Blood of Empire

Chapter 40

Vlora sat on horseback in the center of an abandoned town just off the highway in east-central Fatrasta. The air was choked with the dust of her army marching past just over the next hill, and the oppressive afternoon sun made her want nothing more than to find a nearby tree and take a nap. But they’d ridden into the foothills and then back down onto the plains, which were chock-full with cotton and tobacco. Trees here were few and far between.

General Sabastenien sat beside her, examining the silent town with a frown. “We’ve come across a dozen towns like this in just the last twenty-four hours,” he said. “Completely abandoned. Stripped of all resources, signs of violence, no one to tell us what has happened.”

“Violence?” Vlora echoed. The town, she didn’t mind admitting, spooked her. Doors hung off their hinges; wind whistled through open windows. Livestock pens were empty. There wasn’t a soul in sight. She couldn’t even spot any dogs or cats anywhere. Out of sight, a lone crow called.

“Mass graves,” Sabastenien said solemnly.

“By Adom,” Vlora swore.

“We haven’t had the time to exhume any of them, but from what we’ve gathered, it seems that whole populations were marched to the edge of town and shot, then buried.”

“Who would do this?”

“There are really only two options: the Dynize or the Fatrastans. Lindet may be a dictator, but I never pinned her as the type to slaughter her own people.”

“Maybe her armies are stripping the countryside and killing the witnesses?” Vlora didn’t believe it herself.

“Maybe?” Sabastenien allowed.

“Why would the Dynize do this?”

He shook his head. “Your bet is as good as mine.”

“Why haven’t I been told about this?”

“As I said, it’s just been the last twenty-four hours. We had to come some distance from the Cape of New Adopest before we ran into these abandoned towns.”

Vlora’s scowl deepened. There was a mystery here, something she couldn’t quite get her hands around. It had to relate to the current war, but she couldn’t come up with a good excuse to slow down and investigate. She just had far more urgent matters on her hands. “Could it be something else? A local warlord using the war to establish their own power base?”

Sabastenien spread his hands. “I wish I knew.”

“Right.” Vlora sighed. “We can’t afford to stop, but I want you to put together a fire team and a couple of surgeons. Next time we come across one of these towns, give them an hour to try and figure out what happened. Oh, and tell Nila and Bo. They’ll want to check for any signs of sorcery.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A chill went up Vlora’s spine as she realized her mistake. Sabastenien was not one of the few people privy to her condition. He simply nodded and turned his horse back toward the column. If he’d caught her slipup, he didn’t mention it. She stilled her thumping heart and rode after him.

She found Bo about a half mile up the column. She let her horse nudge his way in between Bo and Nila’s horses. The two exchanged a glance, both of them giggled, and then Bo broke into an open laugh as Vlora began to ride between them. “What’s so funny?” she asked, casting a look at each of them.

“Nothing, nothing,” Bo said.

“Nothing at all,” Nila echoed.

“Privileged shouldn’t giggle,” Vlora growled. “It completely destroys your image.”

Nila cleared her throat, regaining her composure before her husband. “She’s right, you know.”

Bo nodded gravely.

As much as these two could get on Vlora’s nerves, she had to admit that it was good to hear genuine laughter. Her general staff tended to be an older, more serious lot, while her soldiers were always so formal around her. The fact that Bo and Nila seemed to actually find joy in just about every situation helped mend her heart.

She rolled her eyes. “Have you heard about these abandoned towns?” she asked.

Both of them shook their heads.

“Talk to Sabastenien. Something strange is going on and I want to make sure there isn’t a sorcerous component.”

Bo shrugged. “We can do that.”

“Have you been keeping an eye on Delia?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Nila replied indignantly.

“What do you have?”

Bo snorted. “Nothing we didn’t expect. She wasted no time in sending out emissaries. Riders went out from her High Provosts last night after the briefing. Looks like she’s sent people to all three of the armies closing in on us, as well as down to Landfall and down around the Ironhooks to try and meet up with Lindet.”

“She’s moving quickly,” Vlora commented.

“Very quickly,” Nila confirmed. “Last night after you retired, she met personally with every one of your general staff.”

Vlora resisted the urge to growl like a dog. Delia was going to do everything in her power to turn the generals against her. “And?”

“The meetings were private, so we didn’t have any spies to listen in,” Bo said, “but I’ve talked to a few of them, and she’s just doing the same thing with each: veiled threats, half promises, and demands for intelligence. Half of your general staff is terrified of her and the other half wants to add her to the unmarked grave where Tamas buried all of her noble cousins ten years ago.”

