“The Defenders will keep you prisoner for a time, but I doubt they’ll harm you. And you’ll eat far better there as a prisoner than as a free man on this side of the border. Tell them your religious beliefs prevent you from taking part in any further fighting. The Defenders have little experience with the gods. They should believe you.”
“And what if it is the Hythrun who find us first?”
“Then tell them Zegarnald ordered you to surrender,” she told him impatiently.
“The War God would never —”
“It doesn’t matter, Filip,” she snapped. “Just get your men away. I would rather have you alive and in the custody of the enemy than put to death by Cretin because I ran away. Do this for me and I will see every one of you rewarded when we get back to Fardohnya.”
“As you command, your Highness.” He sounded reluctant, but there was little more she could do. If they chose to disobey her, that was their decision.
She turned sharply at the sound of scuffing feet and was relieved to find Mikel returning with Tam. As the Karien boy watched in amazement, she shed the cloak and tunic to reveal the Fardohnyan costume underneath. Shivering so hard her teeth were chattering, she pulled out the fur-lined cloak and wrapped herself in it with relief. Tam shed her own woollen tunic to reveal a costume almost as decorative and just as flimsy as Adrina’s.
They were
Chapter 30
Adrina’s escape from the Karien camp proved surprisingly easy. The troops were either too stunned or too tired to challenge them, and it was doubtful Cratyn had even thought to post sentries. They rode across the no- man’s land between the camp and the border without incident, chilly starlight illuminating their path.
From a distance, the battlefield looked like a surreal, alien landscape. Dark humps littered the ground as far as the eye could see, as if mad sappers had tunnelled the field, leaving countless mounds of black earth in their wake. It was only as they drew nearer that Adrina realised they were bodies, thousands of them, scattered across the landscape like discarded, broken dolls.
The smell hit them even before they reached the fallen soldiers. The heavy stench of blood and excrement hung in the still air, making her gag. Shadowy figures moved among the corpses. Men looking for fallen companions, camp followers looking for loot, women searching out missing loved ones, grim-faced Defenders seeking dying horses, ending their suffering with a quick sword thrust. Others searched for living bodies, friend and foe alike, for the life they might save or the hostage they might take. Huge bonfires on the far side of the battlefield threw a pall of black smoke over the whole nightmarish vista.
“We’ll have to lead the horses,” Adrina said as they reached they first of the fallen Kariens. “We can’t ride through this.”
Tamylan and Mikel complied silently and they began to pick their way forward, holding cloaks across their faces against the smell. The ground was treacherous, pockmarked with deep holes, dead soldiers and broken horses. There was not a red coat among them. The Defenders had either taken few casualties or their wounded had already been removed.
The battlefield covered a vast area. As they doggedly trudged on, hour after hour, Adrina began to wonder if it would never end. She stumbled along and tried not to think about the death surrounding her, or the grief that she had damned up inside for a time when she would have the luxury of giving it voice. Instead she pressed on, thinking only of placing one foot in front of the other, ignoring the soldiers who reached out to her, crying for help, or the lifeless eyes that stared accusingly at her as she passed by. This was not her war. It was not her fault.
The night went on forever and the smoke grew thicker as they neared the bonfires. Mikel was yawning, wiping streaming eyes, when Tamylan suddenly gasped. Adrina looked back and discovered the slave had stopped walking. She was staring at the fires, her expression horrified.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re burning the dead!”
She had heard of the barbaric Medalonian practice of cremation, but had never seen it practised. The sight disgusted her. But she needed to be strong. Their survival depended on it.
“There are too many men to bury, Tam. Anyway, what do you care if they cremate a few Karien corpses?”
“It’s not right!”
“No, but neither is it our concern. Now keep moving.”
Adrina tugged her horse forward and did not look back to see if Tamylan was following.
Sometime later, they reached the first Fardohnyan corpse. It was a young man with vaguely familiar features, although Adrina could not put a name to him. He lay on his back, his foot still trapped in the stirrup of his dead horse who had fallen beside him. A long, red fletched arrow was embedded in his boiled-leather breastplate. His eyes were wide open and he stared at the sky, as if engrossed in the strange constellations of the northern sky.
“Oh, gods!” Tamylan breathed as she drew level with Adrina. “Lien Korvo.”
“Was that his name? I didn’t know. I hardly knew any of them.”
“And yet they died for you.”
Adrina looked up sharply. “They didn’t die for me, Tam. They died for Cratyn. A debt I intend to make him pay.”
Tamylan looked around with a shake of her head. “If we survive this.”
“We’ll survive.”
“The Overlord will watch over us,” Mikel added.
Adrina resisted the temptation to turn on the boy. If this was the Overlord’s work, she wanted no part of it. But she needed the child. They still had to get past the Defender’s camp, and he knew its layout.
“I’m sure he is, Mikel. Come on. We have to keep on.”
The closer they came to the edge of the field, the more Fardohnyan bodies they encountered. Adrina did not look at them, afraid of what she would see, afraid of who she would find. Tristan was here, lying dead on this foreign plain, killed by a godless Defender. Her anger increased with each step, divided equally between the Kariens, who had condemned her brother to death, and the Medalonians, who had carried out the sentence. She would have vengeance for this slaughter, although how or when she did not know. But one day, she vowed, Karien, Medalon and even Hythria, would pay for the life of her brother and those of her Guard.
“Here! What are you after?”
Adrina stopped and turned her head toward the voice. It was a red-coated Defender although, as she knew nothing of their insignia, she did not know if he was a private or a commandant.
“We were just looking for loot,” she said, in her best Medalonian. “A girl has to look out for herself, y’know!”
“Who are you? What are your names?” the man demanded. He peered at them suspiciously.
“We’re
“Aye, I’ve heard of your kind. Fancy whores is all you are,” he said, sounding a little disgusted. The man stared at the jewelled collar. “I’d have thought that trinket ’round your neck would be enough for you, without you needing to loot the dead, as well.”
“Don’t you touch her!” Mikel cried as the Defender reached out to touch the collar. Adrina could have slapped the child. Now was not the time for bravado.
The Defender laughed sourly but made no move to come any closer. “Quite a bodyguard you ladies have. Now clear off! Lord Jenga has ordered all the looters off the field.”
“Don’t worry, sir, that’s exactly what we planned to do.”
The Defender nodded and watched them as they pulled their mounts forward. Mikel glared at the man
