Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

A shadow passed over the adept's face as he bent down to the fire. “The enemy commander was very strong in the Art.”

Josey knelt beside him. The heat felt wondrous on her hands and face. “Stronger than you?”

“It's difficult to say. His sorcery had no structure, no internal logic that I could fathom.”

“But you can defeat him, right?”

“I don't know, lass. Perhaps I could devise a way, with time.”

Something we don't have.

Josey breathed into her hands as she looked around the camp. Woodsmen stood and sat wrapped in fur cloaks, looking cold and a little malnourished, and nothing like the fearsome troops that had routed her army.

Captain Drathan and Brian came over to the fire. “Majesty,” Brian whispered. “We have a plan. If we can get you onto my horse, your men and I will handle the guards and-”

“No,” she cut him off. “No one else is going to risk their life for me.”

“Majesty!” Captain Drathan's mouth hung open. “Your safety is our only priority. These men are dangerous.”

“These are the Eregoths my father feared,” Brian said. “Savages more practiced at rape and pillage than warfare. There's no telling what they are capable of.”

Josey shook her head. “I said no. Now swear to me you won't do anything without my permission.”

Captain Drathan frowned, but he jerked his chin up and down in a firm nod. Brian just looked at her. Josey stared back. “Swear it, or leave my service now.”

“I swear,” Brian said, his lips drawn back in a thin line.

A guardsman hissed, and Josey stood up as Keegan approached with a few of his men. “My lady,” the young man said. “Will you come with me?”

Captain Drathan started to intercede, with Brian right behind him, but Josey held out a hand. “No. It's all right.”

She followed the enemy leader away from the fire. A tall man in rawhide pants and vest brought them steaming cups. Josey accepted without asking what it was. The smell rising from the steam was horrible, but she didn't care. Just wrapping her fingers around the hot cup was a blessing.

Keegan watched her while he took a sip. His nose was a trifle too thin and pointed at the end. The bristles of new beard growth hid a soft chin, lending him the look of a young wolf. The pink half-moon scar carved into his left cheek was recent. “It's mulled mead.”

Josey nodded and took a sip. The drink was actually quite good with a strong taste of honey, and it warmed her insides.

“Your war leader made a mistake,” he said. “Offering battle like that. You didn't have the numbers.”

“How astute.” Josey allowed herself to glare, just a little. “You named yourself high captain of Eregoth, but the last I heard that land was ruled by a duke. Please don't tell me I've been captured by some upstart tribal chieftain's son with dreams of grandeur.”

The youth drained his cup and set it aside. “Duke Erric is dead. Eregoth is free once more, no longer in thrall to the Eviskines, nor to her Nimean overlords of old.”

“Is that why you've invaded my country? To wreak vengeance on your old masters?”

Now it was his turn to frown. “We're no invaders. We've come for the Thunder Lord.”

“Who?”

“The one who bears this symbol.” He dug into his jacket and pulled out a scrap of black cloth. A fist holding a lightning bolt was stitched into the fabric. “He's a northern warlord named Talus. Some say he's a sorcerer, and I believe it, too, after what I've seen.”

Josey recalled the battle, the explosions tearing out huge chunks of the earth, littering the field with corpses and flying stones. “What are you trying to tell me? That you've come all this way, trespassing on my country, to attack the northerners that just crushed my army with…” She gestured around the clearing. The Eregoths numbered fifty at most. “Just these few?”

Keegan put away the bit of fabric. “There's more of us around. We keep separated to make our camps harder to find.”

Josey fought the impulse to nod. It was smart thinking. An army, while stronger on the field, wasn't as nimble as a small raiding party like this. “Why? Why risk your lives to help us?”

“We're not here to help you. We've come to avenge our dead. The Thunder Lord attacked our homes and killed our people.” He snapped his fingers. “With his army and his magic, he took Liovard in a single night.”

Keegan pointed to the men around the camp. “These, and a few patrols, are all that remain of my warriors. We escaped the slaughter and hid to lick our wounds. But we are good at lying low. When the Uthenorians left the city, we followed. All these leagues south we've been nipping at their heels. Striking at their flanks. Burning their supply wagons. We cannot meet the Thunder Lord in open battle, as you tried to do, but every time he swats at us, we melt away to come at him another way.”

Josey considered that. If she had more men and enough horses, they could do the same thing, but on a larger scale. Tears threatened to form as she thought of all the people who had died. I should have known better. I should have overruled Argentus. Those men could still be alive today.

He interrupted her thoughts. “You are truly the Empress?”

Josey wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yes. For now, at least. I thought you were part of the invading army. Scouts, maybe. I don't know. But it doesn't matter. When this warlord-Talus-reaches Othir, it will be too late.”

Keegan's brow furrowed into thin creases. “A man once told me I could trust the Empress of Nimea. He said she had a good heart.”

Josey wanted to laugh to dispel the pain in her chest. “I'm sorry. I don't think I know anyone from Eregoth.”

“He wasn't from Eregoth. I mean, he was, but he hadn't lived there in a long time. But he came back to-well, I shouldn't be telling his business. But he was a good man despite his rather ill look-”

Hope fluttered in Josey's stomach as she listened to the youth's rambling explanation. She didn't dare to believe it, but perhaps. Just perhaps. “What was his name?”

“Caim Du'Vartha.”

Josey stared for several breaths, unable to believe it.

“You know of him, my lady?”

She laughed and threw the contents of her cup into the fire. The liquid hissed and made a cloud of steam. She looked over to Drathan and Brian, who watched her with startled expressions. “Caim's alive!” she shouted.

Josey moved around the fire pit and took Keegan's hand. “He is, isn't he? Alive?”

His eyes had gone as wide as double-weight golden royals. “Yes. Well, he was when I last saw. He left us after the battle. The first battle, that is.” He paused, and his voice thickened. “He saved us, my lady. He saved us all.”

Josey wanted to sing. “He's good at that. Please, tell me everything. Every detail!”

While the night fled and the sun rose from behind the trees, Josey listened to the tale of Caim's involvement in Eregoth's war of independence. The whole time, she wanted to pinch herself. Caim was alive.

“Where is he now?” she asked when Keegan had finished telling about the sacking of the duke's keep in Liovard.

“He went north the day after we won our freedom. Following some fool quest.” Keegan lifted his open hands. “He could have been duke. He could have called himself a king for all we cared. But he left, and took three of my best warriors with him. He could be all the way into the northern wastes by now.”

Still chasing after his mother's ghost. Caim, if you get yourself killed before I can reach you, I'll…I'll… She laughed to herself. He was safe. She knew it in her heart. Oh, gods. Or Holy Prophet. Whoever rules the heavens, I thank you for this.