David Coe - The Dark-Eyes War

Morning came quickly, and soon the Fal'Borna were riding again. It seemed that word of the other Fal'Borna army's fate had spread through the ranks of the warriors. Only the day before, the men had joked and sang as they rode. Now they made not a sound. Grinsa saw fear in their faces, but also the same iron resolve he'd seen in E'Menua the previous night.

Q'Daer and L'Norr rode next to Grinsa, but they didn't speak to each other or to him. The young Weavers scanned the horizon continually, as if both were eager to be the first to spot the Eandi army. Snow fell intermittently throughout the day. At times it was so heavy that Grinsa could hardly see. At other times it stopped completely and the sun shone through breaks in the clouds, making the light layer of snow on the plain sparkle brilliantly.

They came to the Thraedes late in the day and followed it northward, past the point where the K'Sand joined its flow. They'd reached the Horn; it was just to the west, across the river. But still the riders saw no sign of the Eandi, and when they stopped for the night, the mood in the camp was somber.

It was a cold night, and though it stopped snowing and the skies cleared, a harsh, frigid wind blew out of the north, making it hard to sleep.

With first light they were up and moving again, and before long they found what they'd been seeking.

Q'Daer was the first to notice, and he rose in his saddle to point, a cry on his lips. Snow still covered the ground, but ahead of them a wide swath of grass had been trampled, leaving it dark compared with the rest of the landscape.

Grinsa and the Fal'Borna riders stopped at the edge of the tracks, and the a'laqs and Weavers dismounted to take a closer look. The tracks must have been made by the Eandi. When Grinsa and the others had reached forth with their magic two nights before, there hadn't been nearly enough Qirsi in the area to disturb the land in this way. Add to this the fact that most of the prints they could make out had been made by humans and not horses, and it seemed clear that a vast Eandi army had passed this way on foot.

But Grinsa was struck by the route they seemed to have taken.

"They came from the north," Q'Daer said, sounding as confused as Grinsa felt. "They followed the river. And then they… they turned to the east."

"That's how it looks to me, too," said O'Tal.

E'Menua stared at the tracks, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "It makes no sense. They defeated our army and made it to the river. Why would they turn away from the Horn?"

"Could it be a trick?" H'Loryn asked.

Q'Daer appeared to weigh this. "Perhaps," he said. "A path this wide, made by so many men. With so much of the snow trampled, it's hard to read. I suppose it's possible that they doubled back." He turned to scan the riverbank. "But I see no sign that they crossed the river, at least not near here."

"Then we'll assume that they've turned east," E'Menua said. "We'll follow these tracks as far as they lead us. They're still fairly fresh, and with so many of them on foot, we should catch them before long."

"What if they're retreating?"

Every one of them turned to look at Grinsa.

"Why would they retreat?" O'Tal asked, looking puzzled. "We know from last night that our army has been destroyed. There's nothing to keep them from crossing into the Horn. They'd have no reason to turn back now."

"We don't know how many men they lost," Grinsa answered. He gestured at the trampled ground. "This could have been done by four thousand men. It also could have been done by half that number or fewer. Maybe they defeated the Fal'Borna army, but lost so many that they decided that they couldn't go on."

"What does it matter?" E'Menua asked irritably.

"If they're retreating, we should let them go," Grinsa said. "Particularly if the Mettai have magic that can destroy an entire Qirsi army."

H'Loryn raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other two a'laqs, a hopeful look on his face.

O'Tal caught Grinsa's eye, and shook his head slightly. But it was too late.

"Let them go?" E'Menua said, his voice rising. "Let them go! They invaded our land! They killed hundreds of our warriors! Who knows how many septs they attacked? And you want to let them go?"

"Forgive me, A'Laq," Grinsa said. He felt weak for apologizing, but he knew that he'd been mistaken to speak of retreat in front of everyone. He would have been better off first approaching E'Menua in private. Or better still, O'Tal. Too late for that now.

For his part, E'Menua didn't seem to hear his apology.

"I thought that you finally understood what it meant to be Fal'Borna!" the a'laq was saying. "I thought you were becoming one of us, at long last."

He spat on the ground at Grinsa's feet. "Clearly I was wrong."

The a'laq turned away without another word, walked back to his horse, and swung himself onto the animal's back.

"We follow them east!" he said fiercely, glaring at all of them.

He wheeled his horse away and spurred the beast to a gallop, leaving the rest no choice but to follow.

"I'm sorry," Grinsa said to no one in particular. "This war has already been costly. I just thought perhaps we should consider letting it end. I meant no offense."

None of the others would so much as look at him, except H'Loryn, who seemed even more disappointed than Grinsa felt, and O'Tal, who shook his head ruefully and said, "You should have known better. You've lived among the Fal'Borna for a few turns now. You should have known what he'd say."

O'Tal didn't seem angry with him, as E'Menua had. But he and H'Loryn followed the others, so that Grinsa was left there alone. He climbed back onto his horse and rode after them, knowing he'd been a fool to say what he had.

The a'laq set a grueling pace. It almost seemed that E'Menua wished to punish his entire army for what Grinsa had suggested. They pushed their mounts throughout the day, barely resting. Grinsa had rejoined the other Weavers at the head of the army, though still none of them spoke to him or even acknowledged him. His back and legs ached, and he longed for nightfall so that he could sleep.

The trail left by the Eandi army stretched out before them. It seemed the invaders were still headed due east, toward the Silverwater and the safety of their homeland. Even as the snow began to melt, making the enemy's tracks less apparent, other signs of their passage became more obvious. The grass had been flattened; scraps of food-rinds of cheese, crusts of bread, and bits of dried meat-littered their path. The riders could even see where men had strayed from their course to relieve themselves. There could be little doubt at this point: The Eandi were leaving Fal'Borna land, and it appeared they were in a hurry to do so.

Just let them go! Grinsa wanted to scream. This war is over! Return to your parents, your wives, your children!

But he said nothing, and he rode with the rest of them.

They spotted the rearguard first, perhaps two dozen soldiers, all on horseback. The men were too far ahead for Grinsa and the others to reach with magic, though that didn't stop E'Menua from trying. He used language of beasts first, and when that failed, shaping power. But the Eandi riders had seen the Fal'Borna and were galloping away, no doubt to warn their commanders that the Qirsi riders were coming.

E'Menua signaled a stop, and while the warriors rested, the a'laqs and Weavers gathered to discuss what they should do next. They made room in their circle for Grinsa, but otherwise he might as well have been invisible.

"We're going to do this quickly," E'Menua told them. "I don't want to give them any time to prepare. Our first attacks will be directed at the Mettai. Shaping, fire, even mind-bending if you can manage it. I don't need to tell you that they're the greatest danger. Once they're dead, we can turn our attention to the rest of their army."