5.Death of Chaos
LXII
South of Hrisbarg, Freetown [Candar]
As THE SKY lightens, the Duke watches the far hillside, but the balloon does not rise with the dawn, nor does the smoke from the Freetown cookfires. Only a handful of cyan banners drop in the still air. No fog created by the breath of troops wreathes the hill from where the Freetown cannon had fired their deadly shots the day before.
“Scouts!” demands Berfir, pushing his mount to the crest of the hill, from where he can survey the Freetown position.
“Ser?” asks the stocky officer who rides up beside him.
“Colaris's forces have abandoned their position. That's what it looks like.”
“Why would they do that?”
Berfir nods grimly, his eyes flicking back to his own most recent trenchworks, the thin lines of red-clad troops-and the rows of mounds 'that lie on the downside of the hill. “I don't know. The cannon are gone.” He gestures. “It looks like they even left supplies, and if that's so...”
“I understand, ser.” The stocky man salutes.
“We may reach Freetown yet.”
“If they don't have those demon-damned long guns, ser...”
“Or if we can overtake them and capture them,” suggests the Duke.
“Wouldn't mind having a few, ser, long as they're pointed away from us.”
Berfir's laugh dies away as he purses his lips, studying the seemingly empty Freetown position. “Why... ?”
The scout officer waits.
“Check if it's clear to take their position-and those supplies. Then we'll see... then we'll see.” He fingers his salt - and - pepper beard, before his fingers go to the captured pistol at his belt. “We'll see...”