“I haven’t agreed . . .”
“Miro,” Beorn interrupted. “Listen to me. There’s no other way. We’ve talked about this. It’s a lord marshal’s duty to speak the truth when it needs to be told, and I’m speaking it now. We must evacuate the last people from the free cities. Then we need to burn them.”
“How can I tell the leaders of Castlemere and Schalberg we need to destroy their cities?”
“Let me tell them,” Beorn said. He gripped Miro’s shoulder. “It doesn’t always have to be you, Miro, who must tell the awful truth.”
“Is there no other way?”
“You know there isn’t.”
“Lord of the Sky.” Miro muttered. “What a thing to have to tell someone.”
“They knew it might come to this,” Beorn said.
Miro sighed and nodded to Beorn. The two men walked back to the wall, and Miro found a courier.
“Summon Councilor Marcel of Castlemere and Councilor Lauren of Schalberg,” Miro said.
He gazed out at the city of Castlemere as he waited. The killing ground extended ahead of him as far as the feeble city walls.
“Yes, High Lord?” a tall man spoke in a guttural accent. Beside him an attractive woman waited anxiously.
“Councilors,” Miro said. “The naval engagement is lost. The brave men of Veldria and House Buchalantas took many of the enemy with them, but it is now time to put into action the next part of the plan. You know this is what we agreed to do. Only you can give the order. There is no other option.”
Beorn opened his mouth, but Miro spoke first. “We must burn Castlemere and Schalberg. We can’t give the enemy an easy harbor or a place to fortify. We need them to land on the beaches. We can’t defend your cities, and we can’t leave them standing.”
Beorn glanced at Miro and sighed.
Both Councilors paled. The leaders of the free cities had little experience of war.
“No,” Councilor Lauren said, shaking her head, “I won’t agree to it.”
“Listen to me,” Miro said. “Even if we destroyed your docks but left the rest standing, the enemy would still make landing in your harbors and use your buildings as cover. Your cities are perfect targets—we know our enemy is always eager to find more of the living to add to their numbers, and they will have no desire to be exposed on the beaches. Landing is a time of weakness for them and we need to force them out into the open. Burning the cities will create wreckage, ash, and heat—an environment they won’t want to disembark thousands of revenants into. If we can make them land on the beaches, we can hit them while they’re exposed.”
“We must do this?” Councilor Lauren’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“We must,” Miro said. “I swear to you, by everything I hold dear, if there were another option I would take it.”
“I believe you,” said Councilor Marcel. He slowly released a breath, and then nodded. “Give the order. Burn them.”
The tears now fell from the corners of Councilor Lauren’s eyes. “If we must,” she whispered.
“I promise you, when this is all over, we will rebuild your cities. I swear to you, that you will always be free.”
Councilor Marcel led a weeping Councilor Lauren away.
“You could have let me do that,” Beorn said.
“The responsibility is mine,” Miro said, “though I appreciate it, I really do. Give the order.”
Miro wiped a hand over his face as soldiers ran for Castlemere while another group headed further west in the direction of Schalberg.
“Keep an eye on the coast,” Miro said, “and tell that pilot to keep his dirigible in the sky. We need to know where they plan to land.”
27
Bartolo, Dorian, and the five recruits were all exhausted, but they’d cut the journey to the lands of Altura’s south down to days.
They’d just passed the last signaling tower before Wondhip Pass, seeing the prism shining bright and lustrous. Now the farmland and forests gave way to barren rock, the land gaining a gradual slope as Bartolo stared up at the Elmas, his eye following the winding mountain path that led to the pass. He placed his hands on his knees as he walked uphill, forcing fatigued limbs to continue the harrowing pace.
Bartolo rested briefly, glancing behind him and scanning the faces of his men. With no time to find others, these youths were all he had. He’d thought he might have to leave some of the recruits behind, but they’d stayed with him, even through the last few grueling, climbing miles. They were fit and well trained, but even so, Bartolo wondered if he’d been wise to bring them. If it came to fighting, the recruits had no armor.