The Chaos Balance

LXXXIV

The small Lornian scouting squad reined up along the ridge line. To the west, the road curved halfway down the gentle hill, not too sharply, but tightly enough that the Cyadoran wagon drivers would have to slow as they climbed. Those drivers, already on the road from Syadtar, according to Ayrlyn’s air scouting, would not be able to see around the next curve where the road began to wind between the hills until it reached the straight stretch that began the long haul to Syadtar.

“Well…will this do?” asked Ayrlyn. She glanced over her shoulder toward the northwest-in the general direction of the mines-and the Cyadoran lancers that they had avoided earlier in the day.

“They weren’t headed in our direction,” Nylan said, responding to her look, and not her inquiry. “Not even toward Fornal.”

“They rode toward Jerans,” said Tonsar. “That will not please Ildyrom.”

“Better Ildyrom than Fornal right now.” Nylan surveyed the site and nodded. The Cyadoran supply wagons would have to come nearly to a halt as they climbed toward the mines. “This looks very good.”

“Good,” grunted Ayrlyn. She massaged her forehead.

“What are we doing?” asked Tonsar. “We scouted the other part of the road an eight-day ago, and you said that was good. Now this is good. Will we not use the other place, or…” The burly armsman’s hands and arms completed the question.

“That was good, and so is this. That was for one set of wagons. This is for another.”

Ayrlyn shook her head at Nylan’s obfuscation.

“The Cyadorans can’t live off the land. There are too many of them. Even we have to get some supplies by wagon. So, what happens if they start getting short on supplies?”

“But the lord of Cyador will send more-”

“Which we will take right here,” explained Nylan.

“That’s not-”

“It’s not honorable. War isn’t honorable, and the Cyadorans certainly aren’t. Is slaughtering children honorable?” He tried not to think about what would happen when the Cyadoran troops they had circled arrived in Jerans. Or what might happen all over southern Lornth and Jerans as the angel tactics became more successful.

After a moment, he rubbed his forehead. Even considering it gave him the echo of a headache. Was he becoming more and more like Ryba? Willing to do whatever was necessary to survive?

He winced again as his head throbbed, then closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.