Hereward and Isaiah had been in the Salamaan Pass a week. They were tired, hungry, dirty, and almost out of water.
The Skraelings had remained in Isembaard, and they’d needed to rely exclusively on what they carried with them. There were no leftovers from the creatures’ hunting.
Neither had spoken to the other for at least three days. This was due in part to their fatigue, but also due to their mutual despondency. What they had seen at Hairekeep continued to eat away at their souls. Even the horse seemed to wallow in dejection, and walked along with his head drooping.
It was midafternoon, and both were half dozing atop the ambling horse. Hereward jerked awake as she almost toppled off the horse, then shaded her eyes and looked ahead.
“Isaiah?” Hereward said.
He paid no attention.
“Isaiah?” she said again, a little more loudly, and gave him a prod in the ribs.
He jumped. “What?”
“Look ahead, Isaiah. Look ahead.”
Isaiah pulled the horse to a halt and shaded his eyes as Hereward had done.
His own mouth sagged.
Lamiah simply could not believe what he was seeing. One of his scouts had ridden up, gasping out the news that the Tyrant was riding a white stallion toward them from out of Isembaard, a woman with him.
None of that made any sense to Lamiah. Isaiah was far behind him, somewhere in the northern Outlands.
So Lamiah had ridden forward, a small unit to escort him, and then had pulled up his horse in astonishment.
There sat Isaiah atop a somewhat bedraggled but otherwise handsome white stallion, a dark-haired woman sitting behind him and clinging to his shoulders
Both were dirty—Lamiah had not ever seen Isaiah in a state anything close to this—and looked drained and exhausted.
Very slowly Lamiah pushed his horse forward, waving at his escort to stay where they were.
“Isaiah?” he said, bringing his horse to a halt a few paces away from Isaiah’s stallion.
“The very same,” Isaiah said. “And why is it I find General Lamiah, having deserted his command, leading a column of soldiers back into Isembaard?”
“Someone has to save our people,” Lamiah said.
“There is no one left to save,” Isaiah said. “Hereward and myself and this horse are all that is left, Lamiah, and if you continue in the direction you are currently headed, then you will lead your men into a death so terrible that the thought of what I might do to you for your treachery will seem as naught.”
Lamiah stared at him, then laughed in genuine amusement. “You look as though you need some food, Isaiah, and a drink if your hoarseness of voice is anything to go by. We will rest here for the night, and I will permit you to tell me your story.”
Lamiah leaned back in his chair and stared at Isaiah. The story he’d just heard was…extraordinary.
And so infuriating that Lamiah did not think he could maintain his composure for much longer.
“Lamiah,” Isaiah said, looking better now that he’d had an opportunity to wash off some of his grime and had eaten a meal, “what I need you to do is—”
“How dare you tell me what you need me to do!” Lamiah said. “You never once thought to mention to anyone that Isembaard was facing certain destruction? We could have evacuated the entire—”
“That is nonsense, Lamiah, and well you know it,” Isaiah said. “If I had come out with any of this while we were still in Isembaard then we both know you and the other generals would have murdered me within twelve hours. I saved what I could, and I am now pleading with you to save what is left. You cannot continue into Isembaard!”
Lamiah did not respond. He looked past Isaiah to where the woman Hereward sat. She’d been quiet all afternoon and evening as first they’d shared a meal and then Isaiah had told his story. She was all that was left?
“Where are Kezial and Armat?” Isaiah asked.
“Waging war on Maximilian,” Lamiah responded automatically, trying to think through what he should do.
Isaiah muttered a curse, and Lamiah looked at him at that.
“Did you honestly think we would support Maximilian?” Lamiah said.
“He’s all that can save you now.”
Lamiah grunted.
“Lamiah,” said Isaiah, “you need to believe me. Maximilian is the only one who can—”
“Save us against what you have described? Why should I believe that? Is the One afraid of Maximilian?” Lamiah said.
“Yes.”
Lamiah raised his eyes and looked at Isaiah. “What in the name of all gods are we going to do, Isaiah?”