Adam stared at his refle, the surface of the water rippling with every breath he took.

  He could see it. The fire. He could feel it against his skin, cutting him like a thousand knives.

  He could see it. The fire. He could hear the screams of those he killed. He had tried to recall their names, he had made that promise to himself.

  He could not remember their names, even though he had made that promise to himself.

  He could see it. The blood. The gore. The crushed skull of a Viander.

  He could feel it against his skin. Thick sludge, weighing down his shoulders. He scrubbed against his skin, red raw from the hour he had spent ih. The water had grown cold, but he had yet to noticed.

  As he stared into the refle of his eyes.

  ‘Five rounds,’ the half elf thought.

  Five rounds.

  If they were as strong as Adam expected. If the fight went about as well as he expected, he had estimated the fight to st five rounds. If he could plete his task within five rounds, he had enough time and Mana to flee. He could grab Lucy. Mara? The Iyrmen could help her, he was sure of it.

  Rajin sat in the er, illuminated by the gentle dlelight. He sipped at the alcohol lightly, feeling the gentle warmth dang through his blood. He tio sip away at the alcohol, before the one legged Iyrman, dropped down opposite him with a grunt.

  Jarot pced down two gold s and tapped the table twice with two fingers, before he leaned ba his seat, closing his eyes, feeling his back crack. He ehe silence while the workers brought over a ptter of food for the pair, who had ordered lightly the entire evening, but were about to feast.

  “Bordor,” Rajin said. “Grey Cw?”

  “Grey Cw,” Jarot firmed. “I have not heard that name in a long time.”

  “His nephew joihe Three Hundred Bdes.”

  “Grey Cw’s nephew?” Jarot asked, raising his brow questioningly.

  “Twelfth Bde.”

  “Bordor’s heart must bleed every night,” Jarot said, sipping the wine Rajin poured for him, taking a moment si tasted so poor, only to recall it was not made by Rajin.

  “His brother retired, and his son, he joined…” Rajin waved his fingers, having fotten which of the various guards the man had joined.

  “No one has a sword arm like Grey ot even his brother,” Jarot said.

  “Maybe his brother,” Rajin said.

  “Maybe,” Jarot said. “Millions of farmers, but only a dozen like Stonesword and Grey Cw.”

  “It would be difficult for the King if there were more like Stonesword and Grey Cw.”

  “They leash them well enough, the Grand Duchess, the Order.”

  Rajin smiled slightly. “What the Aldish do, but to leash their people like dogs?”

  Jarot shook his head lightly, cutting into the meat now that it had cooled down, tasting it, before sprinkling more salt atop it. He ate the food slowly, only accepting the smallest of morsels. He could barely taste the meat, even after salting it so heavily, barely tasting the salt.

  The dle flickered beside them.

  “The King’s Bdes were refused,” Rajin said.

  “Less to kill.”

  “ you do it?”

  Jarot stopped cutting into his meat, his eyes slowly tailing upwards to meet Rajin’s. “I am not so old you o worry of my rage.”

  “If you ot trol it, yrandsons will die.”

  Jarot stared deep into Rajin’s eyes. “You have grown old, Rajin, that you have o worry of my rage.”

  “Do not fet why we have e. We are old men. Our skin wrinkled. Our bdes speckled. It is ht to die, but Jurot? Adam?”

  “Eat your steak, Rajin.”

  “Say it,” Rajin said.

  “…”

  “Say it.”

  “I do it,” Jarot assured, biting into his steak. “ you?”

  “I feel cold, Jarot. My bohey shake in the night. I sleep when it is dark, and I wake when it is still dark. I walk the fields of the Iyr in the m.” Rajin fell quiet for a long moment, looking through Jarot. “I walk by the s. I hear their cries. Their screams.”

  “ you do it?” Jarot asked.

  Rajin remained silent for a long moment. He csped his hands together, rubbing his scarred hands, feeling the warmth spread through them. “I do it.”

  “A stupid question,” Jarot accused.

  Rajin slowly nodded his head, and the pair tio eat in sileag up the gold to one side, and the bottles of wine, which did not soothe their hearts, but warmed their old bones.

  A cold breeze weled Tonagek as he walked through the dark roads of Red Oak, half of his steps fident, the other half struck by misfortuhe dles in the distance marked the night market, illuminating the few figures, and the guards as they sed across the market, ready to find any traband, and the silver which greased their palms for blurred sights. Tonagek sat down upon a bench, his eyes sing across the night market. As a few people looked his way, he shook his head lightly, and they left him be.

