A Plague of Giants (Seven Kennings #1) - Kevin Hearne Page 0,195

of Bechlan did, long ago. It was that thought and the thought of seeing all these people in front of me dead that broke through the shock and let me imagine what horrors must lie outside our city, which had been safe for so long. Tears escaped my eyes and dropped to the earth, emotion honoring the poet goddess.

When the bard finished speaking to the city, the temblor had me climb the steps to the garrison tower, where we found the bard waiting. Her name was Laera, and she’d been the only bard in Baseld since I’d moved there.

“Temblor, I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

“My thanks. Can you project my voice to just the garrison, please?”

“Certainly.”

Priyit first called everyone to assemble in the training ground, and while that happened another temblor joined us, an older man I think Gaerit didn’t particularly like. But it was Priyit who spoke once the soldiers had mustered. “May the Huntress bless you all today. Half of the garrison will go with me into the tunnel as soon as possible to stop the Bone Giants before they get here. The other half shall remain here under command of Temblor Maerton to defend the city should we fail, provide a rear guard as citizens evacuate, and keep order in the meantime among a frightened populace. Neither duty is enviable or glorious, but they are both necessary. May I have volunteers to go into the tunnel?”

Every single soldier in the garrison volunteered, so Priyit first picked anyone who had family in Bennelin, including Gaerit, figuring they’d like to get a measure of revenge, and then gestured to the soldiers massed on the eastern side of the training ground and said, “Plus you lot. Armor, shields, and spears. No staves. Fast as you can. We leave in a quarter hour.”

Gaerit and I were able to exchange a glance but not speak in advance of mobilization; we marched toward the Granite Tunnel a half hour after the temblor’s orders, and they armed me, too, in spite of the fact that I hadn’t practiced with weapons since my days in the Colaiste. I found Gaerit and matched pace next to him. His jaw was set like a jagged cliff, and his eyes were dark with the promise of violence.

Trying to lighten his mood, I waggled the shield and spear and said, “I hold these in front of me, right?” He didn’t think it was funny; his expression even registered disgust that I would try to joke right then, and I felt alone and unloved like barren soil. But then I reflected that perhaps this was a mood that shouldn’t be lightened. If ever there was a time for him to feel violent and justified in doing so, it was now. My selfish desire to have one last soft look from him before we met an uncertain future had caused me to open my mouth when it should have stayed shut.

“I’m sorry, Gaerit,” I whispered to him. “I’m just nervous. Fight well for the Huntress. Be safe. I love you.”

I started to lengthen my stride to catch up with the temblor near the front, but Gaerit called me back. The bunched muscles in his jaw relaxed as I waited, looking at him with a question in my brows. His shoulders relaxed, the smooth brown skin stretched over his arms arranging itself into planes I knew well, the way they did when he wasn’t tense.

“Forgive me, Meara,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be curt with you. I’m simply upset about the news. My family…”

“I know, I know. All the things I want to do I can’t do while we’re on the march, so I said something stupid. I’m sorry.”

His mouth slid into a half grin. “We’ll go down to the riverbank later, roll around in the mud, and make love like otters, and we’ll both feel better.” The soldiers near him heard that, eyes shifting and smirks appearing on their faces, but I didn’t care.

“I hope you’re not just saying that, because rolling in the mud is a serious promise.”

“I will keep it. Because I love you, too. Now go march with the temblor. I know you’re supposed to save us all somehow.”

No need for a half grin now: reassured, I beamed at him and scurried forward to join the temblor and caught up with her as the entrance to the Granite Tunnel gaped before us.

It was fretted with the ornate bas-relief sculpture of stonecutters and masons long since past, and