Their breath cast long trails of mist from their lips as they exhaled. The torches usually lit on the outside of the houses of Brittlepeak had all gone out somehow.
Others from the village seemed to notice that something was not right, having put on their coats and shoes and popping their heads out of their doors and windows to take a peek.
A light mist began to descend onto the village like an ethereal cloud from the slopes of the mountain.
Then, Tomas heard a cracking sound from the river. He watched the water instantly freeze before him as soon as the mist touched it. First it crystalised before turning into solid sheets of ice. Inch by inch, the water froze from up the river, the ice slowly making its way down towards the village. It was an ear-splitting sound, like walking on shattered glass.
Tomas was in disbelief. “Something is coming,” he whispered to Lynn.
As the mist grew thicker, the air became heavy, and the wind began to pick up again with a low howl.
Tomas turned to Lynn, pulling his old key from the chain around his neck with a single, powerful stroke. “Stay with Old Bertha, I will be back soon.”
“What? Where are you going?” Lynn asked as the boy took off into the village. She grabbed Old Bertha by the wrist, pulling her inside the old woman’s house and slamming the door.
As Tomas ran, the night appeared to grow darker, colder. The mist was breathing around him. Snow crunched beneath his shoes as he drew his sword, the key held tight in his free hand.
He was ready for what was to come.
Every instinct told him to run, to flee. Danger was coming, he could sense it.
But first, Tomas needed to do something.
Screams came from unseen folk in the village. The mist grew thick enough that it was getting hard to see as the wind blew clouds of snow through the air.
Key in hand, Tomas raced for his old home, hoping he could get there before it was too late.
But the night, it seemed, had already found him.
Chapter 42 - Aftermath
Ser Isec Batir was suffering with yet another migraine, as was often the case for him whenever he felt stressed. Despite the agony, the dizziness, and the incessant urge to hurl up his breakfast, he fought through it.
His people needed him more than ever and he would not let them down all because of a migraine.
They had started coming in at dawn. First, a squad of messengers had been sent ahead to alert Andervale to start preparations for receiving a massive host of refugees, the injured, and the mortally wounded.
But Isec had not expected so many people. Not even close.
He stood with some of his city watch atop a guard tower along the outer wall of Andervale, watching the road swell with hundreds upon hundreds of Caldaean soldiers intermixed with crowds of refugees, all returning from the armistice in Tellersted.
So many soldiers were bloodied and wounded, carried on stretchers by exhausted comrades, and some were piled on top of each other on horse-drawn carts.
What surprised Isec the most, however, was that it appeared that something like half the population of Tellersted were with the returning army as well. Refugees, hundreds, if not thousands of them, clumped together in torn, burnt clothing like scared mice, shuffling forwards with few belongings and blank stares on their faces.
What on Eos is going on?
The thing he feared most about the armistice had come true. Something terrible had happened. He had begged the king to let him accompany him for the journey instead of taking soldiers with him. But Tobius was scared, Isec knew. He and his advisors were more of the economic repercussions to Caldaea than with their safety or relationship with Ashen.
Could Isec have prevented all of this carnage?
“Town must’ve caught alight,” one of Isec’s guards suggested, noting all the burns and scorched clothing.
“Bet those Blacktrees did it,” another said.
“Might have just been a housefire, went out of control?”
“During a meeting between two of Alyria’s most powerful leaders? I doubt it. No such things as coincidences.”
Isec was not prepared to make any assumptions about what had happened yet. Not until he had the proper information. But clearly, something terrible had happened and it would be his job to organise the efforts to help all those sorry souls.
“Just my luck,” Isec groaned to himself, rubbing his temples with the bones in his fingers to try and relieve the tension.
He waited nervously for any sign of the king amongst the returning crowds, as soldiers and refugees continued flooding towards the city gate. Many thoughts crossed his mind, fear-filled worries as to the fate of King Tobius during the armistice.
Moon Mother, hear me. Please allow for the king’s safe return home.
Then, Isec breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a mounted procession off in the distance. He could just make out the spear sigil on the raised Seynard banner. The king would be arriving back shortly.
Isec made his way down the stairs spiralling through the interior of the guard tower. On his descent, he began to worry about what he was going to tell Tobius about Wesley’s actions while he had been away.
Isec felt a rush of anxiety as he was reminded of the humiliating task that Wesley had bestowed upon him.
“You will go to one of the brothels down in Scourge Alley. The filthiest, most dimly-lit, worst-smelling, most unsavoury brothel you can find… You will announce yourself to all the patrons there. Your full name and your position. I want everyone in the brothel knowing who you are.”
The request played continuously in his head. He