  “Should I buy some moonleaf?” Mosen joked, appearing from the darkness, his arm led between his bde and thigh.

  “I will stab you.”

  Mosen shrugged his shoulders, winking at a nearby guard, who may or may not have had any iions to start trouble with a limping Iyrman, but definitely had no iions of starting trouble with a limping Iyrman while a heavily scarred Iyrman stood nearby. “A drink, instead?”

  “No.”

  Mosen chuckled lightly, but fell silent, rather than making any more jokes. “Yht Quiet Rain?”

  “They could not dehe bde.”

  “Do you have any iions of returning to the Iyr?”

  “Is that not why you are here?”

  Mose out a growl of a sigh. “We are not as young as we used to be, brother. Will you tio trouble me like this?”

  Tonagek gowards Mosen, his eyes full of an accusatre, before his eyes returo the night market, and the various barrels, and crates, and goods covered uarps, leaving only vague shapes to the imagination. Tonagek closed his eyes.

  ‘Father, what is this?’ Tonogek had asked during an outing in Red Oak.

  ‘A barrel,’ Tonagek had replied, still not used to his son calling him father.

  Tonogek had blinked up at his father, waiting expetly. His hair had been cut by his mother before they had left, so that it kept out of his eyes. He was still young, so only carried a wooden club at his side.

  ‘It is filled with spices from Aswadasad.’

  ‘Like dates?’

  ‘Dates are a fruit, not a spice.’

  ‘Is tomorrow a fruit?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not a very good fruit if it is not a fruit,’ the boy said, shaking his head.

  ‘In the night market they hold different spices, and drugs.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘To cloud one’s mind.’

  ‘Clouds belong in the sky, not in the mind,’ the boy stated.

  ‘Yes.’ Tonagek ruffled his son’s hair lightly.

  Mosen allowed the Iyrman to reminisce upon days long past, his eyes glued to the figures around. A small ur approached cautiously, holding out her hands in front. Mosen flicked her a silver and a copper before the girl slipped away, while other urs gave him a questioning look, but the Iyrman shook his head and they dispersed.

  “Any problems?” a guard asked, tipping his helmet towards the Iyrman.

  “No,” Mosen replied.

  The guard and the Iyrman exged a look for a long moment, before the guard tipped his helmet, and tinued his rounds.

  “What did I say about talking to the Iyrmen?” his panion whispered, the woman keeping her voice low.

  “Just cheg in on them,” the guard replied.

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s Tonagek.”

  “Tonagek?”

  “His great grandfather used to fight dragons for fun.”

  “Yeah, and my great grandfather used to-,”

  “Rule the rivers, I’m sure. I’m serious, and you see the other Iyrman?”

  “The one in armour?”

  “No, that’s Tohe other one’s Mosen.”

  “Mosen?” The guard asked. “What kind of name is that?”

  “The kind of hat says he’s reted to Bloodbde, you son of a ox.”

  “Who the fires is Bloodbde?”

  ‘Oh my gods, he really is stupid,’ the woman thought, gng aside to the nearby merts, who he look of shock within her eyes. “Did you smoke some moonleaf?”

  “No, I just had a little drink before I started my shift. Also, it’s not a ox, it’s an ox.”

  “It’s going to be my fist in your throat if you don’t shut your stupid mouth.”

  While the marital argumeweewo guards tinued, Mosen caught the eye of the ur he had slipped his to. He shook his head, and the ur shrugged her shoulders, before slipping away bato the shadows.

  The m, Dunes ed the bde, eyeing his refle within the bde. It was a bde that held an entment which was identical to one given to a dragon. It was a bde that stated his iions to his wife, or so he had hoped.

  “Dunes,” Jurot called, catg the Priest’s eyes. “May I join you in prayer.”

  “Do you have a sword?” Dunes joked, before the pair joiogether in prayer. The pair prayed quietly upon their knees, g the hilt of their ons with one hand, their kh their free hand. The prayers sted a mi most, before Duurned his head to the side, blowing out a puff of air.

  “We will stay at the fort tonight,” Jurot said. “We will make it to the meeting by tomorrow’s noon.”

  “Noon would be best,” Dunes agreed, smiling slightly. “Lord Noor will be our shield, and Lady Arya, our sword.”

  “Baktu, ht,” the Iyrman added.

  “Yes,” Dunes said, smiling a sad smile.

  We are so close. I taste the blood.