With the rift sealed and the invaders dealt with the retinue took only a few moments to recover before they got back on the road to Lataxia. With the number of rifts that were opening it seemed inevitable that they would run into some on their way, and the one they sealed wasn’t the last. They closed two more, one which sent out what seemed like sentient sludge and another that appeared to have opened only recently which only a few horned men were guarding.

  They passed through several towns along the way, and more than a dozen villages. All of them were fortified and had knights helping to train and organize their militias. Some were in better shape than others, and while there seemed enough knights to provide support, some diviners had to be shared between two or three villages at a time. That had left many of them exhausted, being dragged from rift to rift by wagon and nearly emptying themselves to close each one. Those that had too hard of a time were rotated where they could be.

  When Michael and his group passed through these towns he wasn’t able to take the time to seal all of their rifts for them as he’d done in the northeast, but he was able to heal all of the wounded, grant the blessing of Bruntus to the diviners to aid in their ability to recover, and at least help to clear any rifts that were on or very close to the main road.

  The last town before Lataxia was called Hillsedge and they reached it on a drizzly morning. Unlike the other towns and villages they’d been through, Hillsedge was made up almost entirely of the older stone buildings that they’d seen scattered around. There was already a stone wall built between a number of the buildings, and where there hadn’t, a number of wooden walls and reinforcements had been erected. On top of the flat stone roofs were men and women armed with bows and arrows watching their approach. The gate itself wasn’t made of the ugly iron that many of the others they’d encountered were, but rather seemed to be as old as the road itself, made of thick and beautifully wrought steel that was a testament to Hume’s former glory.

  “Hail Hillsedge!” yelled Lance as they reached the gate.

  “Hail. Who approaches?”

  “Sergeant Lance on orders of the Knight-Captain.”

  The man at the top of the gate, a soldier rather than a militiamen nodded. “Raise the gate!”

  They waited a few moments as the gate was raised and then they brought their horses inside.

  The soldier manning the gate leapt down, landing smartly behind them. “The general is in a meeting with the Knight-Lieutenant at the moment Sergeant. I’ll have your horses taken care of.” He pointed at a soldier on the wall. “Bink, show these folks to the officers.”

  Bink saluted sharply, made a decidedly less graceful leap down, and waited for them to follow him.

  They all surrendered their horses and fell in line behind Lance who followed behind Bink as they made their way through the town. Hillsedge seemed to be an inverse of Greathollow. There were mostly soldiers here with a minority of knights all mixed throughout and a large amount of militia mixed through as well. There was a lot of movement throughout the town, with soldiers making their way through the streets carrying supplies, or training in makeshift practice yards. All the smithies were working hard to get armor and weapons created or repaired, taverns were focused on keeping everyone fed, and even old ladies sat on their porches sewing tabards and helping to reinforce gambesons to make sure they were up to the task of keeping the young fighters protected. There was an urgency in the air. Michael had felt it all throughout Old Hume as he traveled through, but it felt particularly acute here. Perhaps because they were so near such a high concentration of rifts, or perhaps just seeing so many military men reinforced it. Whatever the case, it was very clear that the king of old Hume was treating the rifts as the existential threat that they were.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Aside from the military element in the town, there were also a number of what appeared to be refugees. Many men and women appeared to be housed in warehouses or buildings that may have otherwise been condemned. The people near them seemed dirty and lacking in morale, but were well fed at least with there being no signs of starvation or hunger among them. Michael wasn’t aware of the food situation, but knew from the villages he’d travelled through that the larger farms in the countrysides were frequently patrolled. Still, if the horned men mapped things out well enough and began to target those farms things could get very bad very fast.

  They reached a large stone domed building that seemed to be a twin of the one they’d seen in Greathollow and within it they found the same sights of men and women working on logistical work, having meetings with soldiers, and generally trying to keep things organized. They were led through a number of corridors until they reached the door to the central room.

  Bink nodded to them. “This is where they’ll be meeting. I don’t have the rank to interrupt them without having to go churn the latrines.”

  Ollie laughed.

  “Thank you,” said Lance, saluting Bink who returned the gesture before walking away.

  Lance pushed open the door and they all walked into the domed atrium. Unlike the Knight Captain’s chamber, this one had a number of tables covered with papers and maps and had more than a dozen people involved in separate discussions. Michael hadn’t quite figured out the markings of rank in Hume, but the soldiers all seemed to be at least Lieutenants, but the Knights ranged from regulars to sergeants like Lance.

  A few eyes turned to them, but only for a few moments before they returned to whatever business they had at hand. Michael caught a number of conversational scraps with words such as, “massing”, “cut-off”, “ambush”, and “lack of resources.” It didn’t paint a pretty picture.

  In the center of everything were two men. One was wearing the tabard and gambeson of the soldiers, but with a chestplate and armor more similar to the knights, and the other was wearing full armor, with a cape similar to the knight commanders. The general was a broad man nearing middle age with thinning gray hair and a clean-shaven face. He had eyes that were such a pale gray they almost faded into the sclera. The Knight-Lieutenant across from him was a short man with long auburn hair and matching beard with dark brown eyes. He was younger than the general, but likely in his late thirties.

  They noticed Lance approaching and both turned to regard him.

  Lance stopped a couple yards from them and saluted, as did Blake and Laird. Michael did his best to do the same, though he was a bit rusty, and Ollie didn’t bother.

  “Approach Sergeant,” said the Knight-Lieutenant.

  Lance did so and produced a letter bearing a wax seal that Michael presumed belonged to the knight-captain. It showed a winged sword in the center of a shield.

  The Knight-Lieutenant quickly scanned it, his eyes drifting from the letter to them and back, then to Michael and Ollie.

  “Really?” he said out loud.

  “May I?” asked the general.

  The Knight-Lieutenant nodded and handed him the letter. The man read it and raised an eyebrow as he did so.

  The general nodded. “I’ve never known the Knight-Captain to exaggerate. This is quite a resource to have fallen into our laps.”

  “Would’ve been better before enough of the horned men had grouped together to have a standing army on our doorstep.”

  “Would’ve also been better before all four of the villages to the south had been completely cut off.” The general shrugged. “It’s our job to wake up everyday and eat a big bowl of shit, Berle. Let’s not frown the one time we’ve been able to mix a bit of honey in with it.”

  Laird frowned deeply at the metaphor.

  “You,” said Knight-Lieutenant Berle pointing at Michael. “You’re the healer, portal sealer, warrior extraordinaire?”

  “Yes,” he responded simply.

  “You’re needed at the infirmary. We have a few dozen good men and women there. Go take care of them.”

  Michael nodded. He’d never been given the order to heal an entire infirmary without caveats. Clearly they really trusted the Knight-Captain’s assessment of him.

  “Sergeant Lance, you stay with me. It seems the Knight-Captain hadn’t received our most recent update when you were sent here and you should be briefed.”

  He nodded.

  Michael left with Ollie and Blake in tow, Laird chose to stay with Lance to get a better idea of the situation. Based on the frowning and worried faces that surrounded them, Michael had the impression the situation was bad. He would be sure of how bad once he saw the wounded.