89

Michael thought about what Lance had said as they started to make their way out of the camp. He’d always thought of his value as part of the whole. He was a healer, Davi and Pyotr were incredible fighters, Ollie was an extraordinary mage, and Marcus was one of a very limited number of dragoons. They were, as a whole, a very valuable group. The idea that under-general Hans was interested in him specifically took him by surprise, though. Thinking about it, though, it shouldn’t have. So far he had yet to encounter any other healers or watch them work. Back at the fort, any time he asked where they were, they had already been exhausted from healing only the knights and officers, and that was multiple of them in conjunction. He routinely healed entire infirmaries, and while it exhausted him, he could do it alone.

Bayle had indicated that their value had been underestimated, and that was one of the reasons he wanted to have them start working exclusively on his priorities, but he hadn’t considered that someone of a higher rank might try to do the same. That was probably stupid of him, but in his defense, he’d had a lot of other things he’d needed to deal with.

At the edge of the camp, a few men guarding the periphery stopped Lance.

“Knight-Lieutenant Lance, the under-general has asked that you remain in camp for the time being.”

Lance raised his chin a bit and took a few steps toward the guard. “Where is your salute?” he asked, his voice icy.

“Uh—” The guard stumbled a bit and slammed his fist into his chest.

“I am a ducal heir, a knight-lieutenant, and I am carrying out a mission for a full general. If you get in my way, I will cut you down, and if you say where I have gone, I will see to it that your commission is revoked and you are sent to your family with nothing but dishonor.”

The guard swallowed hard, still holding his salute.

Lance slammed his own fist into his chest. “Dismissed.”

The man nodded and walked briskly away, notably not toward the command tent.

Lance scowled as they walked out of the camp and started to head east.

“Hate having to do that. The man was just following his orders.”

Jakub patted him lightly on the back. “It was necessary.”

Lance nodded, forcing his face to wear a neutral expression as he led their way to a nearby road where they were able to start moving at a good pace.

“You think they’ll send anyone after us?” asked Jakub.

Lance shook his head. “It would be a waste of resources, especially with how many horses were lost in yesterday’s battle.” He shook his head. “Hans wants to push into Tusynian territory, he can’t really afford to divide his focus from that.”

Jakub nodded, satisfied by that answer.

“About how far to the mountain?” asked Pyotr.

“It’ll be around three days without the horses, but the sooner we can get there, the better. We don’t have clear intel on how long the target will be there.”

“I’d take a long walk over another battle like that one any fucking day,” said Ollie, shaking his head.

Michael agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment, but he did worry about what would happen to those still in Hans’s column. He said a little prayer for them—there wasn’t much else he would be able to do in that moment. There were already so few of those Penitents from the academy left. He’d wondered early on why he’d never seen older Penitents, and it was seeming clear why. Then again, maybe just as many were sent on assignments by men like Bayle. The kind of jobs that kept you from everyone else and still were very likely to kill you. He shook his head. He’d known objectively that he’d had blind spots. Had the others? Or had they realized it immediately and avoided bringing it up around him because of how he’d handled everything?

He looked at the back of Marcus’s head, watching him walk calmly. He still hadn’t said anything more about deserting. He was still being respectful about his space. Was it because he knew what they’d see would convince him? Michael shook his head. Marcus wasn’t that smart, but maybe Marcus, Davi, and Pyotr together could’ve come to that conclusion. Or maybe he was underestimating them.

After nearly a full day of walking without being pursued, they stopped for the night. They kept their armor hidden in their packs and switched to more casual clothes, which amounted to simple tunics and pants with large cloaks that draped over them well enough to hide their weapons. The fashion was only subtly different from the Stent clothing, having a more comfortable silhouette than the slimming and tight military-inspired casual clothing he’d seen in Stent.

They slept that night without a fire, but the night was warm, so they had no complaints. Michael took the first watch with Jakub, and then they switched with Pyotr and Lance. Everyone was exhausted, but Lance gave them no time for extra rest, instead insisting that they break camp to move at dawn.

