“Should do thirty miles or more a day on this,” Count Marven said with a satisfied grin, stamping a boot to the brick surface. “More when the rain lifts.”
“Be sure to scout all approaches,” Lyrna said. She was reluctant to tell her Battle Lord his business but Al Hestian’s counsel had instilled a lingering caution. They were certain to meet the enemy somewhere along this road; the only question was in what strength.
“Of course, Highness.”
The rain finally began to abate three days later, revealing a pleasing landscape of rolling hills and broad valleys, lush with grass and little sign of habitation save the occasional small villa, all of which proved empty of occupants.
“All livestock slaughtered and crops burnt,” Brother Sollis reported two days later. He had led his brothers on a wide-ranging reconnaissance in force, finding no sign of the enemy but ample evidence their approach had been detected. “All wells spoiled with carcasses. A few bodies here and there, mostly old people, slaves by the look of them.”
“Was there ever a more vile race than this?” Lord Adal said, shaking his head. He had taken the North Guard south on a similar mission, returning with equally grim tidings.
“So,” Lyrna said, “we have no forage.”
“Our existing supplies should last us to Volar, Highness,” Brother Hollun advised. “Where no doubt we will find more, once our . . . business is concluded.”
“If I might enquire, Highness,” Lord Nortah said, “as to the exact nature of our business in Volar.”
Lyrna met his gaze, finding his usual willingness to return the scrutiny in full measure. “We will exact justice for the wrongs visited upon the Realm,” she said. “And ensure they will not be repeated.”
“Yes, as you have stated before. However, I should like to know how this justice will be administered. Do you intend to hold trials, perhaps?”
“I don’t recall any trials at Alltor,” Lord Antesh said, regarding the Lord Marshal with a harsh glower. “And I know there were none at Varinshold.” He rarely spoke at council and kept to his own troops when on the march. The Cumbraelins had taken on a uniformly grim demeanour since the loss of Lady Reva, along with her aged guard commander and so many of their countrymen. Whenever she toured their ranks Lyrna found herself greeted with curt nods or barely concealed resentment; she had sent their Blessed Lady to her death, and they knew it. However, any anger they might have felt towards their queen was greatly outshone by their burning hatred for the Volarians, birthed at Alltor and a thousand other nameless atrocities, now stoked to greater heights by a feral hunger for retribution. Lady Reva had been their link to the Father’s love and guidance, surely He would bless all efforts to avenge her passing.
“There were no trials at Alltor,” Lord Nortah returned, “because the Volarians are a disgusting, pestilent race raised in cruelty and murder. We, on the other hand, imagine ourselves a people of reason and compassion, or are our virtues to be cast aside now?”
“Courage and fortitude are equal virtues,” Baron Banders pointed out. “Our people look to us to secure their future. It won’t be done with a soft heart.”
“I have journeyed the length of the Reaches and the Realm,” Nortah said. “Taking more lives in the space of a few months than I did in all my years in the Order. I have led my regiment through battle, fire and hardship because I thought it just and right . . . and my wife told me it was necessary. But I do not wish to look into her eyes when she beholds a man who took part in wholesale murder.”
He turned to Aspect Caenis, whose eyes remained fixed on the map, unwilling to meet his brother’s gaze. “And you, brother? Are you content for the Faith to be stained with innocent blood?”
The Aspect didn’t reply immediately, lowering his head for a moment’s silent contemplation. When he finally opened his eyes and spoke, his tone was regretful but also certain. “The Empress and her empire are merely tools for a greater enemy. We all know this, though often we dare not speak of it. Knowing the nature of this enemy, I see the only path to his defeat in employing all measures at our disposal. If that makes us murderers, then I accept the name and the guilt. For if we fail, brother, there will be no wife for you to return to.”
“I cannot believe the path to victory lies in staining our souls so black we become indistinguishable from those we fight.” Nortah looked to Brother Sollis, voice strained now. “Master? Surely you see the Faith compels us to a more reasoned course. The Order has always sought to defend the defenceless.”
“And to preserve the Faithful,” Sollis replied, his tone no less certain than the Aspect’s. “Should we fail here, the whole world may fall to ruin. The Faith gave its support to the queen’s course in full knowledge of the import of this mission. We cannot afford virtue now, brother.”