“No.”

  “There’s—”

  “No.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “The road is right there, you moron.”

  He lifted his head and craned his neck to look in that direction. “You can’t even see back here from there. Nobody will see anything.”

  “Unless they come back here,” she said.

  He flopped his head back down and squinted up at her. “It’s highly unlikely that anybody would find this spot way back here.”

  “We did.”

  They were in a clearing by a creek several leagues outside the port city of Talice. They had found the spot years previously when in their older teen years, they had gone for a walk before they were married. They hadn’t intended to wander so far outside the city, but they had just let their feet carry them until Evelyn heard the running water off the road and through a thick stand of trees. There was enough space between the trees by the creek to let warming sunlight through. They had laid there on the soft ground for hours that day, just talking and enjoying each other’s company. Her parents had been furious when they finally made their way back to the city and she got home well after dark.

  They often walked back to the spot for years after when Roryn was home from deployment. He had only convinced her to roll around on that soft ground once. He had thought that would be the one and only time, especially after their son had been born a year ago, but her parents were watching Michan and they were there.

  He put a hand on her hip and looked up at her, trying to ignore the sun somewhere behind her head. “You are so beautiful.”

  She laughed. “You only say stuff like that when you’re trying to get into my short clothes.”

  “That’s not true,” he said with mock hurt. “Did it work?”

  She laughed again and patted his cheek. “You’re cute but no.” She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest.

  He breathed in deep and let out a contented sigh. There’d be no rolling around but just being in the moment with her was nice. Out here there was no Sergeant Daud. There was no imperial army. With her parents’ watching Michan, there was no responsibility. There was only the two of them if only for a little while.

  All he had to worry about was an annoying pain in his right side. He wondered if he was laying on a rock he hadn’t noticed before.

  “Don’t go back,” she said quietly.

  And just like that, the illusion of a carefree life was shattered. He carefully considered his response but if he were being honest with himself, there was no good reply. None that she would like, anyway.

  “What am I supposed to do?” he asked. War was all he knew how to do. He had no useful skills other than swinging a sword around. Death was his trade in life.

  She shifted to fold her arms over his chest and rested her chin on her forearms to look up at him. He put his left arm over his eyes to block out the harsh sun. It also had the convenient effect of making it so he didn’t have to look down at her. If he did, those big blue eyes just might have melted his resolve.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “We’ll figure it out. You have a son now. We’ve tried so long to have a child. Don’t you want to be with us?”

  “Of course, I do. I come home as much as possible. My father was a soldier with a kid. Plenty of the men I know in the army have kids.”

  “And how many of those kids end up without a father?” she asked. “Like you.”

  He knew she didn’t say that to hurt him. It came from a place of love for him and for their son. It hurt him just the same.

  “What am I supposed to do?” he asked again. “I have no other skills. I don’t know how to do anything else. Do you think your parents would let me work in their bakery? They hate me.”

  “They don’t hate you,” she said.

  Roryn had to laugh at that. They had resented him from the moment their daughter laid eyes on him when they were kids and started playing together. They thought of him as nothing more than a soldier’s brat who’d amount to nothing more than a man of war when he grew up. Turned out they were right.

  “They don’t,” she insisted. “In fact, I think they’d be elated if you gave up the military and found some other way to provide for Michan and me.”

  “I don’t know what I could do. That sword is the only thing I know how to do.” He winced and shifted to try to get off that rock. “I’m a bit too old to be apprenticing now. Nobody would take me on.”

  “You have plenty of friends in Talice,” she said. “They know your work ethic. They know your dedication. They know you. They’d be lucky to have you work for them.”

  “Do you really see me tending bars?” he said sardonically.

  “If it meant you got to come home to us every night, then yes,” she said seriously.

  “What about the farm we’ve always talked about?” he asked. “There’s no way we could afford one on a barkeep’s coin.”

  “Shit on the farm. I’d give up that dream in a moment if it meant having you home.”

  Roryn stayed quiet, listening to the babbling creek. He knew there was some argument to staying in the army. Something he could say to convince her that it was what was best for them. All three of them. He just couldn’t figure out what that was exactly.

  “I just want you home,” she said softly after a moment, laying her head back on his chest. “I want you with us. Every time you go, I fear you won’t come back. I don’t want to get a note from some runner telling me that you were killed. That would break my life.”

  Roryn shifted again as a new twist of pain stabbed in his side from his shoulder down to his waist. Damn rocks. “Don’t worry about me,” he finally said. “I’ll always come back to you. No matter where I am, no matter where you are, I’ll always come back to you.”

  She sighed. “You can’t promise me that and you know it.”

  “Just a few more years and we’ll be able to afford a farm out here.” He lifted an arm to the trees around them. “Maybe even one along this creek.”

  She didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t the first time they had that conversation. She always let it drop after she had made sure she understood her feelings and every time he made that same promise. He’d always come back to her.

  He twitched as the pain in his side jabbed at him, stronger and more painful than ever. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position but nothing alleviated it.

