Tamas pushed on without waiting for an answer. A while later, he looked over his shoulder to see Olem and the powder mages struggling to keep up.
The sun set on the western horizon, bathing Tamas in twilight. He kept on, the hot night air whipping his hair and jacket, drying the blood on his cheeks. His charger began to struggle, breathing hard, slowing despite his continued urging.
Olem was lost to him as darkness spread on the plateau. The eerie sound of howling brush wolves reached his ears above the whistling of the wind. His powder trance wore off, and he chewed another powder charge to bring it back again. The road passed in a blur and the pounding of hooves.
He did not know how far or how long he’d ridden when his charger stumbled. He jolted from the saddle, thrown for several feet, and landed hard on his shoulder.
Tamas staggered to his feet. Silence. Nothing in the night. No sound of hooves from his soldiers following. No sign or sound of dragoons. Just the desperate gasping of his charger.
Where was Gavril? What had happened to him? Tamas ran a hand through his sweaty, dirty hair. His hat was gone, blown off he knew not when. He stumbled over to examine the horse, his legs wobbly from riding too long and too hard.
The charger lay on its side. It rolled its eyes at him, foam and blood at its nose and the corner of its mouth. Tamas blinked away tears and tried to calm the beast with a hand on its flank. It twitched and tried to stand up, only to let out a shuddering scream. The sound shook Tamas’s soul.
The horse’s leg had shattered, bone sticking out from the side. It must have stepped in a hole and stumbled from exhaustion.
Tamas drew his pistol. He loaded it slowly, carefully.
The shot rang out across the plateau.
Tamas gathered his saddlebags, ammunition, pistols, and rifle. He began to walk north.
He didn’t know when he’d stopped. Only that he was suddenly on his knees, staring at his hands. They were raw from the reins. Where had his riding gloves gone? He shook his head and thought to stand and keep going.
Instead, he dropped his head into his hands. Another brother. All that remained of his family gone except, perhaps, his son. Tamas had failed again.
He should have stopped. Interrogated those Kez dragoons. Found out if Gavril was even alive, and where they’d taken him. How many dragoons in their company.
Tamas knew he’d been a fool, riding on like that. A desperate fool, trying to save his brother. Alone.
Tamas wept.
The tears were dry when Tamas heard hoofbeats on the road. They came on at a steady canter from the south. One set, from the sound of things.
“Tamas?” a female voice called.
Vlora.
She shouted his name again. The hoofbeats grew closer, then stopped. The crunch of gravel as she leapt from her horse. Then hands on his shoulders, shaking him.
“Sir, please. Answer me. Tamas!”
Tamas took a long breath, holding it for several beats before letting it out.
“I’m here.” His voice surprised him, coming out a whispered croak.
He felt something forced into his hands. He looked down. A canteen. He took a sip.
“Your horse…”
“Broke its leg,” Tamas said. “I had to put it down.”
“I know. I saw it. Almost two miles back. You kept walking, all this way?”
“Poor creature. Died because I wouldn’t stop.”
Vlora put her cool hand on the back of his neck. “Drink more.”
“Couldn’t find Gavril,” Tamas said. “Tried. Couldn’t. Failed again. Another brother, gone. My last. I…” He felt the tears coming again and stopped to take several deep breaths. “Where’s Olem?”
“His horse threw a shoe nearly fifteen miles ago.”
“Fifteen miles…”
Vlora took his face in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. He wondered what she saw then, in his eyes. A broken old man, dirty from the road?
“Tamas,” Vlora said, “you rode nearly forty miles. It will be dawn in an hour.”
Tamas blinked the tears out of his eyes and looked up. It felt like he was looking at a different world. The moon was high overhead, the stars bright.
She examined him for several moments. He knew she could see that he was low on powder and ammunition. He’d dropped his rifle at some point. But not the pistols. Not the ones Taniel had given him. No, he wouldn’t leave those behind for the world. Taniel — his boy — had given them to him.
Tamas struggled to his feet, letting Vlora take some of his weight. He looked north. Forty miles. He was in Deliv now. Closer to Alvation than he was to his own army.
Foolish. Bloody foolish of him.
Vlora went to her horse and began unloading her saddle.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re camping here,” Vlora said.
“I’ve got to return…”
“Don’t be stupid, Tamas. The army will catch up in two days. If you keep going tonight, you’ll be utterly useless when we reach Alvation.”
She was right, of course. Not that he liked it.
He drew himself up. “I’m your — ”
“My commanding officer. I know. Here’s a bedroll. I’ll take first watch.”
