pig.”
“Cold as ice.”
“Did you see his eyes?”
He kept walking, but Will couldn’t help but enhance his hearing as he went. Well beyond earshot, he could still hear them talking.
“That was nothing. He walked up to the gate and it started screaming before the whole building came down on top of him, and he just walked away afterward. Everyone else was dead.”
“He’s not human.”
“I heard he sold his soul to Marduke. He’s not afraid of anything because he’s already dead.”
Shaking his head, Will went to his tent and had the sullen Lieutenant Renly pour him a large cup of wine. His head hurt, and he hoped that the wine would help, at least temporarily. Despite the constant stream of men coming in an out for orders, he felt alone. Laina had been gone less than half a day and he already missed her. He regretted sending his father into the city to meet with the civil officials and try to get an accounting of the city’s current state.
Technically, he’d accomplished his goal in taking Maldon, but killing Fraelis had left him feeling unclean, even though he’d already used Selene’s spell to remove the dirt and grime he’d accumulated. It went deeper than that. I did the right thing, he reassured himself, but deep down, he knew there were stains on his soul he would never rid himself of.
During a brief lull in messengers, Will realized he hadn’t even thought about the men who had died when the gate exploded. So much had happened, there hadn’t been time. No one would reasonably blame him; it was a war, after all. It was an accident, he told himself, I had no idea that would happen. But then again, he’d had enough awareness to warn them when it was too late.
“I’m no better than the man I just executed,” he muttered quietly. Thinking about the most recent assassination attempt against him, Will wondered what the families of the men whom he had killed would think. Some might consider it a freak event in a chaotic war, but others would blame him. How many sons, daughters, wives, and parents might want him dead in the years to come?
And worst of all, deep down, he didn’t care, not as much as he should. I made mistakes, but I only did what I thought was best. He felt remorse, but mostly he was worried about the consequences. More people would want him dead, and Selene could suffer once again, simply for being his wife.
Maybe I am turning into Lognion.
His dark thoughts were interrupted when an urgent messenger was ushered in to see him. It was the first rider of the day bearing news of the First and Third Divisions. It wasn’t good.
The missive had been written by Sub-Marshal Nicht of the First Division, which in itself was a bad sign.
Marshal,
I regret to inform you that First Division has met with disaster, losing close to fifty percent of our men during an ambush yesterday afternoon. Sub-Marshal Spry was killed and Field Marshal Lustral is currently unconscious, so in the meantime I have assumed joint command of the two divisions. Third Division’s losses were not as severe, but they still sustained close to twenty percent casualties.
As to the circumstances. Sub-Marshal Spry counseled withdrawal to Klendon, based on your last recommendations as well as the scouting reports that indicated a greater force was in the area, but Field Marshal Lustral insisted on advancing instead. His theory was that a retreat was expected while an advance was not. I myself did not agree with this, but the field marshal insisted that this would catch the Darrowans off-guard.
They were ready for us.
Caught close to dusk, as we were about to make camp, First Division was surrounded on three sides, forcing us to retreat in the direction of Third, causing a great deal of chaos and confusion in the ranks. A reserve force that was completely unknown to us then stopped Third Division, preventing them from moving.
Thus caught and disordered, the enemy corralled us like sheep for the slaughter. If not for Lord Spry’s heroic efforts in breaking through to the rear, the complete rout and humiliation of both the First and Third Divisions would have been all but assured. It is with great regret that I inform you of Lord Spry’s passing, for he died a hero.
At present we are retreating toward Klendon, but I have no doubt the enemy will seek to capitalize on our current weakness. With the number of