“Where is my brother?” Nord thundered.
His army had just marched into a third village, and they had yet to see a hint of resistance or any sign of Vilos’s army. The only real trouble they’d encountered was the occasional night raid by a small group of nomads.
Twice he’d dispatched riders to deal with them but they’d never managed to catch up with the more skilled riders.
Arkon waited until Nord had calmed a bit before speaking. “My lord, all the information I’ve managed to gather says he’s headed for the capital.”
“Your information has precious few details.” Nord dropped into a chair.
He’d grown sick of living in a tent, so he’d commandeered a house for the duration of his stay in this town, he couldn’t even remember its name.
“My apologies, the wizard working for your brother is quite skilled. The information I’ve given you is the best I can manage with that power opposing me.”
Nord massaged his temples. Trying to figure out his brother was giving him a headache. “Why, Arkon? Why is he running? At the very least he should try and engage us in a running battle to wear us down.”
“Strategy isn’t my area of expertise, my lord. All I’ve been able to think of is perhaps he hopes to arrive far enough ahead of us to set up a trap.”
Nord tapped his chin as he thought over Arkon’s idea. It made sense. Given enough time Vilos could build traps both magical and mundane. The roofs of the city buildings would also provide fine sniping positions. But Vilos should still be doing something to slow them down.
The truth hit Nord like a battle axe. “He doesn’t have to slow us down. We’re doing the job for him.”
“Excuse me, my lord?”
“Tell the commanders starting tomorrow we’re heading straight for the capital.” Nord rose and clapped Arkon on the shoulder. “Good thinking, wizard.”