Emrael, Timan, and the Imperators retreated at a fast jog. Timan and the Mage-Healer with curly black hair and dark skin carried the dead Imperator without showing any signs of tiring. Men shouted and horses crashed through the dense forest somewhere behind them, but they managed to stay ahead of any pursuit.
When they reached the river just short of where the clearing around Gadford began, Timan called a halt. “Kemme, Noro: take the lead. Orris will be waiting where we climbed down. Tell him we need rope to pull Oram up.”
The Imperators filed out until only Emrael remained. He was happy enough to take the rear, as there had been no sound or sign of pursuit for the last half a league or so. While he waited, he reached into his pouch to push most of the infusori he still held into the gold coils he carried there. For the first time in the hours since he had consumed the life source of the Malithii priest, he felt like himself. Rage and anxiety well beyond what was normal even for a night such as this bled from him in an instant. Perhaps there was something to Jaina’s warnings against consuming the life source of other human beings, especially twisted men like the followers of the Fallen.
As the last Imperators reached the wall, he moved to join them. Before he stepped past the last tree at the edge of the clearing, however, his legs were swept out from under him. He hit the turf and rolled instinctively, coming to his feet in a crouch, belt knife in hand. He looked frantically from side to side, straining his peripheral vision in the darkness to see who had attacked him.
Too late, he felt a surge of infusori building behind him. Something hit his arm, and his dagger flew from numb fingers. He tried to duck again as he turned, but his attacker tackled him from behind, snaked an arm around his neck, and pulled tight.
Surprise at not being stabbed to death quickly gave way to panic as the blood flow to his brain ceased. His head throbbed, his vision grew bright at the periphery. He twisted and clawed at the face of his attacker, to no avail. He opened himself to the attacker’s infusori, tried to ingest it and thus snuff out the other’s life, but found himself blocked.
“Did you think I would not know, Emrael?” Jaina’s voice murmured into his ear.
Shock warred with relief as he realized he hadn’t been attacked by a Malithii priest, but Jaina didn’t release her hold. He tapped her arm in submission the way he had during training sessions at the Citadel, but still she held her choke.
“You think you are so strong that a Malithii could not kill you? Think again, boy.”
His vision began to darken, and his weight began to sag against her arm as he lost consciousness. Jaina eased the pressure just a bit, and he gulped in air as his vision returned slowly.
“You got one of my Imperators killed, Emrael. Consider this a free lesson—you are nowhere near good enough to take risks like you did tonight.”
She threw him to the ground, kicked him in the ribs, and jogged off to pull herself over the wall effortlessly.
Emrael waited on horseback one hundred paces from the south gate as the sun rose over the mountains that separated the Barros Province from the Sagmyn Province. Elle, Timan, Halrec, Toravin, and six Imperators flanked him, all on horseback. The gate behind them stood open, with Iraean Legionmen blocking the entrance with a shield wall three men deep. Jaina was conspicuously absent—she had refused to accompany him after the midnight raid that had resulted in Oram’s death.
Governor Barros and ten men of his own walked their horses slowly from their camp to the south. The governor had deep, dark bags beneath his eyes, and the officers in his group glared at Emrael, faces pinched with stress. They stopped their horses and sat, silent. Emrael was content to wait.
Finally, Governor Barros spoke, his voice as haggard as his face. “You fool. You have no idea what you’ve done.” He sounded dejected more than angry.
Emrael exchanged a glance with Elle, who had concern written all over her face. She nodded.
He looked back to Governor Barros. “I’m sorry to have attacked your camp, Governor. But I’m sure you are aware, I hurt none of your men. I’ve done nothing but rid you of the Malithii. You are better off without them, whatever you choose.”
Governor Barros coughed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You idiot. I have no idea how you’ve done what you’ve done, capturing a province, convincing these men to join you, when you clearly know so little. Do you really think that those three are the only ones, boy? They and the Watchers are as thick as flies on a carcass in my province. You have only kicked an anthill. My anthill.”
