag in place.

“I’ll have Private Vakov see to it,” Adryngar said. “I think the hounds would be an appropriate method.”

“Suitably messy,” Djamer said. The eyeless helm turned to look at Adryngar. “The free mage can be dealt with at the same time, as soon as possible.”

Does he think I’m going to refuse to execute a child? “I agree. Puddlerock needs to be put down immediately.”

Djamer inclined his head slightly. “Make the appropriate arrangements.”

Adryngar nodded. Emperor. He never misses a chance to remind me where I stand. He turned to the infantry. “I want your unit guarding the free mage. Cavalry, take Balatharsas to the medics, and then you can get back to the square.” He left without waiting for acknowledgement.

For important executions, deaths that had to have a serious impact, death by hound was the only logical option. Adryngar thought it would be particularly effective here, as he had seen no sign of any inagovs.

Every impact of his horse’s hooves on the wet, rocky ground jarred his head and annoyed him more. The pain had faded a little, but it was still enough to make him sick, and his back and stomach weren’t helping matters. He gritted his teeth. He needed his wits for the inagovs.

The kennels, consisting of several large tents as a temporary arrangement, were quiet. The unnatural silence of inagov hounds was one of the reasons most people didn’t like them. They almost never barked, growled, or vocalized in any way, and when they were stalking prey... that was when it happened. Part of inagov magic was their ability to make sound die around them. When they didn’t want to be heard, the world would go silent. Any noise you made would seem to die on contact with the air. If you really tried, you could talk, but when pursued by an inagov, you’d have to be a fool to want to.

The kennel master was slouched on a stool outside a tent, casually sharpening a carving knife. Adryngar was grateful, although the sight of the carving knife and the smell of raw meat made him think of the hounds eating, which unsettled his stomach worse than it already was. At least he didn’t have to actually see the hounds until later. The kennel master looked up, dropped the knife and whetstone, leapt to his feet and saluted. “General!”

“At ease.” Adryngar didn’t particularly like the kennel master. If he was honest with himself, most of it was that he didn’t really trust anyone who loved inagovs, which the kennel master certainly did. The man often actually embraced the animals, treating them like ordinary dogs. Adryngar didn’t like dogs much as a whole, but he could understand how some people might. Inagovs, though... no matter. The inagovs responded to the kennel master as if he were one of them, making him a very useful man.

“Two of your charges will be required for an execution.”

The kennel master nodded. “Yes, sir. When and where, sir?”

“It will be in the village. The platform still needs to be constructed. I’ll send a messenger to you when it’s time. I just wanted to make sure they’re ready.”

“I was about to feed them. I’ll be sure to leave two hungry, sir.”

“Good.” Adryngar left and headed for the medical tents. The kennels were at the edge of camp closest to the village, so he took a moment to look down the hill, past the fortifications, as much to clear his head as anything else.

There was still plenty of activity in the square. The slaves had been sorted and were being led back to the camp in groups. A platform was already springing up, made of the remains of the building that had hidden the public cave entrance. The piles of dead were burning, the Runers separate from the Vloss. The tower rose crookedly on the hill at the other end of the village. Another wave of heavy rain was approaching, judging by the buildup of dark clouds out to sea. No wonder Vloss doesn’t get any bloody rain. This place steals it all.

“Hasn’t gone as smoothly as we might have hoped, eh, General?”

Adryngar turned and saw Drozgol standing there, his helmet clipped to his belt. “Not quite, Captain.”

“So are we finally executing the old man?”

“Yes. His son too.”

Drozgol’s face went hard. “I see.”

“The child has the Song.”

“Oh. Better do it quick, then,” Drozgol said, all concern vanishing.

Adryngar nodded. He didn’t much feel like making conversation.

“So when are we moving out?”

“I’m not sure yet. Not for a while, I should think. I want Puddlerock well and truly dealt with before we go. It’ll be our base of operations until we find something better. And of course the caves are a problem. We’ll move into those in force soon.”

“We’ve got more than enough force to subdue Puddlerock. Surely you can spare at least a few battalions to take the nearby towns?”

“Yes, I’m sure we can. But I want to be sure about this cave thing first. I’ve had enough surprises.”

“Fair enough. So what’re you going to do? Just wall off Puddlerock’s section of the caves?”

“That’s essentially the plan, yes,” Adryngar said, nettled.

“Seems a bit tedious, is all.”

“Droz, I’m executing two people in a few minutes. I can discuss strategy with you afterward.”

Drozgol snorted. “One of them is a free mage, and one of them is responsible for the death of Vloss troops. It shouldn’t be too taxing.”

“Duly noted, Captain.”

The Turok frowned. “You all right?”

Adryngar sighed. “Yes, I’m fine. Just sore and irritated.”

“You let a human hit you? Emperor, you’re getting old.”

“Several humans, with weapons. I also fell fifteen feet onto rocks. It’s been a shitty morning.”

“So I see. Well, the execution ought to be pretty cathartic for you then.”

“It’s by hound.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Bloody dogs.”

“And the free mage looks like a child... yes. I’m sorry. Just get it over with quickly, then, set the hounds on both of them at once.”

“No, can’t do it. The free mage will be executed first. For safety as well as punishment for his father. Then Balatharsas, after the inagovs have finished with his son. It’ll make more of an impact on the locals that way. And the sight of their warriors enslaved will help.”

“Right. It’ll be worth it.” Drozgol frowned in silence for a moment. Adryngar saw an echo of his own reluctance on his friend’s face before it was masked with the usual toothy smile.

“And remember, no one will be able to tell if you close your eyes inside your helmet.”