“ ‘Terrified,’ ” Vlora spat. She tried to rein in her disgust. If she wanted to, she could retire tomorrow and travel the world comfortably for the rest of her life without many regrets. Unlike her, most of the generals had a lot to lose – they had families, hard-won careers, reputations, and more that Delia could threaten. They weren’t stupid, and only the most stubborn of them would openly defy her. “Any impressions?”

“Too early to tell,” Bo said. “I will note that Delia is no fool, and she’s never indicated that she would sell out the country just to spite her enemies.”

Vlora hesitated. She and Delia had butted heads on several occasions throughout the Kez Civil War. While she had to admit that Delia had never sold her out directly, she’d made several decisions for the sole purpose of spiting Vlora – and this was part of what made her so unpredictable. When would she do what was best for Adro, and when would she do what was worst for Tamas’s old allies and kin?

She let her meditations turn toward Sedial. The Dynize warlord was himself an enigma. He’d shown both ruthless cunning and petty vindictiveness. Would he hold his grudge toward Vlora and keep up the fight? Or would he lose his nerve at the sight of an Adran field army and grab on to whatever terms Delia offered to end the conflict? Dynize itself was also a mystery. Their armies had proved to be both numerous and strong, and it was impossible to tell just how many more they had ready to send over from their mainland.

She scowled at the sky, wishing it was late enough that she could call a halt. Many more miles to go today, though. “Is Prime Lektor with us?”

“He is,” Nila said. “Hiding with the baggage train, I understand.” She sniffed in irritation.

Vlora cocked an eyebrow at her. “You met him?”

“Nila is under the impression that Prime is a bit of a worm,” Bo explained.

“Oh?” Vlora asked. “You know what he is, right?”

“I know exactly what he is,” Nila grumbled. “A man with that much power has responsibilities. Instead, he’s a coward. He prefers to put his head under a rock and study his books rather than take an active role in the world.”

“I think the term you’re looking for is ‘pacifist,’ ” Bo suggested.

“I know what a pacifist is,” Nila objected, “and I’ve met pacifists who wouldn’t raise a fist to hurt a fly but would still work for the betterment of mankind.”

“Prime,” Bo said as if in an aside to Vlora, “is terrified of Nila.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Vlora rolled her eyes. “Keep him close. This pedestal we’re going to retrieve from the Palo Nation irregulars is part of the godstone he studied in Yellow Creek. We’ll need his expertise.”

Nila snorted but offered no other comment.

“Lady Flint!” A voice cut off Vlora’s next thoughts, and she turned to find General Sabastenien riding toward her. She waited until he was close before raising a hand in greeting. He returned the gesture. “Ma’am, I have news about these abandoned towns.”

“So soon?”

“One of our scouts just brought in a survivor. Would you like to meet him?”

Vlora cast a glance back over at Bo and Nila, then gave a nod. “Lead on.”

They left the two Privileged behind and headed to the baggage train, where Sabastenien directed her toward the back of one of the wagons. It had been pulled off the road, a bit of canvas thrown over the back to shade it. The driver was off to one side, watering the mule, while an officer and a surgeon tended to a figure sitting on the open tailgate. It took Vlora a moment to realize that the figure was a young man – rather than a child – hunched over and clutching at a blanket tossed over his bare shoulders.

Vlora dismounted and approached to a respectful distance. The officer watched thoughtfully while the surgeon asked questions in a gentle tone.

“How long has it been?”

The young man shivered violently. “Three weeks, I think. What’s today?”

He was given the date.

“No – four weeks. I remember because it was Nan’s birthday.”

“And you’ve been hiding in the hills all this time?”

The young man looked up, squinting at Vlora before turning his gaze back to the ground between his knees. “It was about a week before I got up the courage to come down to the town… but they’d stripped us of everything. Cattle, flour, fruit and veg. They even found the bottle of spirits that Dad kept under the floorboards for a rainy day.”

“Who?” Vlora cut in.

The officer gave Vlora a nod and then asked softly, “Donovel, this is General Flint, the leader of our expedition. Do you think you could tell her what you told me a few minutes ago?”

Donovel looked up again, this time with a sharp sort of recognition. “Flint? Flint?” he echoed. “You crushed the Dynize at Landfall?”

“Aye,” Vlora answered gravely.