Before they were on their way again, Michael looked at his Titles and Deeds. He could swear for just a moment that his Healing Blessing said something different, but it was gone before he could read it. He focused instead on a new Deed.

Warrior Mender

When in battle and healing grants:

Middling Concentration

Middling Recovery

The source of the new Deed was obvious, and the benefit it would grant was immense. He’d only seen one concentration granting Deed before that Ollie had earned some time ago, so it seemed to be one that was focused more on magical abilities than martial ones. Still, it would allow him to focus better in battle and more selectively choose what he was healing. The recovery was one he was very familiar with. If it kept him standing when healing others, he would be grateful for it.

The second day they were moving along the road when they realized that there were buildings ahead. They had a cover story about Lance being a groom that was being escorted to a village distant from his home for marriage, a common practice in the region. It didn’t make sense to attempt it if they didn’t have to so they decided to sneak through the woods at the edge of the village to avoid being seen.

As they made their way around the village, Michael found himself glancing at it. He hadn’t really been able to take in the sights of the other Tusynian village because of the Rift, but he was curious. He could see a number of buildings built of stone with paintings and murals that reminded him of the art he’d seen on so many soldiers’ pauldrons in the fight the previous day.

As he walked further, he saw more houses, though these were made of wood and seemed to be smaller. They had art and decorations as well but tended to use fewer colors. Among the houses he could see men and women working. Some were weaving, some were chopping wood, and one was shaving down a piece of wood for what Michael guessed was a piece of furniture. All of them had tattoos on their faces, and around their feet Michael saw a number of small children playing. He saw three of them chasing each other back and forth, and when one of them fell, he felt himself actually involuntarily reach out toward her.

The man chopping wood put down his axe and picked the girl up, throwing her in the air to keep her from crying. Michael could hear the girl’s high-pitched laughter, and the man gently put her down before returning to his work. They were working hard, but they seemed happy. He even saw a few of them that were elderly, sitting and chatting in the shade as they watched the others work.

When they reached a safe distance from the village, Michael looked to Jakub. “Were the people in the wooden houses Takers?” he asked.

“Yes, they’re Taker slaves.”

“Even the kids?”

Jakub frowned. “No. From what I’ve heard, any children Takers have are raised as slaves as well. When another Taker is born, they’re given to a slave family to raise.”

“They didn’t seem to have it so bad,” muttered Davi.

Crick snorted. “Provincial slaves out in villages have an easier time. If you saw the slave market in a Tusynian city, you’d have a different opinion.”

“Have you seen such a market?” asked Marcus.

Crick frowned. “’Course not. I’d never grace a Tusynian city with the bottom of my feet unless I was burning it down.”

“Too true,” muttered Lance under his breath, just loud enough that Michael heard him.

There wasn’t much more conversation for the rest of the day, as they wanted to avoid drawing attention and be able to hear anyone approaching from the road. In the quiet Michael found himself thinking of the children playing in the village they’d just passed. He missed seeing kids at play. It could be a huge pain in the ass managing them, but there was a lot of joy in it too. He wondered how his grandson was doing. Vick was going to be a good dad, Michael was certain of that—he just wished he’d be able to see it firsthand.

Toward the end of that second day of travel, the mountains came into view. It seemed to Michael that they had quite a long way still to go, but he at least was feeling much recovered from the battle only a couple of days previous. The travel would’ve been much harder without his abilities. The area didn’t seem populated, and because of that, the road was patchy and uneven, which made walking it difficult after a long enough time. Still, after another night of sleep, even with him taking watch again, he should be back in good fighting shape, though he hoped they’d be able to rely more on skullduggery than violence.

On the third day they closed in on the mountains quickly. Lance’s pace had increased exponentially now that their target was in sight. They were practically jogging as they moved up the path, but they kept their eyes and ears open as they moved. They reached the bottom of the mountain, and a kind of base camp came into view. They all moved off the main road and onto a large hill, which they crawled up. Once at the top, Lance muttered some words and stared at the base camp for a few minutes.

“There’s no one there…”

“It doesn’t look like they broke camp,” replied Jakub, taking a spot next to Lance.

Lance shook his head. “No. Something is wrong. We need to go down and take a closer look.”