Ordermaster

LXXX

When Kharl woke, he was flat on the ground looking up. It was late afternoon. That he could tell from the light, despite the drizzle that sifted through the trees.

“Did yourself in, almost,” Jeka said, sitting on the gnarled root of a tree, looking down at him.

“I … didn’t have … much choice.” His head was splitting, and flashes flared across his eyes. Slowly he sat up, looking around the clearing in the woods. His face was dry. He looked at Jeka, who had her jacket across her arm. Her blue shirt was damp across the shoulders.

She looked away for a moment, before she spoke. “Brought you up here out of sight. Not that there was anyone down there left to see anything.”

“The whole flat is burned grass and ashes,” said Erdyl. “I’ve … never seen anything like that.”

“Hope you don’t see it often,” added Demyst.

Jeka extended an uncorked bottle to Kharl. “Better drink.”

“Thank you.” He took it and drank the cider, slowly.

“I don′t think Egen was down there, ser,” offered Erdyl.

“I don’t think so either.” Kharl lowered the bottle. “In a while, we’ll move closer to the barracks, but I’d wager they’re empty.”

“They’d just leave?” asked Erdyl.

“Without any white wizards to back them up? I think so.”

Demyst nodded.

“Then what?”

“We sneak north to the other fort. That’s the one with the cannon that guards the main east road. If there are any cannon or powder left there, we destroy it.”

“Just like that?” asked Jeka.

“Like this.” Kharl gestured downhill, in what he hoped was the right direction. “Then we see what’s left.” He didn’t like where matters were pointing him, but another effort like the last would get them all killed.

“What about the fort at the quarry? The one in the south?”

“That’s where most of the regular armsmen who will probably support Egen are. That’s where most of the white wizards are. I’d like to see if we can drag up some lancers to help before we take them on.” Kharl didn’t want to consider-not yet-dealing with the southern forces without some sort of support.

“You gonna throw in with Lord West?” asked Jeka.

“Osten, I hope,” Kharl admitted. “He may not be any better than his sire, but he can’t be any worse than Egen.”

“Some choice,” muttered Jeka.

“You have a better idea?” Kharl took another swallow of the cider. Jeka handed him some bread, and he began to eat. He mixed the bread with some of the hard cheese as well.

After a time, he looked up again. “We might have some influence on Osten-or even Ostcrag, especially if we get rid of Egen and the Hamorians. Egen doesn’t listen to anyone. I don’t think he ever has.”

“‘Sides, pissprick doesn’t deserve to live,” Jeka pointed out, more practically.

Kharl had to agree with that.