Page 160 of War

I don’t get ten meters before one of his undead soldiers runs me down. I’m shoved to the ground, then hauled into the corpse’s arms.

I curse at him, at War, at God, at every other useless person in this camp. I’m mindless with rage. The horseman wiped out an entirecitywith his will alone. And it was the most awful sight I’ve ever seen.

All because I tried to save them first.

My curses become sobs. The zombie carries me all the way to War’s tent, where the horseman already waits.

“I hate you, you rat bastard,” I say to him as I’m dumped on the ground.

War doesn’t respond. Instead, he moves through his tent, removing every weapon he stores inside his home. He hands each of them to his undead soldier. “Store these in a secure location,” he tells the creature. “And once you’re done, bring hot water for the basin.”

I don’t move from the ground, even as the soldier leaves with War’s things. There are still more weapons in War’s tent, and the horseman continues to strip the room of them until every last one lays in a pile.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I don’t trust you with sharp objects right now.”

So he’s disposing of them.

“That’s smart of you,” I say softly, “because the moment you close your eyes, I will try to skewer you.”

The horseman appears mildly amused as he walks to his table and pours himself a glass of spirits. At least, his expressionappearsamused. His eyes are serious.

He takes a sip of his drink. “I can rise like my dead. You cannot. Therein lies my problem.”

It takes me a moment to put together the meaning behind his words. When I do, I raise my eyebrows. “You think I’m going to kill myself?”

War watches me, his face inscrutable.

The horseman swallows the rest of his drink down, then he pours another and kneels down in front of me to hand me the glass. When I don’t take it, he sighs and polishes it off himself.

“Why do you care if I kill myself?” I ask, from where I sit. My temper still burns hot, but right now, curiosity is overpowering my hate.

War rises and returns to the table, pouring himself another drink. Once again, he returns to my side and offers it down to me. I hesitate, then stand and take it from him.

“This isn’t a peace offering,” I state. He can’t buy my forgiveness. Not after what I saw and what he did.

“I didn’t intend for it to be one.”

I move to the table and sit down. I don’t know why I’m playing nice at all. War just did the most godawful thing I’ve ever seen. But then everything that’s come after that event has diverged from the appropriate script. I’m supposed to kill him, and he’s supposed to punish me, yet none of that is happening.

War fixes himself another drink, then sits down across from me.

The undead soldier comes back inside the tent, carrying a steaming pitcher of water. Silently, he pours it into the bathtub at the back of the tent, then exits, pausing only to pick up more of the weapons War deposited onto that pile.

“How can you want us all to die?” I ask.

“I don’t want you all to die.”

“Right, it’s your boss who wants us gone.”

“Believe it or not,” War says, looking tired, “there are other creatures on this planet worth saving—creatures that humans have systematically wiped out. Have you ever considered the fact that even if you’re God’s favorite child, you’re not his only one?”

“So you’re doing this for the mosquitos then?” It should be funny, but I’m still so angry I want to throw my drink at the tent wall.

“There have been several extinction events on this planet, Miriam. And before my brothers and I appeared, the world was heading for another—all thanks to humans.”

So we’re being killed off to protect everything else that lives on this rock. I hate that the bastard actually manages to sound altruistic after this evening’s events.