Eza Kurzhakova saw the scouts before they’d even realized they were in her eeline.
She and Silas Baines, the bear of a man serving as her ranging partner, had already made camp for the night. No Blight had been spotted in their first day of their three day patrol. In fact, the only things they’d seen on the woods outside of Airde were wild animals. Silas had managed to snare a rabbit for dinner, and was whistling an unrecognizable tune as he roasted it on a spit.
“You wanna relax, there, kiddo?” Silas asked. “I don’t think that barrel’s gonna get any shinier.”
Eza looked up from polishing her weapon and raised an eyebrow. “Depends: are you going to stop whistling? Blight are attracted to noise, you know.”
“So what?” Silas said with a shrug and a turn of the spit. “We haven’t seen any all day; not even a sign of ‘em.”
“So, you think that means we won’t see any for two more days?”
“Lighten up, Ez,” Silas said. “I swear: you’re crankier than normal.”
Eza looked out into the dark woods surrounding them. Silas called it cranky; she called it cautious. Cautious, and suspicious. They were only twenty miles away from the Caithian-Gisken border, which had been far too quiet for her liking. It had been nearly five days since Ulrick’s last telegram. He was supposed to send one in the morning and one at night. And she’d received word from Polain that none of the other officers had sent anything since then, either. Silas seemed convinced that a telegraph line had fallen during their last beig storm. Eza wasn’t so optimistic. Ulrick was many things, and one of those things was a perfect soldier. He followed orders, almost to an obnoxious level. Something had happened to him. Something bad. And if she was right, it had something to do with the front.
“He’s fine, you know,” Silas said. “He always is. Whether he wants to be or not.”
Eza glanced back at him. “There’s a difference between being fine and being alive, Silas. And I think you know that full well.”
Silas shrugged.
Ez looked back out at the woods.
That was when she saw it: movement. Just a little flash of fabric; she wouldn’t have seen it without her Blessing.
She moved her hand. From where the scout was, it likely just looked like she was resting her hand on it. In reality, she was slowly pumping the lever, readying to fire.
“You see something?” Silas was still focused on his spit.
Eza nodded.
“Blight or human?”
“Human.”
The lever clicked. She slowly began to pull it back in.
“And you aren’t even going to make certain of who it is before you kill them?”
She wasn’t: she recognized that green fabric from her childhood. No matter how much she tried to forget it.
“Trust me.”
The lever was all the way back down, now. Ready to kill.
“I usually do,” Silas said.
That was all the permission Eza needed.
She stood up, took aim, and fired.
It took less than a blink of an eye; another side effect of her mind-sharpening Blessing. She heard a scream, what sounded like a Gisken name being shouted.
She’d been right, of course: Gisken scouts.
Silas stood up. “On it!”
He ran in the direction she’d fired, faster than any normal man should’ve been able to. Part of his Blessing.
Silas reached the second scot before he’d realized what was happening. He grabbed the Gisken by the collar and shoved him against a tree, making him yelp.
Eza ran towards them.
When she got to them, she saw that her aim had been true: the Gisken she’d shot was dead. The other one was saying something in Gisken so quickly, it was nearly impossible to understand him.
“Don’t suppose your Gisken’s good enough to understand a lick of this, is it?” Silas asked as the scout flailed in his hand.
It wasn’t, in fact. Then again, she was fairly certain that even another gisken wouldn’t be able to understand him.
“Gisken, if you want to survive the night, you’re going to stop your blubbering,” Eza growled.
The scout stared at her, eyes wide in shock.
“You’re Gisken?” he asked.
Eza’s blood boiled at the accusation. “You don’t get to ask the questions, here. I need your name, rank, and commanding officer. Otherwise, I’ll have to consider you a spy and execute you right here, right now, according to Caithian law.”
The Gisken looked like he might cry. Silas shot her a questioning look, but he didn’t say anything.
“C-corporal Andre Wolfgang, commanded by Major General Eicher!”
Eicher. She knew that name: there wasn’t a Kurzhian alive who didn’t know who the Butcher of Lidic was.
She forced those childhood memories out of her head. “And you made it all the way here from the front?”
“From a town just west of here,” the Gisken said. “We broke through the front four days ago.”
Four days ago. That was when they’d lost communication with the front. If they’d made it that far in that short amount of time, the line was gone. And, likely, every man on it.
Her stomach sat heavy, as if she’d swallowed a rock. Ulrick wasn’t the only official at the front when the telegraph lines went silent: King Thias had been there to inspect the front, as well as to raise morale. If the front had fallen before the king had left, he was either dead or taken hostage.
Shit! They were barely at war, and already, the Giskens may have struck the killing blow.
Her mind drifted home. To Kurzh. It had been five, nearly six years since Kurzh went under Gisken occupation, and she still had nightmares about it. The dying breaths of people she’d cared about reverberated in her skull the second she closed her eyes to sleep. Some nights, she saw their faces. Some days, the smell of cooking meat took her back to nights during the Siege of Ilyaskoe, trying to not think about where Mitrius had found meat. Her homeland had been raped and murdered, the people suffering even more now than they did during the Sorrows. She would not let the same thing happen to the place that had taken her in when nobody else would.
She was going to do something about the Giskens, and she was going to do it now!
“You’ve got that crazy look in your eyes, Ez,” Silas said. “What’re you planning?”
Eza didn’t respond. Instead, she continued to stare at the scout. “What town is your army in?”
The scout didn’t respond.
Fine by her.
She pumped the lever on her rifle and held it to the Gisken’s head. “Talk. Now!”
The scout began to fight Silas even more: he kicked him in the stomach, hard, but it wasn’t enough to loosen his grip; all he did was grunt.
“Was that really necessary, kid?” Silas asked. “Still hurts, you know.”
“You’ll live.” Eza turned back to the Gisken. “The town name. Now!”
“Thaos!” the scout squeaked. “We’re in Thaos!”
Thaos. The first sign of civilization on the Caithian side of the border. A speck, not even large enough to have a train station. But, it wasn’t far from Airde.
Eza didn’t need her Blessing to know exactly where the Giskens planned to attack next.
“Any special prisoners?” Eza asked.
The scout nodded. “A-a commandant. One with a Blessing. H-he can heal himself!”
Ulrick! She never should’ve doubted him: the bastard always did have a knack at keeping himself alive.
Eza had heard enough: she turned her rifle around and hit him in the head with the butt, hard.
Silas dropped the now unconscious Gisken, allowing him to slump to the ground. “Any particular reason for that, or did you just feel like it?”
“The Giskens are in Thaos,” Eza said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “They’ve got Ulrick. And from the sound of it, they know the Godswater is more than a legend.”
Silas cursed, slicking his blonde hair back with one of his meaty hands. “We’re tying up this Gisken and dragging him back to Airde. Then, we’re going to tell Polain that his line didn’t hold.”
“I’m going to Thaos.”
Silas folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow. “You plan on busting Ulrick out? By yourself?”
“Are you going to stop me?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I know there ain’t a force in heaven or hell that can stop you.” He looked down at the Gisken. “Not happy that you’re leaving me with this bastard, though.”
Eza looked out in the direction of Thaos. “I’ll be back by morning. If not, they probably got to me.”
“Don’t give ‘em the chance, kid,” silas said. “I’ll leave the light on for ya.”
Eza nodded and began running toward Thaos.
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