On the sixth day since he had been named as Axis’ replacement, Insharah was riding about midway down the column when several men rode to join him. They were longtime friends and comrades, and Insharah greeted them with a smile and a nod for each man.
“How should we call you now, Insharah,” joked a man named Rimmert. “My lord? Sir? Excellency?”
Insharah grinned. “Insharah will suffice as well as before, Rimmert.”
The men laughed, and for a few minutes there was jocular chatter.
Then the mood sobered.
“There has been talk,” said a man called Olam.
“There is always talk,” Insharah said.
“Many among the men,” Rimmert said, “have been voicing their concerns about the dreams that we have all been having. Don’t deny it, Insharah. I have no doubt that you have been tossing and mumbling in your sleep.”
Insharah said nothing, keeping his eyes ahead on the trail.
“They are but dreams,” Rimmert continued, “but they do reflect the men’s inner fears. What is happening to our families? Is Isaiah and this army of winged ghost men actually going to help?”
Insharah’s face went expressionless.
“Moreover,” said another man, Glimpel, “a man standing guard outside Maximilian’s command tent heard Isaiah say that the River Lhyl had been turned to stone, or some such. The water is no more. We all know what that means.”
Again Insharah did not respond, but, yes, he knew what that meant.
The refugees from the Central Kingdoms had been with the Isembaardians long enough to tell the southerners what they knew about the Skraelings.
How they butchered every person they came upon, and ate them.
How there was only one thing that held them back—water.
And how there was only one person who’d ever had any success against them, and that was Axis SunSoar.
But Axis SunSoar was still in the Outlands, not south in Isembaard, where he might be saving their families.
“Damn it,” Glimpel said quietly, edging his horse closer to Insharah’s. “Everyone likes this Maximilian. He’s a good man. I’m sure he’s been very nice to you. But what in all the gods’ names are we doing trudging along this slushy trail toward some mountain called Elcho Falling when our families are dying down south?”
“Insharah,” said Olam, who had been watching his commander’s face carefully, “what do you know?”
Insharah did not reply, staring ahead.
“Insharah?” Rimmert hissed.
“The Lealfast will do nothing against the Skraelings,” Insharah said. “They will not fight them. They are kin.”
“Shetzah!” Rimmert and Olam exclaimed together.
“But Maximilian said they would help!” Olam said. “Gods, Insharah…this is unbelievable! What the fuck are we still doing here?”
“What are you suggesting, Glimpel?” Insharah said.
Glimpel exchanged a glance with Rimmert, Olam, and the others.
“We would do better south, Insharah,” Glimpel said. “Tell me, where did you leave your wife and children?”
Insharah sent him a stricken look.
“Ah,” said Glimpel, “they’re in Aqhat, aren’t they? So is my wife, as also Rimmert’s.”
“And if they’re in Aqhat,” said Olam, “then they’re already—”
“Silence!” Insharah said. “Enough of this talk, you understand? Do you really suggest that we ride south? We’d not get there for weeks at best, and in that time…”
“Better that than sitting on our arses trailing along behind some man to whom we owe no allegiance, with whom we share no common cause,” snapped Rimmert, “and who has sent uselessness to ‘save’ our families!”
With that, he jerked his horse’s head to the side, peeling away from Insharah, the others following him within a heartbeat.
Insharah rode in silence for some time, brooding over what he’d heard from his companions and how he felt about it. He was jerked from his reverie by the galloping hooves of a horse and rider coming from the rear of the column.
He pulled his own horse out to intercept the rider.
“What is it?” he barked.
“There are soldiers approaching from the rear,” the man said.