Vince Galatian paced energetically up the ever rising road. He had wasted his time, stopping in Stalworth. The innkeeper there hadn’t known a bloody thing, except that Jeb had departed the previous day, heading for Pagration. Galatian couldn’t figure on why his brother would be in the mountaintop town when they had agreed to meet in Stalworth. Some idiot notion about the larger village being a better place to stay, no doubt. Vince didn’t like it. Akashiman patrols reached Pagration far too often, but they never came as far as Stalworth. The sooner he climbed the mountain, the sooner he could hear his younger brother’s excuses. The sun hardly touched Vince as he paced up the hill, tenacious as a bulldog.
A bend appeared in the road. Shapes moved in the long grass, bending it against the wind. Galatian’s hand stopped halfway to his sword hilt when he realized it was his men. What were they doing there? They didn’t need to rest. He had trained them to march all day.
His second in command, Corren Moore, approached as he arrived at the grouping of men. The second’s face looked ashen as a stormy sky, and worry quivered in his eyes. Something bad had happened. Moore knew better than to withhold anything from his superior, but he hesitated momentarily. Galatian would not be pressed to question his man. He merely stared until Moore spoke up.
“We trekked towards Pagration quick as you said, sir. I had a man flanking each side of the road, like always, watching for game or threats.” Galatian’s steely gaze never wavered. Of course they would be hunting while they moved; why waste traveling time? He had taught them that, as well. Moore was stalling. The second cleared his throat nervously then continued.
“They... they found some bodies in the brambles, sir. Some of Jeb’s men, killed in combat from the looks of it.” Moore gulped. Galatian didn’t like to see that; his second was normally colder than Berevar. “We searched the area, and... well, sir, Jeb’s dead. Him and his whole crew got massacred, a day or two ago as near as I could tell. Sir...?” Moore took a step backwards. Galatian wasn’t known for sudden outbursts of violence, but one could never be too safe around such a dangerous man.
Ice seized Galatian’s stomach. His bloody bastard of a brother had gotten himself killed. Vince didn’t succumb to fiery anger like most men. Instead, he felt frost travel throughout his veins, sealing off any emotion. He had felt the frigid nothingness before, when Yamihara Hiroi stripped him of his position. The ice wouldn’t melt until he had wrecked vengeance on his brother’s killer. Then, and only then, would he allow himself to grieve.
“Flatten a ten square, we’ll camp here for the night,” he said, his voice quiet yet crisp as the mountain air. “Dig graves for Jeb and his men. We’ll bury them at dawn tomorrow, then move on.” Moore gave a short bow and practically scampered away. Galatian gazed into the distance, lost to the world.
Nothing but wilderness in any other direction. Whoever had killed Jeb must be in Pagration. It wouldn’t take long to find the culprits. Strangers stood out in small mountaintop towns.
To be continued...
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