Fallon had need of both in his army. Though he preferred to deal with each separately and not when he had more pressing matters on his mind then their ongoing feud.
“We need to get moving,” Van said without any preliminary conversation. He gave the doors Fallon stood by a look of distaste. “There’s no telling how long these will hold, given how old they probably are. The beasts could break through at any moment. It would be best if we were far from this place when that happens.”
“We can’t leave,” Chirron said, giving the other man a scathing look. “There were many wounded. I need time to stabilize them, or you risk them perishing on the move.”
Van turned to fix Chirron with an exasperated glare. “Chi, we can’t risk these doors breaking. You’ll have way more patients than you can handle at that point. Sometimes you have to make hard choices; this is one of those times.”
Chirron scoffed. “Don’t give me that load of horse dung. There’s been no sign of the doors weakening. There’s no reason not to take the extra time to ensure these men get the care they need.”
“If you and your healers haven’t been able to stabilize them by now, the chances of them surviving this journey are slim,” Van returned, his face drawn into grim lines. “We can’t leave them here nor can we accommodate their pace going into the Highlands.”
“You want me to give them mercy,” Chirron accused.
Van’s expression didn’t lighten or offer quarter. “You do them no favors by prolonging their deaths.”
“I’m not going to do that just so your life can be a little easier,” Chirron hissed.
It was easy to forget that the smaller man had gone through the same training as the rest of the Trateri. The same training that produced some of the best warriors in the Broken Lands. His interests might have turned to healing instead of killing, but in many ways Chirron was just as deadly as any other man in Fallon’s army.
“Enough,” Fallon said, breaking up the brewing fight. He couldn’t afford to have two of his highest officers break into fisticuffs over a disagreement. The blow to morale would be crippling. Not to mention, he had more important things to turn his attention to, like finding Shea, and then finding a way out of here. “How many are beyond even your skills?”
Chirron expression turned stubborn, his mouth turning down and his body tightening as if in preparation for battle.
Fallon gave him a warning look, in no mood to humor his principles.
Chirron relaxed, his expression smoothing out, though some of his unhappiness showed. “Three are in a bad way. I am not sure they will survive until sunset.”
“And the rest?”
“Two might pull through, if given adequate rest and care. The rest have minor injuries that, if treated immediately, shouldn’t pose a risk to their health as long as they keep the wounds from getting infected.”
“Offer mercy to the three. If they choose not to take it, we’ll give them a week’s worth of rations and water and find them a place with decent cover to remain. Stabilize the rest. We’ll leave as soon as that’s done.” To appease Van, Fallon told Zeph, “Gather several men and have them stand watch at these doors. At the first sign that they’re failing, we’ll leave, regardless of whether the injured are ready or not.”
Seeing his Anateri approaching with Reece in tow, he dismissed the other men and summoned Caden and Braden with a flick of his hand.
“Where is she?” Fallon didn’t waste any time cutting to the heart of the matter.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Fallon said. He was ready to rip this man’s head from his shoulders. “She opened your damn caverns. She should be here, so where is she?”
“I’m sure she’ll be here. She’s probably just delayed.” Reece didn’t look too concerned about Shea’s fate. A fact that had Fallon clenching his hands to keep from attacking the other man. He still had need for Reece, which was the only thing that saved him. “We should get going as soon as possible. I’m sure she’ll catch up when she’s able.”
“We’re not going anywhere until I know she’s safe.” He took a step closer to Reece. “You’d better pray she survived, or this trip and your life are going to be very short.”
Reece sighed. “I’m growing weary of all of these threats.”
“Are you now?” Had Shea been here, she could have told Reece that the amusement on Fallon’s face was a dangerous sign. She wasn’t here, so her warning went unspoken.
“If you’d planned to kill me, you would have done it by now.”
Fallon’s hand landed around Reece’s neck. He squeezed, relishing the gurgling sound the pathfinder made. “Perhaps I should make good on some of my threats then. Since you are so weary of them, of course.”
Reece’s voice came out in a babble, not making much sound.
Fallon drew him forward, turning his ear towards Reece. He shook his head. “Nope, sorry, I’m afraid I still can’t hear you.”
Fallon released him. Reece staggered back, his hand to his throat as he glared. Fallon regarded him with amusement. The pathfinder looked like a stray pup debating whether to go for its master’s throat. Fallon almost wished he would. It would give him pleasure to put the pup down.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Reece croaked.
Fallon didn’t respond, knowing silence was sometimes the best weapon.
“I’m going to remember this,” Reece said.
“We hope you do,” Caden said, amusement on his face and in his voice as he walked up. “Perhaps it will serve as a reminder not to antagonize the Warlord.”
“Now that we’ve established that my threats contain some bite, perhaps you would care to share your theories on what might have happened to Shea.” Fallon’s voice was silky. His time playing with this man was almost at an end. If he didn’t learn what he needed to know, he’d be all too happy to kill him.
“I don’t know. She should be here.” It was a bold thing to admit, given how clearly Fallon had demonstrated his feelings for the other man. It almost made him respectable. Almost.
Witt’s presence behind Reece drew Fallon’s attention. “Warlord, you’re going to want to see this.”
Fallon cocked his head as he considered the other man. He hoped for Witt’s sake, that he’d interrupted for a good reason, and not just some misbegotten assumption that he could redirect Fallon’s wrath.
Fallon headed for Witt, telling his men, “Bring him.”
They followed Witt into the gloom, the torch he held the only light revealing their way.