The silence that followed the battle was deafening.
Wizards trained as healers moved swiftly among the injured. Dally’s sleeve was cut away and her wound sealed. She refused the offer of a soporific, though now that the danger had passed her arm throbbed. The wolfhounds whined and clustered as a white bandage was tied in place. No one complained about the dogs, not the medics nor the others being treated. Dally thanked the mage and forced her unsteady legs to carry her to the top of the rise, where Meda and Alembord stood with Edlyn and Myron. They asked about her arm, complimented the dogs and the role they had played, then demanded a full description of her contact with the enemy.
Edlyn took note of her pallid state and sent Myron for tea. The mug was rough clay and the brew as sweet as it was strong, and it was very strong indeed. Dally felt the strength returning to her limbs and voice as she described reaching out and making her pair of discoveries.
“That was reckless,” Edlyn chided her. “Had an enemy mage been among them, we would have lost you.”
“But as it was, we have learned vital lessons,” Meda replied. “The enemy has weaknesses, and we must use them. Go on, lass.”
It was the first time she had been addressed in such a manner. Dally flushed with the pleasure of being included among this group. She described casting the spell, and how her lifeblood was expelled and the sense that it was this that had forced the enemy to attack.
“That was fortunate indeed,” Alembord said.
“No matter how wise a leader might be, good fortune must still play its role,” Meda said.
Edlyn frowned at the gathering dusk and did not respond.
The healer who had treated Dally climbed the ridge with Bear.
Meda demanded, “What are our losses?”
“Eleven wounded, two seriously. One may not survive the night.”
“I will visit with them shortly. What of our dogs?”
Bear’s voice was made deeper with sorrow. “I lost a friend, Colonel.”
“I feared as much. We mourn with you. If it’s any solace, they saved many a life today.”
“And turned the tide in our favor,” Alembord added.
Meda waved over a young scout and ordered, “Ride ahead and inform the Lady Shona of our victory. Alembord, let’s you and I speak with the wounded.”
The two officers made their way among the injured, offering them solemn gratitude. By the time they were done, the only light came from mage-torches.
Meda called for their mounts, then said to Dally, “Ride with me.”
They crossed empty fields, their way illuminated by Myron and Edlyn and the rising moon. Dally was exhausted now, more tired than she had ever been in her entire life. Holding to the reins and staying in the saddle required enormous effort.
Meda moved her horse to walk alongside Dally and surveyed the night-clad surroundings. “None of the valley’s occupants came out to witness this battle. I find that most curious indeed. Can you explain this to me, Dally?”
“These days, most pretend the valley is content to be cut off. It gives them hope despite the unseen dangers pressing in on all sides.” Dally willed her mind to wake from its half-slumber. “But their world is growing smaller with each passing season. All the routes joining us to the outside world run through the forest. Or rather, they did.”
Meda pointed back to their right, where the eastern hills cut a distant silhouette from the stars. “What about through the mountains?”
“The trails have not been used in generations,” Dally replied. She knew because the valley elders had often discussed this very topic at Norvin’s table. “It’s two days’ ride from Honor to Eagle’s Claw, the Ashanta settlement. You’d need permission to cross their territory. And it’s said that the hills hold no water. Beasts wouldn’t survive. Plus our main markets are in the other direction.”
“So the locals . . .”
Dally found talking helped keep her weariness at bay. “Life was so good here for so long. Many locals always resented the outside world. We’re not on any trade route. The nearest market town is four days’ ride. Or rather, it was.”
Edlyn said, “Surely they’ve noticed the thorn wall tightening its grip.”
“The farms closest to the forest complain bitterly,” Dally said. “I heard some of my former neighbors call it the silent invasion. But there’s so much land around here. Between Honor and the Ashanta village there’s not a single settlement.”
“We were talking,” Meda reminded them, “of why the locals did not offer us their support.”
“Many elders claim we’re better off without the outside world,” Dally replied. “Especially after reports started coming in about the changes in Port Royal. And the new taxes. And laws that made no sense at all.”
Alembord said, “You’re very well informed.”
“I served in the mayor’s house. I listened.”
“And you learned,” Alembord said. “Can you read and write?”
“I attended the village school. Norvin insisted upon it.”
Edlyn asked, “What did his wife have to say about that?”
Dally veered away from that. “The mayor owns many books. I’ve read them all. My favorites were those about the realm’s history. And of distant lands.”
Meda said, “Back to my question.”
There was an easy pace to their conversation, one that left Dally feeling genuinely content. Even the languor of fatigue fit well. Her dogs were comforting shadows padding silently to all sides of their small group. She was among friends.
She said, “Most villagers want to imagine life is still under their control. Like it has been for generations beyond count. They claim the fiends simply don’t exist.”
They rode in silence for a time. It was only when Meda spoke again that Dally realized how angry the colonel had become. Meda asked, “Do the elders share this willful blindness?”
“Some. Perhaps most. They refuse to allow any discussion of what might be going on beyond the thorn wall.”
“What utter nonsense,” Alembord exclaimed.
“There are losses in the night,” Dally went on. “Sheep mostly. A few prize steers. Three guards in four years. But they pretend it is bear or boar, for none have survived to say differently.”
“Captain Alembord, as soon as we’re back I want you to send out two fresh squads. They’re to skin the beasts and return with their pelts.” Meda’s voice had lost all her former ease. “Order a troop to form cross ties from the halberds used in this battle. These spears are not to be cleaned.”
“Aye, Colonel. Bloody they will remain.”
“They’re to salt the hides and then lash them to the halberds. And line both sides of the camp’s entry.”
“It will be done as you say, ma’am.”
“The beasts exist,” Meda said to the night. “The enemy is here and has been engaged. It’s high time these locals see their world as it truly is.”