  “Damn rocks,” he muttered.

  Finally, the pain subsided a little and he breathed a thankful breath until it returned fast and worse than ever. It felt like his whole right side was being ripped open by a wild animal.

  Roryn screamed, loud and agonized.

  “Here, lad, bite on this,” somebody said.

  Roryn blinked up at Shanlon leaning over him, holding a strip of leather to his mouth. Or maybe it was Ainle. He opened his mouth and the twin put the leather between his teeth and he bit down.

  Searing pain shot up the side of his neck and ear. His arm hurt. Why did his arm hurt? He had received more injuries and wounds than he cared to count, but he had never felt anything like the pain he felt in his arm. He lifted it up to see what was wrong. It didn’t move. At least, it didn’t come into view from his prone position on his back. He was certain he had lifted his right arm. It felt like it was held up in the air, but there was nothing there but the twin with his worried, bloody face. Where was his arm?

  Darkness collapsed in on him and he knew nothing.

  5

  Roryn opened his eyes and stared in confusion at a ceiling above him. He turned his head to the left and looked out a window. Rain fell outside, pattering on the glass. He turned the other way and started at a man sitting near him, watching him.

  “Good afternoon,” he said.

  He was an older man, perhaps in his mid-fifties. His beard and hair had gone completely gray. The corners of his eyes were lined with age. His blue eyes were bright, though. To Roryn, they looked like they belonged to a man decades younger. He sat with one leg crossed leisurely over the other and a book open on his knee. He wore plain gray pants and shirt that were a little too loose for his thin body.

  “Where am I?” Roryn asked, though it came out rough, chopped, and stuttering, so he swallowed and repeated the question.

  “How are you feeling?” the man asked, ignoring the question in favor of one of his own.

  Roryn shifted to try to get up, but his head swam with the motion. He dropped his head back to the pillow. “Who are you?”

  The man brought a finger up to tap on his lower lip as he regarded Roryn with calculating eyes. “All right, how about we exchange questions? My name is Ahric Ironbow. My turn. How are you feeling?”

  “Where am I?” he asked again.

  “Hm,” Ahric grunted. “Let’s mark this lack of understanding the rules up to your current condition.”

  He stood and walked to Roryn’s bedside. He bent over, looking deep into Roryn’s eyes, then stuck a thumb underneath one of them and pulled the lower lid down.

  Roryn jerked away, but the motion made his head swim and his vision cloud. When it cleared, Ahric had shifted his hand to Roryn’s right wrist. He seemed to consider it a little harder before releasing it.

  “I’d take it easy for a while if I were you,” Ahric said easily. “You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

  Ordeal. Memories slipped into Roryn’s mind. Memories of marching deep into Dreyumid territory. Memories of a massive army. Memories of explosions. Memories of Reynaldus exploding to bits. Memories of more explosions around him as he fought for his life. He thought about the other Crows, but one other thought ruled his mind.

  “My wife…”

  “She was informed of your injury but rest assured, we did let her know you survived.”

  “My injury.” Gathering his strength, he pushed his elbows beneath him and pushed himself up until he was propped on them. He closed his eyes and waited for a wave of dizziness to pass. “What injury?” He tried to figure it out himself but everything hurt. He remembered the blade slipping into his side. He twisted to try to examine it, but he was stiff with soreness. There was some numbness, but nothing seemed too serious. He was dressed in a white, long sleeve shirt and trousers, so he couldn’t take an inventory of other injuries he might have suffered.

  “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Ahric said, waving away Roryn’s concern. “They have been healed. You’ll just be sore for a little while.”

  “Healed,” Roryn muttered.

  Healed. Did that mean magic? He hadn’t been out long, had he? Not long enough for that stab wound to heal enough for him to be able to push himself to his elbows. That didn’t make him feel any better, though. His skin crawled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the thought of magic being used to heal him.

  “Indeed. You should lay back down and rest,” Ahric said. “It will be some time before you’re up and walking.” He put his hand on Roryn’s shoulder and pushed him back down to lying in the bed.

  Roryn didn’t have the strength to resist. “Where am I?” he asked yet again.

  “The Green Way,” the older man finally replied.

  The Green Way? The Greens, as the city was known, was south of Talice. He was back in Kithea. How long had he been unconscious? The last he remembered; they were at least a month’s march deep into the Dreyumid kingdom. He couldn’t’ have been out that long.

  Even more importantly, he was less than a week away from Talice and his wife. A fortnight at the most. “When can I see my wife and kid?”

  “Soon enough,” Ahric said. “Soon enough.”

  The older man took a step back and considered Roryn. His eyes were unreadable.

  “Can they come here?” Roryn asked. “Can they be brought to see me?”

  “That’s not necessary, Sergeant. You’ll be going to see them sooner than you think.” He turned to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  Ahric paused at the door. He turned back to Roryn. Roryn’s skin crawled again.