Elle urged her horse forward a few steps. “Father, let us help. Emrael and the Ordenans can fight them. We can win.”
“You can’t beat them, my dear girl,” Governor Barros replied, tears in his eyes. “You will be dead within the season, as will I if Corrande and his foreigner priests think I had anything to do with this. I’m begging you, Arielle, abandon this foolishness and let me protect you. You’ll find nothing but death and despair on the path this boy treads.”
Elle shook her head, tears wetting her cheeks. “I can’t, Father. Emrael may not be perfect, but what we are doing is right. We can’t roll over to Corrande and his Malithii dogs. I’ve seen what they do to people.”
Governor Barros nodded as if he had expected her answer. He said no more, simply turned to leave.
“Governor,” Emrael shouted. “There will be no peace, this time. If you do not join us, you are against us.”
Governor Barros didn’t turn around, didn’t even acknowledge that Emrael had spoken.
Jaina waited in the officers’ dining hall of Gadford’s Legion command building. Oram lay on the table, wrapped in heavy canvas so only his face showed. The canvas had been painted with the personal marks of the other Imperators, and with a large symbol representing the Silent Sisters—the same two hollow circles intersected by a black circle that each Imperator had inked on their skin.
The body had begun to stink despite the preparations they had performed, a regular procedure when fighting in the Dark Lands. Jaina wanted to make sure Emrael and the others were reminded of the cost of their folly.
Heavy footsteps in the adjoining lobby announced their return.
Emrael stepped into the room and blinked, obviously taken aback by the sight of Oram’s body on the table. His nose wrinkled in distaste until he saw Jaina staring at him. The boy had learned to kill, to send men to their deaths, but was unused to dealing with the consequences on a personal level. It was time that changed.
Toravin, Elle, Halrec, and Timan—the insubordinate son of a bitch—filed in. They shuffled their way to seats around the table, clearly uncomfortable.
Emrael shifted in his seat so he could see Jaina over the body. “Why have you called us here, Jaina? Is this really necessary?” he asked, nodding at Oram’s body.
Jaina set her jaw. “Yes, I do think it necessary, Emrael.”
“Look, I’m sorry for the loss of your Imperator, Jaina. I certainly didn’t mean for him to die, but his death may have prevented the deaths of thousands of our men.”
Jaina stared at Emrael in disbelief for a moment, then laughed. “Emrael Ire, I mourn the loss of Oram, yes. But my anger is not for him—it is for your stupidity in trying to solve every problem yourself. This body on the table could just as easily have been yours. Should you perish, our entire cause will crumble, and tens of thousands that follow you will die, or worse. You do not have the luxury of only considering yourself any longer. This war, this movement, depends on you staying alive.”
Emrael stared at Oram for a moment, a frown on his face, forehead furrowed. When he looked up, however, his eyes now glowed with anger and more than a hint of infusori. “While I can, and when I must, I will fight with my men. I have more to gain by earning their respect than will be lost if I die. Alive or dead, I must be seen as a hero. And if I die, one of you can lead the armies in my place.”
“And yet, you didn’t think to use—or even consult—any of us. We have risked just as much as you have, with considerably less to gain. We cannot be effective if we are kept in the dark.”
Emrael clenched his jaw, but soon took a deep breath and looked around the room at everyone gathered. Despite the tension, everyone met his gaze. Good. “You’re right, Jaina. You deserved to know, and to help. All of you. I’ll not act alone again if I can help it.”
She favored her understudy with a small smile before looking around the table. “You convinced Governor Barros to stand down, then? Join us, perhaps?”
Emrael grimaced. “Not exactly. He’s scared, weak, and won’t risk Corrande and the Malithii turning on him.” He stopped, cast a worried glance at Elle. Her expression hadn’t changed from the pinched, angry look she had worn the entire time. Interesting.
It was difficult to stop herself from smirking, but she did. Just barely. “Whoever could have anticipated such a reaction? What do you plan now?”
