“We were expected in Aostacroí. Hand pies and horses were waiting for us. As were water skins.”
“Good. The northern Regent has a tendency to be stubborn at times.” Meirge glanced behind and then turned his eyes back to the street ahead of them. “We received a number of accusatory missives from Fásachbaile. They say you kidnapped a servant girl. And now you are here with a desert elf child.”
“She is no child. And she is here of her own will. The Treorai of Fásachbaile is a torturer. I brought the girl to attest to that. And to see that she was taken care of.”
“Nonetheless, it is not our place to interfere in the business of the desert elves.”
“Neither is it our place to treat a free citizen as though she is a prisoner to her own land when she is not. Was the girl not free to leave?”
Meirge released a short, annoyed groan before changing the subject. “How much did the messenger say about the attacks?”
“He said that Cursíol and Dulsiar had likely fallen. Is there news from Glascroí?”
“Little. A scout said that the city had been evacuated. There was no one to be found, but it had not yet been razed. We do not know if they move together or if Rún simply ordered the city be emptied. It has not been long enough for them to reach Abhainnbaile if they kept a reasonable pace. She may have received fair warning from Cursíol. The hordes came in separate waves, near as we can surmise. One from the south, through the swamps, and the other from the east, to sack Cursíol. Perhaps they found Glascroí empty on the road to Dulsiar and simply ignored it.”
Socair nodded. “What of those cities then?”
“Cursíol was burned and left. It sits empty aside from corpses. Dulsiar is in much the same state except it now houses a horde and will soon house another. Nearly three hundred centaur and four or five times as many satyr. They have held there, waiting for reinforcements from the east. The south is lost to us, no question.”
It was a troubling state of things. The two cities that could have provided them a keep and a defensible place to quarter large numbers of soldiers and facilities to forge the equipment they would need. Soldiers.
“What of our forces? Numbers. The First Company?”
“Not the best of news, but hardly the worst. The First Company camp was near enough to give response to the initial attack, but it was late arriving due to weather. Rains kept them back. They lost nearly a fourth of their numbers in the attempt to reclaim Cursíol before a general retreat was sounded. They are at Ciúnasmaidin licking their wounds for the moment. Should be on the march in a day at the most. The other companies were well away from the fighting and the city guards were no match for horde numbers. Every able-bodied elf in service to the Treorai is moving south as we speak.”
“For Innecarnán?”
Meirge nodded. Things were dire, to say it mildly. Innecarnán was a small town at the fork that split in the road south. Glascroí sat southeast of the fork and Dulsiar was southwest. It would no doubt be the next place the horsefolk moved. There was nowhere else. The city did not even have walls to speak of.
“Are they reinforcing the city?”
They had made the steps of the Bastion and began to climb them.
“Construction had begun on a southern wall, but that is all I had heard.”
“Good. Get a marmar to Ciúnasmaidin and have the First Company send the uninjured immediately. Before dawn if possible. Aostacroí has a siegeworks and I saw nothing on the road. Have them at least move some of their weapons here for staging.” Socair stopped at the doors to the Bastion and finished her orders. “Send for Dragart in Glassruth. He’s a mason and a fine one at that. Tell him to make for Innecarnán immediately to assist with the wall and anything else he sees that needs work. And tell him to bring as many men as he trusts to get the work seen to.”
“Understood Binseman.”
Meirge took a short bow and then saw himself inside. Socair waited behind to speak with Práta. “Go and get some rest.” She put a hand to Práta’s cheek. “I doubt if Deifir will be brief.” Práta nodded and Socair leaned down to look Nath over. “We are finally home. You will like it here, Nath.” She smiled and Nath leaned forward and kissed her quick on the lips. Socair stood up, shocked and not quite sure what to make of it.
Nath smiled wide. “I know. You will protect me.”
“I… yes. I will.”
Socair went inside and took Práta’s hand for a moment. They said nothing but Práta gave a concerned look. When they parted company she wiped at her lips. She had not meant to give the girl such an impression. She would need to find time to explain things. And delicately. Nath would perhaps not understand. There was no time for it now.
Deifir’s door stood before her. It was only as her hand reached for the latch that the weight of her failure returned. She had failed to convince anyone to believe her, let alone help. And now she must say as much to her Treorai. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Deifir sat in a chair holding a glass of wine and staring at the window. She turned her head to see Socair.
“Welcome home.” Deifir’s voice was solemn and low. She took a sip of her wine. She forced a smile before looking back to the window. “I fear I cannot greet you with much joy. Many of our brothers and sisters lay dead.”
Socair felt a pang of anger at the thought. It lasted only a moment and fell underneath a wave of sadness and regret.
“I could have done
