Free Reign of Ash by Gail Z. Martin

have been recalled.”
    Blaine let out a long breath. “Now somehow we’ve got to explain to Niklas that you were trying to save us from him, after his soldiers saved us from Pollard.”
    Geir winced. “My apologies, although that is insufficient.”
    Blaine shrugged. “You came to a logical conclusion. Under different circumstances, I’d be grateful for the rescue. But we’ve got to patch things up because if Reese and Pollard do attack, it would be helpful if your people and Niklas’s soldiers all know they’re on the same side.” He met Geir’s gaze. “But we’d better get back, or, if I know Niklas, he’ll send a war party after us.”
    Within half a candlemark, Blaine and Geir stood within sight of Niklas’s encampment, far enough away to be out of range of archers. They stood side by side, with Verran and Dawe behind them. A line of soldiers stood on guard, and after a moment, Niklas Theilsson stepped out in front. Just behind the line, Blaine spotted Piran and Kestel.
    “What’s going on, Blaine? We were trying to protect you.” Niklas looked as angry as Blaine had ever seen him.
    Blaine moved forward. “And these particular
talishte
were trying to protect us from you. They knew we’d been taken away from the barn. The last soldiers they’d encountered were Pollard’s.”
    Niklas glared at Geir. “I’ve got men who were dropped out of the sky or thrown across the compound, a camp that’s been torn apart, and you’re telling me it was all just a mistake?”
    “No one got killed, Niklas. Geir’s
talishte
were being careful. They could have made it a bloodbath,” Blaine said. “If they’d have walked up to the camp and asked nicely, what would your guards have done?”
    “Put a quarrel through their chests,” Niklas growled. He eyed Geir and the other
talishte
as if unconvinced of their intentions.
    “While we stand out here yelling back and forth, we’re vulnerable to a real attack,” Blaine replied. “Will your men accept a truce? It’s still a long way home, and we’ll be stronger together.”
    It was plain from Niklas’s expression that he wasn’t happy with the idea, but after a moment, he turned and shouted orders to his men. It might have been years since Blaine had last seen his friend, but he had not forgotten just how stubborn Niklas could be.
    “You have your truce,” Niklas snapped. “But it’s probably best if the
talishte
keep their distance until tempers cool and we get the camp functioning again.”
    “Understood.”
    Blaine turned back to Geir as Niklas walked away. “Since we’re the cause of the attack, the least my people can do is help them put the camp back together. Tomorrow, perhaps things will have cooled down. I hope to convince Niklas to ally with us.”
    “Raising an army?”
    “Why not? Pollard and Reese have their own soldiers. And they’ll be back to attack us. Niklas needs a lord to serve now that the king is dead. We could use the help. Better to have them with us than go it alone.”
    Geir nodded. “I can’t fault your logic, but I’d feel more sure of our next steps if Penhallow were here.”
    “Does your bond give you any idea of where he is?” Blaine watched Geir for a clue to the
talishte
’s thoughts, and as usual, saw nothing.
    “Whatever situation had put him in danger, I have the distinct feeling that Penhallow and Connor escaped,” Geir replied. “And an impression that they would rejoin us, after they accomplish… something.”
    “No idea what?”
    Geir shook his head. “As I’ve mentioned, the
kruvgaldur
is imperfect, especially at a distance. Flashes of strong emotion, brief pictures send much better than actual words.”
    Blaine grimaced. “So they’ll show up when they show up,” he said, making no effort to hide his impatience. A sudden thought struck him. “Geir, did your party encounter any scouts?”
    Geir frowned. “Two. I used the glamour to put them to sleep. I thought you might want to question them.