  “I believe it is time for me to leave,” the older man said. He took Roryn in, his eyes lingering on Roryn’s right side. “I’ve never been one to give advice, Sergeant, but once you’re feeling better, I’d go back to that wife and child of yours if I were you. Take them and leave Talice. Go somewhere you can’t be found. The edges of the empire. Leave the empire if you have to.” He turned to go again.

  “Wait!” Roryn cried out, ignoring waves of soreness as he propped himself up again. “Are they in danger?”

  Ahric seemed to consider the question, his eyes focusing on something far beyond the room. When he spoke, he left it unanswered. “The Dust speaks and the world shifts. Which direction? I don’t know.” Finally, he turned those young eyes back to Roryn. “You may not see it now, but you will. You’ll know when you need to leave these lands. I suggest you run and keep running before it comes to that. I can’t guarantee it won’t be too late when you recognize it.” He turned to leave but paused again. “Oh, and remember yourself as you recover. Nothing has changed. You are still you. Remember that. You are unique and you’ll gain a lot of attention from today on. You have a few men out here who’ll be happy to see you,” he added almost offhandedly.

  “Wait!” Roryn called out, but the man was gone.

  He winced at a small stab of pain, but it came and went in a blink. He dropped his head back to the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Dust-blasted Sigils,” he muttered. “The Harbingers burn them.”

  6

  Roryn had learned from the remaining Crows that most of Grand Marshal Thomme’s brigade had survived the attack. As it turned out, the Dreyumid that had attacked them were much fewer in number than they had thought. The Sigils among them had used Dust magic to give the illusion of the massive numbers.

  In all his cleverness, Lord Marshal Corrin had been outsmarted. A small force of Dreyumid had been sent to intercept the Kithean force to the north while the rest had been sent to Challes to meet the main force. Grand Marshals Hervi and Ivone’s army had been routed and Challes remained firmly in the Dreyumid’s hands.

  The Crows had related the story with great mirth like the whole idea had been ridiculous. It mattered little to Roryn. His mind had remained elsewhere.

  When he had recovered at least some of his strength, he left that bed in the middle of the night so there wouldn’t have been any Crows to try to stop him.

  The ride back to Talice took longer than a fortnight. Roryn was sore and stiff, but it wasn’t the still healing injuries that had slowed him down. He had kept the borrowed horse at a slow place. It gave him time to think. To contemplate.

  It also gave him plenty of time to turn the horse in a different direction and just keep riding. To where, he didn’t know. Maybe until the edge of the world. Then he’d ride right off and go back to the Dust. It’d be better than facing his wife now the way he was. Half a man. A disappointment. No longer the man she had married.

  He was a coward, though. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Evelyn alone to raise Michan. She didn’t deserve that. She deserved so much more than him. He saw that now. All those times she had begged him to leave the army, he should have listened. He didn’t, though. He had thought himself invincible. He had survived fifteen years of war. His body was crisscrossed with scars he had earned in those years. Still, no matter how bad things got, he always walked away. Always.

  He had somehow walked away again, but this time he had been changed. He had changed in ways that he could couldn’t understand. He had changed in ways that made it impossible to return to the man Evelyn had married.

  Still, he hadn’t been able to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the horse away from Talice and ride away. He had ridden until the road became a cobble street as houses popped up around him, clogged with people. He had ridden until he passed through the city gates into the inner city, the Spring Hands, Talice’s city guard, casting curious glances at him but letting him pass. He had ridden until he found himself outside the tiny building where he and Evelyn rented an apartment from a blind lady.

  He dismounted from the horse and walked inside, leaving the horse untied outside and out of mind. He walked up the creaking stairs to the second floor and down the hall to the third door on the left. Inside would be their tiny, two-room apartment. Inside would be his wife and son.

  Pushing away a wave of shame, he grabbed the door handle and opened the door. Michan sat in the middle of the room on the floor, playing with a wooden toy soldier. Evelyn sat in a chair.

  She lifted her head from the dress she was mending. Her eyes widened when she saw him standing there. She stood, fabric and needle falling to the floor at her feet.

  The look happened in a flash. Roryn almost missed it, but he saw her eyes travel down to his right arm. It was just a quick glance, but he caught it and he knew that she had been told he had lost an arm in the battle deep in the Dreyumid kingdom.

  Had they told her that the missing limb had been temporary? Had they told her that he had become a monster?

  She crossed the room without saying a word, tears welling up in her eyes. He flinched as she reached for him, but she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Her body shivered with silent sobs. He hesitated for several long moments before he wrapped his left arm around her, holding her tight.

  He had no idea how long they stood in the doorway holding each other, but when he finally looked up, he saw the boy watching them. His son. How could he be a father now?

  The moment passed and Evelyn pushed away from him. She wiped away the tears from her eyes and took his left hand, drawing him into their home.

  They stood in the middle of the room with her right in front of him. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

  She reached out to take his right hand. He had to resist the urge to pull away from her. She lifted the hand and started pulling off the glove that covered it. He wanted nothing more than to curl it into a fist to stop her. He didn’t. He kept it loose.

 

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