Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [176]
“Please!” Eir cried out. “Let him be, I’m begging you. I’ll come, just stop beating him.” She couldn’t bear to think of what else they might do to him.
As the soldiers dragged her away, blades now drawn, she looked back at her lover sprawled on the floor, his hand held out uselessly.
As if nothing had happened, the chancellor continued his speech, intoxicated by his own rhetoric.
“I have taken it upon myself to save our nation from such a perfidious breach of our sacred laws of hospitality. They will go on trial in the morning, and the public will be made fully aware of their attempted acts of terror. I can assure you, we will bring these two evil women to a suitable justice.”
Eir heard these final words as the doors shut behind her.
How could this happen?
Why tonight?
Frightened for her life, the guards that had once protected her now hauled her into the darkness.
CHAPTER 43
THE SOLDIERS HAD LANDED THEIR SHIPS ON THE ICE SOONER THAN BRYND had anticipated. Firm ground was still some way to go, but the ice was so thick here that the horses could be safely unloaded.
The horizon was imperceptible, everything cloaked in all shades of gray and white. At least it wasn’t snowing, nor was there any particular wind. A lucky time to be fighting, if you could see anything good in it.
With the fresh recruits in the Night Guard, and the extra forces of the Dragoons, Empire soldiers rode together at a steady pace toward Tineag’l. The two hundred men and women advanced quickly through communities of refugees carrying their worldly belongings to the farthest fringe of their own territory. These people had barely stepped out of their villages, and now were struggling for a new existence, finding new boundaries to their lives. Brynd dispatched twenty of the Second Dragoons to see that these people got safely to the numerous vessels approaching the perimeter of the ice sheets to collect them.
To save causing them unnecessary alarm, Jurro was requested to proceed at some distance from the oncoming refugees. This he did with good grace, though they could doubtless see his hulking figure some distance off.
Brynd took a brief opportunity to interview some of the refugees, hoping to learn more of the unknown enemy. But most were escaping in advance of rumors rather than as a result of firsthand confrontation. Younger boys had the look of confused-excitement on their faces, and discussed the possibility of the new race, of a rogue army, of Varltungs, of beings from other worlds, of gods. In the absence of fact, his men would have to ascertain for themselves what lay ahead.
For hours they rode on across the desolate island. Empty towns and villages were all that remained, framed by these vacant-looking skies. The wind picked up a little, stirring a fine powder that clouded the air immediately around them. They wrapped scarves around their faces, vision now coming through a slit.
All that Brynd might have learned about the geography was deeply covered with snow now. They could have been traveling in an alien world.
“We’ll keep riding until we find something,” Brynd decided, after being questioned about their current objective. He needed a garuda, but there had been none on standby in Villiren.
Brynd cantered up to the Dawnir who loomed over the men about him. “Is this everything you really wanted, Jurro—the military life, as we know it? Not always the most exciting experience.”
“It is for me. You forget I’ve been staring at the same four walls for so many years. None of the previous Emperors would allow me to leave my confinement.”
“Any of this prompt some memories then?” Brynd said. “Nothing surfacing in that big head of yours?”
“Nothing, I fear, so far.”
“And what’re you hoping to find?”
“Anything will do.”
Now wasn’t the time to be deciphering Jurro’s existential crisis.
Another quarter of an hour, and they were riding north again, and Brynd decided to spread out sections of the First Dragoons east and west, hoping to ascertain if there were any