102 Corag Foothills

With the vivid memory of dead Urecari eyes haunting his thoughts, Mateo left the military ship when it docked in Windcatch harbor. A terrible storm was bearing down on them from the northwest, and the Oceansea had become an angry mass of whitecaps and churning gray water. The captains didn't want to sail farther north into the black clouds and blowing wind; all ships were rapidly grounded or tied up to moorings, hoping to ride out the weather.

While the soldiers and crew took refuge in Windcatch until they could sail north, Mateo left. He did not want to go back to Calay yet. He could not bear to look into Anjine's face after doing as she asked.

After receiving a formal report, he made up his mind to join Destrar Broeck's ambitious operation that used mammoths from Iboria for an invasion over the Corag mountains. Though Mateo felt sickened and soiled from slaughtering the Urecari prisoners, his hatred toward the enemy had not altered. He wanted a real fight; he wanted to face the Curlies in battle at a real military outpost, not kill helpless civilians. Then he could go home to his wife, and to his queen.

Under a sky that spat raindrops from the storm he intended to outrun, Mateo used the Tierran army's letter of credit to purchase a farmer's horse and some supplies. He rode away from Windcatch and up into the hills toward Corag, hoping to meet up with Broeck and his mammoth army before they swept down and captured the Gremurr mines. The Iborian destrar in command of the operation would not turn down another seasoned fighter, especially not Mateo.

After two days of riding inland, he sat in a makeshift camp in the rain, taking shelter under a tree, and tried to nudge more life out of a smoky fire of damp wood. He saw another rider coming—a big-shouldered man hunched over a black horse, leading four pack horses behind him. He rode directly toward Mateo's campfire and called out as he approached, “Are you Subcomdar Bornan? The people of Windcatch told me I'd find you along this road.”

“It's not much of a road.” Mateo stood, brushed damp leaves from his trousers. His horse snorted a welcome to the arriving mounts. The rain began to pick up. “Yes, that's me. There's enough shelter under here, but I won't promise it's dry.”

The newcomer's horses were fine Eriettan war chargers, thick-boned and draft-bred, yet light enough that they could be easily maneuvered in battle. The rider dismounted and meticulously hobbled all the mounts beneath the shelter of some adjacent trees. Stooping over as he ran against the downpour, he came to the campfire, removed his leather hat, and shook the water droplets away.

Mateo recognized Jenirod, the son of the Eriettan destrar—the man Anjine had chosen to marry. “I know you,” he said simply.

Jenirod hunkered down and held his hands over the fire. “And I know you. There are enough stories about both of us, we should have met before now.” The destrar's son hung his head and looked grief-stricken. “Because you were such a dear childhood companion to Anjine, I'd hoped we might become friends, but none of that matters anymore. I doubt I'll ever see the queen again.”

This was news to Mateo. “But you are betrothed.”

“She tore up the document and threw the scraps in my face. Now she hates me. She thinks that my actions caused the retaliation—the murder of her brother. And she's probably right.” He looked up with large, heavy eyes. He shook his head, his jaw trembling. Mateo thought the man might burst into tears. “I acted with brawn and bravery, but I didn't think. I didn't know that the Urecari would take their revenge on poor Tomas!”

Mateo's voice was quiet, but heavy with threat. “You'd better explain yourself.”

Jenirod took food out of his sodden pack, chewed on strips of tough beef jerky. Barely able to force his words out, he explained what he and Destrar Tavishel had done, hoping to achieve a triumph they could show off to Queen Anjine. “I was so pleased when I told her of our victory at Fashia's Fountain. I thought I was doing a good thing by eradicating a nest of heretics. But after what they did to poor Tomas, I see that the Urecari aren't just enemies—they are truly evil! I don't understand why Ondun doesn't just wipe that blight from His creation.” Mateo didn't know how to respond. Jenirod sat in silence; his eyes were red-rimmed. “I wanted to impress Anjine with my bravery. I wanted her to think I'd be a good husband.”

“If you are a good man, Anjine would have recognized it. You should have trusted her. The queen is wise and good—” Mateo cut himself off as longing swelled within his chest. Here was Jenirod, who—for a while at least—had been given something Mateo had always wanted, but could never have: Anjine had accepted the big oaf to be her husband. Jenirod had thrown away all the blessings a man could ever want. Mateo would never get that chance, so how could he not resent the Eriettan man for being chosen in the first place and for hurting Anjine, not to mention causing the death of poor Tomas?

“I heard about all those Urecari prisoners. It must have been horrible for you,” Jenirod said, then his face paled. “Me, I can't stop thinking of the priestesses at Fashia's Fountain, how they looked when Tavishel and his men—all of us—fell upon them with our swords. We hacked those poor misguided pilgrims to pieces.”

Mateo poked at the smoky fire with a green stick, looking away from Jenirod. A weight of guilt descended upon him too, and he made himself remember his own beautiful Vicka, who awaited him back in Calay. Vicka still ran the blacksmith shop with her father. She kept herself busy, but Mateo knew she worried about him when he went off to war.

In Windcatch, he had given a letter for her to the captain of the next ship bound for Calay, but with the strengthening hurricane, no vessels would be sailing for some time. He should have taken his horse and headed home on the overland route. Instead he had ridden into Corag.

“Why did you come here?” he asked Jenirod.

The other man shrugged woefully. He raised his head again. “Now I want to join the fight, I want to follow Broeck and his army over the mountain pass. That's why I brought all these horses, to join the charge. It's all I have left to offer, to pay for my mistakes. I thought maybe you and I could ride together.”

Looking through the rain, Mateo saw the strong horses and knew they could be useful to the Tierran military force heading down to the Gremurr mines. “Have they been trained for battle?”

Jenirod's chest swelled with pride. “These are Eriettan horses, the champions of five different cavalcades.”

Mateo looked at his companion and came to a difficult conclusion. The rain had begun to peter out, but the air remained cold and damp. A breeze rustled the trees, catching misty cloud remnants and blowing them away.

“I'm happy to have your company, Jenirod. Let's hope that we each find what we seek.”