Free Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) by Raymond Bolton

her bodyguard kept to the foot of the mountains, as I instructed, she should be fine. She’s smart, so I suspect she did. In any case, she couldn’t have remained.”
    Barral surveyed the thousands of corpses and nodded.
    “What do we do with them all?” he asked. “In two or three days, the stench will be intolerable. We can’t leave. We have to remain here to secure the fort.”
    “Locate your division commanders, or whomever remains in their place, and order them to assemble as many squads as they can and build pyres. Use the remains of Kael’s encampment to construct them and whatever’s left when you’re done as fuel. There are too many to bury, and we need to turn our attention to the state of our supplies. In the meanwhile, I will send couriers to barakMaroc. If the reinforcements General Kahn put together fared half as well as we did, we will have something upon which to rebuild. This was only Kael’s first offensive.”
    “That reminds me,” said Barral. “If you recall, Pytheral had begun sending aid when Kael shut the door on them. While he’s still in disarray, I can send riders west to inquire if they are still willing to join us.”
    “Dispatch them at once. Cargath has supporters in Dethen. If they decide to join forces, they can cut off whatever help Pytheral offers and your riders may find themselves caught between the two and fighting for their lives.”
    “So it will be Cargath and Kael against us?” Barral inquired.
    “Be glad there is still fighting in the North. If Limast and Meden weren’t still at war, we might face Harven Goth as well. We still might.”
    “Why would Meden assist Kael?” Barral asked. “They have no common interests.”
    Obah screwed up his mouth and said, “Power unites as much as it divides. That is all this is about.”
    “It’s not what we are about. We are fighting for our lands and our right to remain free.” He paused and looked Lord Sitheh squarely in the eye. “Or have things changed since we began?”
    Placing his free hand on Barral’s shoulder, Obah replied, “We are still the same and the world around us is still mad. Sometimes I wonder when it will all end and if we will still be here when it does. I have to believe we will. I have to believe that somehow a few madmen have created all this and that sanity will prevail.”
    He gestured at the miles of dead men.
    “I don’t know if it was just youth and innocence that made me believe most men want to be brothers and yearn to live in peace. I wasn’t very old at the start, but I’d like to believe goodness was not just the product of youthful imagination.”
    “If it was,” said Barral, “then we both suffered the same delusions. The men who joined with you also believed. We weren’t raised to be fighters. My mother and father—may the gods grant them rest—were shopkeepers. They dreamed of grandchildren, not kingdoms.”
    “Mine as well,” Obah replied. He reflected on the carnage before adding, “We need to bring an end to it. Ride to Nagath-réal and speak with Ammac Bad. Tell him we appreciate the troops that he sent, but tell him we need more. If my guess is right, this is shaping up to be the greatest battle our world has ever known. He cannot afford to pretend to be neutral and apart any longer. No one can. After that, go to barakMaroc and confer with Kahn to assess his needs.”

11
    A long low fog obscured the coast, so the ship hove to and dropped anchor well out to sea. Pandy had watched the crew lower the remaining skiff before securing a great panel of rope webbing to the railing and dropping it over the side. She and Harad were to descend to the tiny craft below by scaling the crisscrossed lines. Two seamen scrambled down before them and waited, while others shipboard held the skiff’s bow and stern lines to keep the small boat from drifting. The tiny craft jounced against its tethers, responding to the sea and the impact of the sailors jumping onto it. As each one