Adryngar laughed humorlessly. “I’m not entirely human, you know. I do have the stomach to kill my own prisoners.”

“Glad to hear it. Think of it this way: at least you’re not the poor sods that have to clean up the mess.”

“No. That’ll be the new slaves. The officers of the little coup, if we can get them.”

“Good. The quicker we deal with this bunch, the sooner we get to have some real fun. I can’t wait to fight these iveri on horseback.”

“Thirty years of war, and you still haven’t lost your enthusiasm?”

“Of course not. I’m naturally optimistic.”

“You should consider becoming a minstrel. Apart from the propensity for carnage, it’s a very similar skill set to the one you’ve managed to cultivate.”

Drozgol leaned against a post. “What, attaining glory left and right?”

“I was thinking more of the optimism, the talent for exaggeration, and the tendency to bed every other person you come across.”

Drozgol laughed. “You should be glad it includes the inability to take offense.”

“Emperor. You might have really missed out on an easy life.”

The captain laughed again. “A good thing too, or you’d be dead.” He walked away singing, “Oh, in Sulen town there lived a maid, shaking the sheets out was her trade, so I said here, try out mine, they’re quite impressive you’ll find...”

Adryngar smiled despite himself.

The square was deadly quiet. It was filled with peasants and slaves, kept in place by soldiers. The entire population of Puddlerock, plus their reinforcements, now slaves. Adryngar rode slowly down the middle of them, Bakal neatly in frame, the destrier’s heavy plate barding glinting, not making a sound. The horse had an uncanny sense for the dramatic. Adryngar appreciated it. The more impressive he looked, the less likely Puddlerock would be to rebel. Again.

He stopped at the hastily constructed platform and dismounted. It was only five steps up. Adryngar took them slowly, deliberately, his hand on his sword’s pommel. Someone led Bakal out of the way, ensuring that the crowd would have a very good view.

“You have fought bravely. You concealed your warriors, rebelled against what you believed to be an alien threat. For this, Vloss commends you.” Adryngar heard Gazza shift behind him. Emperor, do not let her interrupt me. “But you have fought us in error. Our goals are more alike than you know.

“You may keep your laws and your customs. Keep your homes, keep your lands. Keep your lives. All we ask is that you bend beneath us. Take on some few of our laws. Let us remain in peace.”

He gestured to Balatharsas and his son, bound and kneeling on the platform. “You may not have heard. We offered peace. We offered friendship. We were refused. Balatharsas decided that your lives were worth less than his tower, so he offered you up, set you against us. We, who wish only peace.” He judged the crowd. Am I overplaying it? They were silent.

“We have fought each other needlessly. There need be no war between us. We ask only three things. Firstly, offer us a small portion of your harvest.”

There was an outbreak of muttering, as Adryngar had expected. The people had little enough for themselves, let alone stores to offer an army. That was why he had said it first, to get the worst out of the way quickly.

“We will take only what you can give. You need not fear for your survival. Secondly, you will not resist the Vloss. Raise no hand nor weapon against us.” That was standard. They had to expect that. “Lastly, there will be no magic permitted unless the mage offers himself to the Vloss.”

The crowd was quiet again. Adryngar quickly surveyed a few faces. It’s a good deal. Better than they could possibly have hoped for. Emperor, let them realize it. Fuck, my head. The slaves ranged from sullen to mutinous. The peasants, those who had not fought, ranged from thoughtful to bored. Understandable. Their lot’s about the same no matter who rules them. Why should they care?

“You have been gathered here today to see justice done. Balatharsas, your acting leader, has broken two accords with me. He has refused peace, and instead laid traps and attacked us. For this, we punish him.” He moved to stand behind Balatharsas’s son. “For his crime, he will be executed. But before that, he will watch his son die.”

He raised a hand to quiet the outbursts of anger from the crowd. “His son is a free mage.” There was another round of murmurs. “He concealed this from us. He used the Song against us. For this, we sentence them both.”

He walked to the kennelmaster, ignoring the various looks that Gazza, Djamer, and the undergenerals gave him, and took an inagov leash. The beast walked with him to stand behind the boy. Its cropped ears were pitched forward, its long, narrow jaws dripping with saliva that froze solid when it touched the planks. Steam rose from its mouth and skeletal nose. Disgusting. He could feel the cold of the inagov through his armor. It made his bones ache. The hound was excited. Its stance thrummed with energy. Its pale, shining eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the boy—free mage, free mage, it is not a child, it is a free mage—in front of it.

It was hungry. Very hungry.

Adryngar checked the distance between himself and the boy—he didn’t want to get splattered—and released the hound. Free mage. Free mage. Emperor, it’s not a child!

The inagov covered the space in a single bound. Adryngar couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes as the inagov struck, but he forced them open again and watched. The boy’s scream was cut off quickly as the hound tore out his throat, as Vloss hounds were trained to do. The only sounds, apart from a few gasps and stifled shrieks from the crowd, were those of snapping bones and the crunching of flesh frozen by the inagov. It took a few minutes for the hound to eat its fill, but it felt like hours. Not a child, not a child.

Eventually, it was over. The hound poked its skeletal nose casually through the frost-covered remains, lapped indifferently at a pool of blood that quickly froze around its tongue, and sauntered back to Adryngar, who took up its leash, fighting to calm his roiling stomach, and handed it back to the kennelmaster in exchange for the other hound.

Balatharsas had not made a sound. The old man was so still that for a moment Adryngar thought he might have died. Then Balatharsas took a deep breath, as if to steel himself, and Adryngar released the second hound.

There were no sounds from the crowd this time.