Werenight by Harry Turtledove

Author:Harry Turtledove [Turtledove, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504009461
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2015-06-08T12:00:00+00:00

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As inconspicuously as he could, Gerin made his way through the shaken solidery. No one tried to stop him. If any of the imperial troops had, he would have shown them the Hand. He was glad he did not have to. He did not want to find out how they would react to the symbol of a regime which had just marooned them on the wrong side of the moutains.

Those who had fled their homes and lands in the face of the Trokmê onslought now parted before Gerin, stepping aside like wolves in the presence of a longtooth. Any man going north of his own free will had to be of superior stuff, not to be hindered by the likes of them.

Rihwin let the baron catch up to him, then said, “You will surely need a fighting tail later. Why not start collecting it now?”

Gerin shook his head. “These are the ones who ran first and fastest. I might be able to shame some into coming with me, but they’d likely disappear again at the first sign of a red mustache.”

“Right you are, captain,” Van said. “Later we’ll run into some who got honestly beat: bushwhacked like poor Merric, or just too many woodsrunners and not enough of them. That bunch will be aching for revenge, or a second chance, or what have you. They’ll be the ones we take along.”

“The two of you make good sense,” Riwhin said, adding thoughtfully, “There’s more to this business than meets the eye.”

They rolled through Cassat not long before nightfall, fighting heavy southbound traffic all the way. The town was nearly deserted. Most of its soldiers and the folk who catered to them must have fled with Carus Beo’s son. Looters prowled through abandoned shops and taverns, seeking valuables, drink more potent than water, or perhaps just shelter for the night.

At most times, Gerin would have been after them sword in hand. To his way of thinking, they were worse than Trokmoi: scavengers, preying off the misfortunes of others. Now he had more important concerns. He drove by, wanting to put as much distance as he could between the rats’ nest Cassat had become and his camp for the night.

Only Nothos’ crescent was in the sky when the sun went down. Math was a day and a half past new and lost in the glow of sunset. Tiwaz would not rise till midnight, and ruddy Elleb less than two hours before the next sunrise.

“Strange, not to have the Kirs staring us in the face,” Elise remarked.

Her three companions round the campfire nodded. To Gerin, it was not only strange but wonderful. For the past couple of days, the mountains and the sealing of the pass had loomed over him like a death sentence. Now he felt reprieved. Tomorrow he would need to start thinking of Balamung and the Trokmoi again but, as he drew in a deep breath of cool night air made flavorful by the fire’s smoke, he deliberately suppressed such worries.

Some responsibility, though, had to stay with him.

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