Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,87
crowd. No matter how many times he was forced to endure the personal loss, Rolnir doubted he’d ever get used to it. War might have been a natural state of affairs in the world but it left hollowed-out shells in the survivors.
Aurec caught that faraway look and immediately felt the attraction. He too knew what it meant to lose. Unlike Rolnir, the young king lacked years of experience. That fact didn’t diminish his emotions. Aurec had lost count of how many graves he’d helped take a shovel to since the winter war began. How many more awaited them?
“That drink is going to have to wait. Best not to tell the soldiers yet. I need them focused on the war, not the aftermath,” Rolnir finally said with a sigh. “How soon do you want to be on the march?”
“The scouts just left. We should give them a few hours’ head start. If our suspicions are true it would be nice to have time to react accordingly.”
Rolnir nodded agreement. “We’re entering the tricky stage of the campaign. Caution and prudence should be our weapons of choice at this juncture.”
“Indeed, but unfortunately time disagrees with you. Let’s get them up and moving. Arlevon Gale awaits us,” Aurec said.
“I pray that’s all,” Rolnir added.
The young king couldn’t have agreed more.
* * * * *
They’d scouted half of the northern kingdoms over the past six months, often riding behind enemy lines in extremely dangerous situations. Mahn reckoned they should have been captured or killed no less than eight times, not counting the siege of Rogscroft. Blind luck and no small amount of skill saved them. At least it had until now. Mahn harbored no illusions that the task his king had given him was in any way minor or easy. He’d been around long enough to recognize danger without getting cast into it.
Aurec was hiding information that might be useful. Mahn was certain. There was something nefarious going on in the ruins, but what? The destruction of the enemy bivouac site reduced Badron’s fighting strength considerably, prompting Mahn to wonder just how large of an army they were facing. The longer the war dragged on the more suspicious the veteran scout became. He’d give his life for Aurec or any of the others but wanted to know it was for the right reasons. Suicide was foolish.
The ruins of Arlevon Gale were said to be haunted by more than ghosts. Mahn knew next to nothing about them, though the pair of Delrananian scouts accompanying them spoke with extreme caution. Better had died for less and the sons of Delranan were no fools. They deflected Mahn’s questions, mostly, and tried to focus on their mission. Mahn couldn’t argue with them. After all, soldiers were expected to follow orders. They went to the ruins because their general told them to.
“How much further? It’s so dark I can barely see in front of my horse,” Mahn whispered.
The lead Delrananian scout squinted to try and get a better look at their surroundings. “Not much. We should be coming up on them once we clear the trees.”
“Good. This place gives me a bad feeling.” Raste’s voice was low, anxious.
Mahn seconded the emotion. He felt a thousand pair of eyes watching. Each time he turned the feeling shifted. Always fluid, he couldn’t pin down the location the feeling stemmed from. Without proof, he couldn’t bring it before the others, not without sounding like a witless old timer. He bit his tongue, keeping those suspicions to himself while his hand crept closer to his sword.
The scouts felt a weight slip away as the darkness began to brighten. The trees spread out, growing thinner. Fresh sounds came to the four. Shovels and hammers. Torchlight broke the wall of night. The scouts halted in place. Foul speech could be heard over the sounds of forced labor. The foul speech of Goblins. Whips cracked.
“Mahn, no,” Raste cautioned as the older scout slid from his saddle.
Mahn waved off his concern and crept closer to get a better view. He danced between trees, edging ever closer to the tree line. His heart was wedged in his throat. No stranger to Goblins, Mahn thought those troubles were over after the ambush at the base of the Murdes Mountains where the Wolfsreik turned and helped destroy the Goblin occupation army. He never imagined encountering more in Delranan.
He used the trees and large bushes for cover until reaching the very edge of the forest. Close to one hundred meters had been