Emrael’s eyes narrowed as he grew angry again. She liked that the boy had fire, even if it was excessive at times. “Same as we have planned, Jaina. We fight. Barros was never going to join us. Now he knows we’ll retaliate if he moves against us. He’ll sit this out just as his father did the War of Unification. We raise our army in Iraea, and we crush Corrande.”
Elle rapped her fingernails on the tabletop loudly and shook her head. “No. I don’t think my father can sit out this time. I think Corrande has a stronger hold on him than we know, and I think you are foolish to underestimate him.”
Jaina hid a small smile. She could see why Maira liked the girl, especially when she stood up to Emrael.
Emrael clenched his jaw as he thought, as he often did. “We’ll just have to make sure the road between Sagmyn and Gadford is secure, then. The Iraean Lords Holder that control the southern bank should be able to keep Barros’s Legionmen out of the province without too much trouble. They are still the key to victory, not Barros.”
This was the opening Jaina had been waiting for. “You are so sure that the Lords Holder of Iraea will stand up to Barros if he tries to land thousands of troops in deserted stretches of the riverbank?” She laughed to drive her point home.
“She’s right,” Toravin said, looking first at her then to Emrael. “Lord Holder Syrtsan and Lord Holder Raebren won’t stop him, not as things stand. They are almost part of the Barros Province, these days. You will need to do something drastic to convince them.”
“Then we do something drastic to convince them, Tor.” Emrael pounded a fist on the table and shied away slightly when Oram’s body shifted. “If the Lords Holder won’t defend their land, I’ll deal with them too.” He looked at Halrec, as the Lord Holder Syrtsan, who controlled a large stretch of the river, was his estranged uncle. Halrec raised his eyebrows and quirked a small shrug but said nothing.
Emrael turned back to Elle, his expression plaintive now. “Perhaps you can still attempt to convince your father, or even the Lords Holder?”
“It’s worth a try,” she conceded after a pause, though she did not sound confident. “I do know several of the Lords Holder’s heirs. I’ll try.”
Jaina lifted her chin slightly, staring Emrael in the eye. “You’ll be lucky to hold even the Sagmyn Province with the troops you have, and now you must hold Gadford as well. You cannot know what the Iraeans will do. You may consider approaching my people.”
Emrael grimaced. “At what cost, Jaina? We have a bare handful of Imperators—”
“Fifty Imperators is not a ‘bare handful.’ The Citadel would still belong to the Malithii if not for them, and I cannot imagine what your mother had to promise the Council to get that many. There are fewer than a thousand active Imperators, Emrael.”
He frowned in thought. “Be that as it may, they won’t win a war for us. We need soldiers, an army. Why would Ordena help us? What would it cost?”
Jaina tried not to show her nerves. She hadn’t dared send a request to her Order for a larger force without talking to Emrael first. It was best to approach the idea carefully, get him used to it before pushing harder. “They—we—hate the Malithii more than even you do, Emrael. When they learn the extent to which the Malithii are involved here in the Provinces, they will send help. They will do it for their faith, and for the coin. Though … they will likely want a trade agreement as well. Land for a trading settlement, perhaps.”
Timan nodded. It was no secret among Ordenans that the Order and the Imperial Army both wanted a foothold in the Provinces and anywhere else they could manage it.
A glare was Emrael’s only reply for a prolonged, awkward moment. Then finally, “No land, and I don’t have money enough to bribe them.” He pointed a finger at her. “No Ordenan military in Iraea or Sagmyn without my permission. Or Barros. Not yet. Corrande is fair game if you can convince them to attack, but I’ll not have those bastards laying claim to our land.”
Jaina breathed deep, full of frustration even as she tried to keep her face still. “Emrael, you’re hoarding land you don’t even hold yet. I can negotiate for you, secure the most powerful empire in the world as your ally, and you’d not have to give them anything but a promise of a small share of future spoils.”
His grey eyes never blinked. “I’ll not negotiate from a position of weakness. We are not fighting one empire just to become the puppet of another.”
She held the stare for a long moment, but Emrael finally turned to address the rest of those gathered. “Now, how many men can we take to Whitehall? And somebody get this fucking body out of here.”