have been fortunate so far, but such luck cannot last. I do not believe we can take two more days in this endeavor. We cannot be sure that none escaped the villages retaken today to warn these last two targets. They must both be dealt with on the morrow, my lords.”
“I agree!” Roan of the Aghy said. “Let us split our forces. Half will attack Fulksburg, and half Quartum.”
“Quartum is more a market town,” said Accius of the Devyn. “Both Piaras and Tormod trade there. Its only mine is one that has always yielded us exquisite gems.” He turned to Imre. “What think you? Is it an easier target than Fulksburg?”
“Perhaps, and perhaps not,” Imre said slowly. He looked to Vartan. “It has more streets than Fulksburg, and those streets wind.”
Vartan’s next question was for Accius. “We will march early, but what we do must be based upon more knowledge than we have. Can your people scout the two villages, and meet us along our route?”
“I shall dispatch them immediately,” Accius replied. “Some of us have an ability that others do not. We can see in the dark. It is an inheritance from a faerie ancestor long ago. I shall gather my night seekers, and send them out.”
Vartan said, “If we must split our forces, Roan of the Aghy will lead the Blathma and the Gitta. I will ride with the Felan and the Devyn. Will that suit you all?” He gazed about the circle where they all sat, and his companions nodded again. “Then it is settled. Accius, at first light your scouts must meet us at the crossroads where the road divides the paths for Fulksburg and Quartum. It is then we will decide if we fight as one force, or as two.”
The council dispersed, each chieftain returning to his own clan family. Lara watched as several Devyn warriors slipped from the caves. She sat quietly as the fires burned down to small flames and hot coals. The caves sang the softest lullaby as the winds from the west were light. Tomorrow there would be a battle, and she would be in the thick of it. Her belly roiled with the certainty. Should she be afraid, she wondered? Aye! Only a fool would not be afraid. But that fear would not keep her from doing what must be done.
She had always loved her homeland. She had always been proud of Hetar, its laws, its civility, its order. To be Hetarian was to be the best. Now she realized it was but a counterfeit hiding the deceit and rot that was growing within Hetar’s heart and soul. A sanctimonious hypocrisy that would spread like a virulent contagion into the Outlands if they did not stop it now. But could they? It would be but a temporary accomplishment. If Hetar wanted the Outlands, if they
“What is it?” Vartan said, coming to sit by her side.
“I am seeing the future,” she told him. “It is terrifying. This little war we fight is but a temporary solution. Hetar will come again, I fear.”
“Then what can we do?” he asked her. Sometimes Vartan’s innocence was endearing, but at other times she worried over it.
“Just what we are doing,” Lara answered him. “There is no other way.”
“What will happen in the end?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Lara replied. “Perhaps a new world will come of this all. I just don’t know, my husband.”
“Come to bed,” he said. “You must rest, if only a little.” He stood up, drawing her with him, and when they lay together beneath the fur coverlet he put his arms about her.
“That is nice,” Lara said, and suddenly weary beyond all she slept in his embrace.
In the misty predawn hour they rode forth from the Singing Caves. The air was now completely still, and oddly warm for late autumn. They came out of the Forest, and traveled along a hard-packed wide dirt road. At the crossroads they were met by the Devyn scouts who had gone out the night before. The news was both good and bad.
Accius listened to his men, and then he said, “The Hetarians have deserted Quartum, and joined with their fellows at Fulksburg. Obviously one or more escaped from the other villages and hurried to warn the mercenaries in those two villages. It was decided that Quartum with its narrow streets was too dangerous a place to be caught, and so they have decided to make a stand at Fulksburg.”
“They may have sent someone to the City as well,” Lara said. “Our victory today must be a decisive one, my lords. They may even come out to meet us.”
“So much the better,” Vartan declared. He turned to face the assembled clansmen. “We fight as one, brothers and sisters! Quartum has been deserted, and the Hetarians await us at Fulksburg!”
A great cheer arose as weapons were raised, and the horses danced and snorted nervously at the noise.
Dasras turned his head and spoke to Lara. “I will protect you as best I can, mistress. Concentrate on using Andraste, and leave me to guide myself. I will keep us from danger best that way.”
“You may have your head,” Lara answered him, “and I thank you.” She reached down to touch her crystal.
They moved out along the road to Fulksburg, and the skies turned bright blue above them. As the sun crept over the horizon, Lara wondered how many of them would live to see the sunset. And then on the flat mountain plain ahead of them they saw the Hetarian mercenaries awaiting them. The Outlanders stopped. Their ranks opened, and the carts from the five retaken villages, piled high with the dead and driven by a single survivor from each particular village, rumbled forth to be displayed to the enemy in hopes of disheartening them. A groan arose from the mercenary ranks.
Then a single man rode forth from the Hetarian forces. He drew his horse to a halt halfway between the warring parties and waited.
Without hesitation Vartan rode out to meet him. When he had reached the mercenary he said, “I am Vartan, lord of the Fiacre.”
“I am Odar of the Mercenary Guild. I have come to offer a truce.”
Vartan laughed. “You offer us a truce? There can be no truce. You invaded the Outlands in defiance of an ancient treaty that has kept the peace between our peoples for centuries. You enslaved the Tormod and the Piaras. You have committed murder and rapine. Now we have come to take back what is ours. We have already regained all the villages but this one. Now we will regain Fulksburg, and because we are not the savages you seem to believe, we will return your bodies to your masters in the City as a warning to keep to the treaty in future.”
“I propose a solution to a battle,” Odar said. “We will each send a champion out, and whichever wins shall gain these territories. Your people shall not be slain nor shall ours. Just one man from each side, and the matter will be settled.”
Again Vartan laughed. “You obviously do not understand, Odar of the Mercenary Guild. We will not cede one inch of our lands to Hetar. Not now. Not ever! Return to your troops, and say a prayer to the Celestial Actuary that you will die well this day.” Then the lord of the Fiacre turned his horse about, and rejoined his fellow clansmen.
“What did they want?” Lara asked anxiously when her husband rode up next to her. She had to let Vartan rule, but he did not know Hetar as she did.
“First they offered a truce, and when I refused they suggested one man from each side fight it out, and winner take all,” Vartan said.
“No!” Roan half shouted.
“I told them no. That we would not give up any of our lands,” Vartan explained. “Prepare the troops. We are ready for battle. Lara, you and Noss must remain behind here on this little rise. I know your willingness to fight, but I want you safe.”
“No,” she said quietly, and Andraste began to vibrate against her back. “I am protected, and not afraid now. If you force me to stay, Vartan, I will leave you. What transpires today is part of my destiny. A most important part. You must trust to that.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. Then opening them he nodded. “Very well, Lara. I swore to you that I should never stand in the way of your destiny, and I will keep my promise even though I am afraid for you.”
“Do not be, Vartan! I swear to you that I am better protected than any here today. I will see today’s sunset, and tomorrow’s sunrise as well.”
