Rasmus trudged wearily up the main street of Te’Roek toward one of his favorite places in the city, Berri Tavern. The lingering chill of winter still clung to the street and the trees lining the main street showed little sign of new growth upon their branches, even though spring had already arrived. The ride down from the northern border had been long and arduous, more so than ever before. A horse had been delivered to him at Calormen, well groomed, with a message from Commander Tiron that Rasmus should return to Te’Roek for some much needed recuperation. Apart from collapsing onto his bed and going straight to sleep, having a drink with his brother was the only thing Rasmus wanted to do. He grinned when he spotted Tiderius and hastened up the slope to meet him, putting aside his aches and pains.
“How’s things?” Tiderius asked, pulling him into a warm embrace. “You look as good as new.”
“So the healers say,” Rasmus reported, leading the way into the tavern.
“Let’s see them, then.”
Rasmus lifted up his left hand begrudgingly and wriggled his remaining fingers.
“Not bad,” Tiderius said, eyebrows raised. “They’ve done a pretty good job, considering what they had to work with. How’s the rest of you?”
“Almost back to normal. I was lying around for I don’t know how many weeks! But I think the warmer climate will do wonders for me.”
They went straight to the bar, ordered two ales each, and headed up to the roof garden. The sky was darkening in the east and the sunset was spoilt somewhat by the bank of thick clouds drifting in from the distant coast.
“So…” Tiderius said, setting himself down on the floor with his back against the low wall. “The north is calm, is it?”
“I just don’t understand it,” Rasmus said after a lengthy draft of ale. “Not even a whisper of an army now on the other side of the river. It’s as if they’ve simply packed up and gone home, though I won’t start hoping yet. During the winter, it didn’t seem so unusual, but even when spring arrived, there was still no sign of them. We’ve received the same report from Kilsney for a full fortnight: nothing.”
“I suppose they’re mourning for their general,” Tiderius said. “He was assassinated.”
“What?” Rasmus exclaimed, sitting up.
“In his own home.”
“Bloody hell!”
“Varren left us a note accusing the queen of having organized it.”
“Ah, that explains the absence of an army at the front line at least. They’ll be adjusting to a new commander.”
“We suspect Varren himself has taken up the mantle.”
“What, a mage?”
“The others seem quite certain.”
“Cassios told me that transport ships were seen going up the river, so there must be someone in charge,” Rasmus reasoned. “They only went past one night but there were so many of them – eight, I think he said.”
“If they were all large vessels,” Tiderius muttered, “we’re looking at thousands of men.”
“They just went up the river, silent as ghosts, and haven’t returned. Must be regrouping in Delseroy for another invasion.”
“They’ve used that tactic before,” Tiderius said, nodding. “Remember that six-month truce just before Corhillar died? The last battle before his death was brutal! That’s when I got most of my scars.”
“Yes, just before Angora came. Have you heard from her?”
“No,” Tiderius said, sighing. “I had half expected to see her at the front line but she remains elusive. Aiyla can’t find her, not even a glimpse. She simply disappeared.”
“What did you say to her?” Rasmus asked accusingly.
“Nothing!” Tiderius exclaimed. “She was angry she couldn’t go north to protect the farmsteads should the Ayon invasion break through our defenses. After the queen said no, she ripped up her oath and left. I tried to calm her down, but you know what her temper is like!”
“She just needs time. I was there the day you lot recruited her, remember? She did not want to go.”
“But it’s been months now! How much time does she need to calm down? And she can’t very well protect every town and village south of the border on her own. What in the world is she doing?”
Rasmus shrugged and took another long draft of his ale. “So what else has been happening here?”
“The queen sent both Markus and Kayte south to seek alliances with Zennor, Gorran and Esgarth but, as of yet, they haven’t been successful. I gather they’re supposed to move on after that but I’m not sure where else they can go. Even if the elves do agree to help, which I doubt they will, they wouldn’t be able to get up here in time for any war. They’d probably arrive at the battlefield just in time for the clean-up, then they can sprinkle their elvish dust on everything and make the flowers grow!”
Rasmus laughed and drained his first mug of ale before starting on his second. Tiderius sighed and slowly finished his first.
Rasmus felt very content, being back in the city he called home. The familiar sights and the sound of his brother’s voice helped him momentarily forget about the troubles in the north. However, when Tiderius went downstairs to refill their mugs, he found himself wondering why King Samian and the Ayons were remaining strangely silent at the northern border after massing such a large force. What were they waiting for?