He suddenly lurched forward, leaving the wagon tailgate and nearly falling face-first in the dirt as he caught Vlora by the hand. “It was the Dynize,” he said desperately. “They swept through like locusts. Took everything we had, bundled up all the Palo, then dragged all of us Kressians to the edge of town and shot us. My Dad, my Nan. Everyone I know and love.”

Vlora’s jaw clenched. “Do you know why?”

“I wasn’t there,” Donovel said. Tears began to form. “I was out tending the goats. Heard the first shots, so I went and hid. They got my goats a couple hours later, but they didn’t get me. I managed to hide near the old windmill – good view of the town. I saw what they did to everyone, and I saw them leave again.” The words came out in a jumbled panic, barely understandable.

Vlora resisted the urge to shake off his grip, instead giving his hand a little squeeze. So it was the Dynize. But why? What purpose could they possibly have to gain in killing Kressians and kidnapping Palo? Hard labor? If so, why didn’t they take the Kressians, too? A sudden thought struck her. “This was a month ago?”

A nod.

“Describe the banners this army had.”

Donovel sketched out the normal black with red stars, but also a number of secondary banners of varying shapes, designs, and colors. Vlora gave a sidelong look at the officer and surgeon. “Any of that sound familiar?”

The officer spoke up. “It wasn’t that field army that slipped us outside New Adopest.”

“General Etepali.”

“Not them, no.”

The surgeon nodded to herself. “No, ma’am. It was the army that you and Taniel Two-shot…” She trailed off.

Vlora held back a snarl, turning back to Donovel. “Your kin have been avenged.”

His eyes grew wide. “You’re certain?”

Vlora unbuttoned the front of her jacket and pulled it aside to show him a puckered scar that ran from her collarbone down and across her left arm. Even after all this time it was a nasty-looking wound. “I got this from their dragoons. I’m alive. They’re not.”

Donovel threw himself against her, nearly knocking them both to the ground. He wept openly now, his whole body shaking and trembling. Vlora stiffened, then let her arm fall around his shoulders while he cried against her chest. She allowed him to remain there for several minutes while the surgeon and officer looked away respectfully. Even Sabastenien, still mounted and some distance off, bowed his head.

Vlora finally gestured to the surgeon, and with her help managed to get Donovel back into the wagon. She stepped away, bringing the officer with her. “Anything else to report?” she asked, jerking her head at Donovel.

The officer frowned, glancing at Sabastenien. “Well, ma’am, I was just put in charge of this thing minutes ago – right before this poor fellow stumbled into our baggage train.”

“Right, of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll try to find out what I can.”

“The why of it is our most pressing matter,” Vlora told him, then headed back to her horse. She allowed Sabastenien to dismount and help her into her own saddle. Once they were both riding, the brigadier general cleared his throat. She looked at him sidelong. “Something wrong?”

“No, ma’am. It’s just…” He scowled. “You know that Major Gustar is a friend of mine, right?”

“I didn’t,” Vlora answered.

“I took the liberty of checking all the communiqués received from him after you sent the cavalry off with Colonel Styke.”

“And?”

“And I just went and looked – and he definitely mentioned finding a couple of towns just like this while they crossed the center of Fatrasta. I didn’t think anything of it before, but now…”

“This seems very out of character for the Dynize. All the major cities they’ve captured are still fully intact, correct?”

“As far as our spies have been able to get back to us.”

“Then why the towns?” She shook her head. “Very strange. That poor bastard back there – make sure he gets good care. And keep an eye out for more like him. If the Dynize missed one, they may have missed more. Wait!” She pulled back on her reins.

“Ma’am?”

“Did you come across any Palo when you relieved me and Two-shot at the Crease?”

“No, ma’am. Not a one.”

She turned and rode back to Donovel. “You there, quickly,” she called. “Do you have any idea what happened to the Palo that were carted off? Did they go with the army?”

Donovel blinked back at Vlora through teary eyes. He seemed not to understand the question, and then a light went on. “No, ma’am. They didn’t. They were sent west, back the way the Dynize had come. Just marched off with a handful of guards.”

“In chains?”

“No. Just walking. Seemed to me they were allowed to take their valuables with them, too.”

Vlora scowled. “Right. Thank you.” She turned back to Sabastenien as he caught up with her. “Next time we take prisoners, I want you to personally see to it that we get some answers.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Vlora left him with a nod, riding back to the column and falling in with Norrine. The powder mage greeted her with a raised hand, but said nothing. Vlora was grateful for the quiet. These empty towns set her on edge, and she needed the time alone to meditate on their meaning.