Road, but the marker was west of it, in the wide-open plains that stretched all the way to the Foothills and the border of Ferro. It was prime farming land, and the fruits of those fields traveled both north into the rocky, mountainous region of Pyra and south into the empire.
And they were going to burn it to the ground.
There wasn’t a town or settlement there, but the farmers and herders who worked those fields and tended those animals lived in scattered houses that dotted the landscape. There were probably hundreds of people working those lands, while the landowners lived comfortably in a big house in Runnet. They would be safe behind the village’s stone walls, and the simple folk who worked the land would be slaughtered.
People just like Sev’s parents.
“If you take the road or travel too near Runnet, you’ll be seen,” Sev said, keeping his voice flat and neutral. He lifted his cup again—finding someone had refilled it—and took several long drafts to steady his nerves. The alcohol was starting to get to him now, making the edges of his vision go soft and hazy as candlelight, but his hands were steady as he traced an alternate route across the paper. “But if we go north before we cut back west, then travel through these trees,” he said, “we’ll come out on their northern side. If they’re expecting trouble, they’ll expect it from the south.”
The route would take them right past the place Sev had come across Veronyka and her phoenix. He only knew it was a path they could take thanks to the short side journey he’d taken with Kade and a dozen other soldiers to purchase pack animals from Belden’s llama breeder. But while it would certainly hide their attack, it would also slow them down. Even if Sev sent the pigeon out tonight, the Riders and unsuspecting farmers could use all the extra time he could get them.
Dill stared at the map, then at Sev, then at the map again. He pointed at the trees. “They look too dense for horses.”
“They’re not,” Sev said. “I took that same route with a llama train. They cut across the ground easily enough.”
“It will take us longer…,” Dill mused, scratching at the scruff on his chin.
“But they won’t see us coming,” Sev said, hating himself. What if something went wrong and his surprise strategy succeeded in catching the farmers completely unaware? He would have then aided in their slaughter rather than prevented it.
Dill considered his words, then nodded. “Yes, yes—a worthy trade-off. I knew you’d come in handy!” he shouted, and several soldiers next to Sev slapped him on the back and ruffled his hair. “Lee,” Dill said, turning to the man who’d filled his cup, “see to the preparations.”
Lee nodded, and that was it. More ale was poured, more jokes were made, but Sev was not dismissed.
In fact, they even toasted him once or twice. They also raised their cups to victory and success and whatever else they could think of, leaving Sev no choice but to raise his cup too. He needed to remain inside this tent—now and in the future—so he needed them to like him, to think he was valuable, even as he hated them and everything they were doing.
The tent soon devolved into the atmosphere of a pub or a cookhouse. Some of the soldiers were quite deep into their cups, chins drooping onto chests or voices raised loudly as they debated this fact or that. Every time Sev tried to finish his drink and leave, someone had filled it again, or traded his mug for a new one. Whenever someone looked his way, he forced himself to smile, to be easy and carefree, though he felt anything but.
Finally, when the man next to Sev actually fell asleep with his forehead on the table, he took it as his cue to leave.
Though he’d felt level enough sitting down, once Sev got to his feet, the drink began to catch up to him. He managed to exit the tent without stumbling or veering off course, but the walk back to his temporary lodgings was another story. He forgot where it was at first, walking several steps in the wrong direction before looping back around. He passed other soldiers but didn’t stop to talk or make eye contact. All he wanted was to close his eyes and lay flat out on his bedroll.
How had Trix done this for so long? How had she smiled and