Free The Path of Anger by Antoine Rouaud

mocking tone.
    Dun-Cadal tried to keep his balance with his good leg.
    ‘You shouldn’t be doing this,’ the boy advised as the general struggled to harness the horse.
    Each time his healing leg touched the ground, a fiery arrow raced up it and into his heart and his brow burst out in sweat. The horse had been quietly grazing behind the cart and did not seem to appreciate having a lame cripple trying to cinch a saddle upon its back.
    ‘The war goes on without me. I’ve recovered enough to go and find my men, lad,’ Dun-Cadal assured him.
    But his perspiring face and his features drawn by pain contradicted his words.
    ‘You won’t be able to ride with that leg,’ the boy warned. ‘Waders don’t belong on horseback. You look funny like that, trying to keep your balance, but you’re going to fall over.’
    ‘Oh, you think so, do you?’ jested the knight as he finished buckling the girth beneath the horse’s belly.
    In fact, he almost fell as he stepped back, the plank digging into his armpit despite the chain mail protecting his upper body. He was anxious to be rid of it. He placed one hand on the pommel of the saddle and used the crutch to heave himself painfully onto his mount. He had to try several times before he succeeded in lifting his injured leg over the horse’s rump. Then he let it slide across the saddle with a moan. His scabbard smacked against his unpolished armour and he thought he was going to pass out as his leg with its wooden brace knocked against the useless stirrup. But once he was settled in the saddle, his hands gripping the reins, he was able to catch his breath and wait for the pain to slowly subside.
    ‘You think so,’ he repeated in a murmur, staring into the distance. A heat haze covered the marshes and the sky was masked by the same white clouds that had greeted his arrival in the region.‘I must find my men.’
    With a twitch of the reins, he urged the horse to a walk. Even this gentle movement made him grimace in pain, each time the splint tapped the saddle leather. If he was going to ride for hours with only one good leg, this was merely a foretaste of what he would have to endure.
    ‘What about me?’ the boy asked plaintively.
    ‘You? Well, live long and happy with your frogs and avoid armed men whenever possible. All hell may break loose around here . . . I still have a town to capture.’
    ‘You mean Aëd’s Watch?’ The boy was walking up beside thehorse now, trying to catch the reins. ‘You don’t know what happened there—’
    If the lad persisted in his efforts, he was going to stop the horse. Dun-Cadal gritted his teeth and kicked twice with his good heel to make the horse trot. The boy had to step aside to avoid being jostled. Seeing his frown, the knight gave him a mocking smile.
    ‘I should think that idiot Azdeki was unable to take the town and had to retreat.’
    He held back a laugh, however, as his ribs ached with the slightest jolt. The pain made him want to vomit up his guts, but he imposed his will upon his body. He had to find his troops, lead the fight to the end and stamp out the revolt.
    ‘They lost,’ the boy said, ‘You said it yourself: the war went on without you.’ Dun-Cadal tugged slightly on the reins. The horse slowed. ‘The Empire lost the Saltmarsh four days ago.’
    With one hand, the general turned the steed. A few feet from him, the lad was standing up straight, his balled fists close to his thighs. His face had reclaimed the angry expression he’d worn during the first few days and there was still a childish quality about it, as if he had just been punished and was about to throw a tantrum. Should Dun-Cadal believe him? He could accept that Azdeki had failed to capture the town, but the idea that he, a hundred thousand soldiers and a thousand knights using the animus had suffered a decisive defeat was quite simply unthinkable.
    ‘Aëd’s Watch was a trap. They held off your men and then launched a great attack,’ the boy said