David Coe - The Dark-Eyes War

"You're right," Besh said.

The younger man seemed surprised by this. After a moment he nodded once and then walked away.

Besh remained where he was, staring out over the plain, watching as the last of the small grass fires burned themselves out. He wanted to weep, but he didn't allow himself that release. Cresenne and Sirj were right: People were going to die this night no matter what. Better the J'Balanar raiders than them.

But a part of him couldn't help wishing that he'd never left Kirayde.

After the hunt, the warriors and their a'laqs enjoyed a feast of all the rilda that Grinsa and the other hunters had killed. Grinsa made a point of sitting with E'Menua, Q'Daer, L'Norr, and the warriors from E'Menua's sept, though he would have preferred to sup with O'Tal and his men. He also apologized to E'Menua for hunting with O'Tal rather than with Q'Daer.

"I didn't realize I was expected to hunt with the men from our sept, A'Laq," he said as they ate. "O'Tal invited me to hunt and I thought it would be all right if I hunted with him. I meant no offense."

E'Menua still appeared to be sulking, but he waved off Grinsa's apology. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I wasn't offended."

Grinsa wasn't sure he believed this, but he kept his doubts to himself. "You and O'Tal are rivals," he said instead.

The a'laq's eyes narrowed, giving his face a feral look. "Is that what he told you?"

"I just gathered as much from the way the two of you spoke to each other."

Again E'Menua dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "I care little about him one way or another. He's a pup. A few years from now he might be a worthy rival to me, but for now he doesn't have enough hunts under his belt or Weavers in his sept to be of consequence."

For several moments they ate, saying nothing. The rilda was delicious-the best meat he'd ever had. He still hoped to leave the Fal'Borna and make a life for himself and his family somewhere else in the Southlands, but he couldn't deny that he would miss rilda meat. Dried and salted, or fresh like this, he couldn't imagine growing tired of it.

"Q'Daer says you hunted well," E'Menua said, finally breaking the silence.

Grinsa glanced past the a'laq to the young Weaver, who sat beside E'Menua on the a'laq's right. He was chewing and grinning back at Grinsa. "Q'Daer is being generous, A'Laq. I brought down the doe I was hunting, but another hunter had to kill her for me."

"You brought her down while you were riding?" E'Menua asked.

"Yes."

"And you didn't fall from your horse?"

Grinsa smiled in spite of himself, remembering how close he had come to being unhorsed. "No, I didn't fall, though I almost did."

The a'laq nodded. "For a stranger to these lands on his first hunt, that's nothing to be ashamed of."

It might well have been the kindest thing E'Menua had ever said to him. "Thank you, A'Laq."

They lapsed into silence once more. E'Menua ate but seemed distracted, his gaze continually sweeping over the gathering. Grinsa knew that he'd been unhappy when he and his army first joined O'Tal's and H'Loryn's. E'Menua had expected there to be more warriors and Weavers at this meeting place-six or seven septs' worth. But no new a'laqs had joined them. They had perhaps four hundred warriors to face an Eandi army that some had said consisted of ten times that many men.

"Do you think they're coming?" Grinsa finally asked him, drawing E'Menua's gaze. "The other a'laqs you were expecting, I mean."

"I don't know," the man said, lowering his voice. "It may be that others suffered J'Sor's fate, but had no one to cure them. Or it may be that they're on their way and will be here in the next day or two. I hope to hear from P'Rhil or S'Bahn tonight. I want to know where they are and whether they've found the dark-eye army yet. It may be that we won't need other septs to finish the war. But we won't know until we hear from those who rode north."

They finished eating their meal, though Grinsa could have stopped far earlier and been sated. He was glad that they probably wouldn't have to battle the Eandi come morning, because with all that the men had eaten, he couldn't imagine any of them would be in much condition to fight. E'Menua rose and suggested that all of them get some sleep, and then he went off to do just that.

Grinsa thought about staying awake so that he could walk in Cresenne's dreams and speak with her, but he really had nothing to tell her, and he knew that contacting her in this way left her exhausted the following morning. He found his sleeping roll and blankets, laid them out on the cold ground, and was soon asleep.

He awoke early the next morning to grey skies and a light snow. After stowing his blankets and roll, he went in search of the a'laq, certain that E'Menua would have expected no less of him. He found the a'laq speaking with Q'Daer, L'Norr, and the other two sept leaders. E'Menua seemed in a darker mood than he had been in the night before and barely acknowledged Grinsa as the Forelander joined their small circle.

"They probably haven't fought the Eandi yet," H'Loryn was saying. "As soon as they do, they'll reach for one of us. You know they will."

E'Menua nodded vaguely but said nothing.

"You think they've fought them already and lost," O'Tal said.

"I don't know what to think," E'Menua said. "I only got here yesterday, so you know better than I do how many warriors and Weavers they had, and how soon they thought they'd reach the Horn. I I…" He shrugged. "I have a bad feeling. That's all."

"Maybe we should head to the Horn now, then," Grinsa said.

The others looked at him, their expressions revealing little other than surprise at the fact that he had spoken.

After a brief, uncomfortable silence, H'Loryn said, "We're supposed to wait here for warriors from other septs."

"Yes, I know, A'Laq," Grinsa answered, trying to keep his tone respectful. "But won't any army, even one this size, do more good reaching the Horn in a timely way than a larger force would if they arrived too late?"

O'Tal and E'Menua shared a look. For once they appeared to be in agreement.

"He raises a good point, H'Loryn," O'Tal said.

E'Menua added, "We can reach for the Weavers who are supposed to join us here, and tell them where we've gone. But I'd feel better knowing that we're doing something, even if it is just riding north."

H'Loryn looked scared, as if he didn't wish to admit the possibility that something had gone wrong with the army that had already ridden to the Horn. But at last he nodded his agreement. "Yes, all right."

E'Menua looked at his Weavers, including Grinsa. "Ready the men. I don't want to linger here any longer than we have to."

"Yes, A'Laq," Q'Daer said.

Grinsa started to follow the younger Weavers, but E'Menua caught his eye. "Thank you," he said.

The Forelander merely nodded, and hurried after the others.

It was a small force, and the Fal'Borna warriors responded to orders with alacrity. It seemed only moments before the men were astride their horses, thundering northward. They rode hard throughout the day, pausing only long enough to eat and drink a bit and keep their horses fresh.

By the time they camped for the night, Grinsa was stiff and sore and wearier than he had been at any time since leaving the Forelands. He ate a small supper, the feast of the night before seeming a distant memory, and then lay down to sleep. Many in the army camp remained active, but Grinsa fell asleep almost at once.

He was awakened some time later when someone gently shook his shoulder.

"Forelander. Forelander, wake up."

Grinsa opened his eyes. It was dark still, though a fire burned low nearby. E'Menua squatted beside him, his tapered face in shadow.