Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,55
the course of the war. Normally Piper would take the time to investigate but time was the one element he lacked. Whatever time the combined army thought they had was slipping faster than sands in the hourglass.
“Sergeant, take this…what is your name, soldier?”
The prisoner stiffened. A measure of pride returned to his slightly broken form. “Fenn, sir. I be from Stouds.”
“Very good, master Fenn. Sergeant, take Fenn to General Rolnir. He needs to know who it is we now face,” Piper ordered.
Saluting crisply, the sergeant gestured for Fenn to head towards the gate. It was a long ride to catch up to the rest of the army.
* * * * *
Endless leagues of snow-covered fields and ice-covered streams rolled beneath the boots and hooves of the combined army. Rolnir pushed his force as hard as he dared. Man and beast were already close to their breaking points. As proud as he was of his army--though arguably it wasn’t entirely his--he knew he couldn’t keep them on the move forever. At some point they were going to have to rest longer than a few hours. Frowning in thought, Rolnir made his decision. The ruins of Arlevon Gale were still close to forty leagues away. The Wolfsreik general would lose half his combat effectiveness if he didn’t halt now. He rationalized it by recalling an army needed an operational pause before advancing on the final objective.
Word passed through the column and the pace slowed to nothing. Soldiers busied setting up tents, establishing the perimeter, and foraging for any live game to bulk up their evening meal. Dried rations and hard tack only went so far. Rolnir made his rounds without complaint. His lower back screamed for relief and he had a headache deep within his skull. Partially dehydrated and stomach growling, the Wolfsreik general refused to take care of his personal needs until after all of his troops were seen to. He was only as important as the lowliest soldier. They either made him successful or mired his legacy with failure.
The sun was already dipping below the horizon by the time he ambled back to his tent. A previous order kept his official command tent from being erected. Long marches in the field demanded efficiency, not decadence. He lived as a regular soldier would, but not without a few privileges of rank. Candles and the occasional bit of Rogscroft chocolate filled his saddlebags. He could do without the sweets, but needed candles to finish correspondence late into the night.
The sudden commotion outside his tent forced him to slide back into sweaty boots and don his travel cloak. What he saw was the last thing he might have expected. The lone sergeant saluting him had a steady grip on a ragged-looking soldier beside him.
“What is this?” Rolnir asked, returning the salute.
“General, this prisoner informed us King Badron has returned. More, he also has information concerning the location of the enemy’s main bivouac site.”
Rolnir felt true hope for the first time since reentering Delranan.
FIFTEEN
A Dream Unrealized
Badron glared hotly at the roughly two thousand conscripted civilians assembled before him. Soldiers had worked to construct a platform for him to stand on for his address, reaffirming the king’s dominance in Delranan. The rabble staring back didn’t make him feel kingly. They were the bottom of the barrel, unfit to serve as retainers in the baggage trains. But they were all he had left. Delranan was picked clean of military-age males. Badron was going to have to fight with what he had, not what he needed.
“Whatever happened while I was gone is the past,” he began slowly. “Harnin One Eye is dead and once again I am the rightful ruler of Delranan. Any who wish to deny my birthright may attempt to do so now.”
None moved. Soldiers armed with wicked-looking spears hovered just behind them, ready to strike down any dissenter.
“We are at war. Not against enemies of state or neighboring kingdoms, but against our own kind. General Rolnir and the Wolfsreik have betrayed us. They have stormed back to destroy all you have struggled for. Rolnir is a ruthless foe, cunning and deceptive. He won’t stop until the crown is placed upon his brow. Will you suffer his rule in chains? Your wives will be sold for whores. Your sons enslaved for his personal whim. Death will be your only release.
“I offer each of you the opportunity to save your families. To save your lives. I’m also not giving you a choice. I may be the