Page 42 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

TOLVAR

T olvar offered Kyrie his tent for the night, but she opted to sleep in the open, stating that she prayed the stars would give her direction.

After an hour of staring at the canvas ceiling, Tolvar belted his sword to his waist and set out toward Anscom’s camp. He hoped, since Turas’s men had been there with Kyrie, mayhap he would be the most reasonable.

The quiet walk with naught but the melody of night creatures calmed Tolvar, and he was ready to wear patience like a shield when he came upon Turas’s camp.

The camp was noiseless, as would be expected after midnight. Tolvar slowed his pace so he could announce himself to Turas’s guards. But no one challenged him.

He came to a standstill. A knot clenched his middle. Where were the guards? Had Greenwood ambushed them?

Tolvar silently dodged behind a bush and leaned forward, listening.

A few men sat around a crackling campfire, but not close enough for Tolvar to hear anything.

In the darkness, ’twas difficult to make out distinct details.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just a battle camp sitting around waiting for dawn .

But where were the sentries?

He was about to extricate himself from the bush when he noticed something.

Something that mayhap not everyone would notice, and mayhap Tolvar only did because of his own surprise visitor today.

Tolvar’s head tipped to the side. Horses.

Not horses from Anscom. Those horses were in an enclosed pasture toward the opposite grove.

Four horses hobbled outside a large tent. Turas’s tent.

Visitors at this hour, Turas?

Treading silently to the edge of the trees, Tolvar crouched and waited. His heartbeat quickened. In the dark ’twas impossible to be certain, but the skirt of the horses’ tack certainly did appear to have a green hue in the moonlight.

Mayhap Turas and Greenwood were finally coming to a reconciliation?

Had Kyrie’s sealing the crack made this come about?

He was considering joining them when the terrible noise sounded—the blare of the herald’s horn. A horn used only when there was danger or trouble. And it came from his camp.

Stars.

Tolvar sprinted away, cursing himself that he’d walked instead of ridden.

When he arrived, everything was in a state of upheaval. Torches had been lit, and soldiers were everywhere.

“What’s happening?” Tolvar shouted.

“Lord Tolvar, finally, we’ve found you. Sir Bernwald is in your tent.”

“Sir Bernwald?” Tolvar stormed into his tent where Bernwald sat, his face blackened with soot, a healer bandaging his arm.

“Trysinmar burns! We tried to get some citizens out. Not nearly enough. And the men. ’Twas a trap, m’lord.”

“Slow down. What happened?”

“Trysinmar had been set aflame before we arrived. Many of the townspeople had been trapped in the pub in the square. Bolted in, they were. We were able to break down the door, but the roof collapsed. The fire jumped to other buildings, and ’twas not long before the whole town was aflame.

The flames spread across the main gate. I do not know how they trapped us there.

How they got out themselves. So many lost, m’lord. I lost them!”

“How many men?”

Bernwald sat frozen. Tolvar was reminded of how the old man appeared when his father had died.

Tolvar shook him. “Bernwald, how many men?”

“All, m’lord. I am the only one who made it out. I know not how. I crawled out through a half-rusted door of a side stable.” Then Bernwald did something Tolvar had never witnessed. He sobbed. “My men.”

“Gus, too?” Tolvar ran his hand through his hair.

“Aye.”

“Damn it!” Tolvar exited the tent and peered in the distance, expecting to see billowing smoke. But ’twas too dark.

Blood thumped through his chest. Bernwald had made it out. But no one else.

“M’lord,” a knight approached and held out a large, folded parchment. “This was pinned to Sir Bernwald’s horse.”

Tolvar took it. It was wet. Holding his hand to his face, blood stuck to his fingers. “Whose blood is this?” The knight paled. “Tell me.”

“There was a bird stuck to it. ’Tis how we noticed it.”

All breath drained out of Tolvar. “Was it a starling?”

“I know not, m’lord.”

“Bring it to me.”

“What has happened, Sir Tolvar?” Kyrie and the Order knights had crowded their way past everyone, and the StarSeer stood in front of him.

“A fool’s mission,” Tolvar said.

“I am sorry.”

Tolvar wiped the blood onto his hose and unfolded the note.

The message was short and clear. Ashwin was in danger. Crevan had not signed this one.

Kyrie snatched the message away.

“We’re leaving,” she said to the captain .

“Wait!” Tolvar said. “’Tis too dangerous.”

“Casta and Maristel are there.” She cocked her head as if she knew what Tolvar would say next.

“You cannot ride there alone. Even a dozen men are not enough. Take my army.”

Behind him, murmurs slipped out.

“You and your army? Or only your army? I hear the prince’s wedding was moved. Are you still the keeper of your word?”

There would be no way to return to Asalle in time for the wedding if he himself led his army to Ashwin. ’Twas too far. But he would not suffer Crevan attacking Ashwin.

Sir Bernwald came out of the tent and met Tolvar’s eyes. Too much was happening at once.

“Only my army.”

The smoke was all too visible this morning. Tolvar kept seven men with him and Bernwald. He stared as the rest of his army left with Kyrie.

Bernwald had mentioned that he was well enough to ride as their commander, but Tolvar had flat out said nay. There had been a moment’s pause between them.

“I have been loyal to the Weslyn House for half a century, m’lord. And I continue to be.”

Tolvar had not retorted, which was almost worse. Bernwald held a sad look before snapping his mouth shut.

Scouts from Anscom had begged permission to enter and inquired what news came with the warning horn. With an entire army missing, ’twas evident something was amiss.

Tolvar scrawled out a brief message to Anscom that he’d been notified Ashwin was in danger. Mayhap he could finally break up this nonsense by directing their attention to a cause that actually mattered—the sacred city.

He wrote a similar note to Greenwood and sent it with Bernwald since he was the closet person standing there .

Splashing water on his face did naught. Tolvar again had to concede he couldn’t make a next move before getting some rest. He posted men around the camp and fell onto his cot, sleep overtaking him before he could remove his boots.

In the late afternoon, Tolvar roused himself; the distant din of battle could be heard.

“What’s happening?” Stars, he hated how much that question had escaped his mouth as of late.

“The battle resumed an hour ago, m’lord,” Herry, one of the knights, said.

“Why did no one wake me?” Tolvar growled before setting his mouth in a firm line.

Little wonder why someone would not want to wake him. Besides, what was he supposed to do now? Stand in the middle of the field by himself?

I suppose they did not reconcile after all. Nor take heed that Ashwin needed aid.

“Saddle Valko and your own steed, Herry. We’re paying Greenwood a visit.”

“They’ve ceased,” Herry said, cocking his head.

So they had. The battle noises halted.

“Where is Sir Bernwald?” Tolvar said before chugging a cup of water and wiping his chin.

“I know not, m’lord. He has not yet returned from his errand to Greenwood.”

“No one searched for him?”

“Nay, m’lord. Your orders were to remain here.” Herry’s voice squeaked as if ready for another outburst.

“So they were. Saddle those horses while I eat, and let us be on our way.”

When they entered Greenwood’s camp, Greenwood was hunched over a map.

He glanced up, marked them, and stood. “Tolvar, what a surprise.”

“After receiving my message, I am surprised to find you still here. ”

“What message?”

“The message that Bernwald delivered hours ago.”

“Sir Bernwald has not ventured here today.”

Tolvar scratched his beard. “Ashwin needs our aid.”

“Oh? What has occurred?”

“I have it on good authority they will soon be under attack.”

Greenwood stood. “Attack? From whom?”

Tolvar could not give the full truth. “An army of bandits. How many I cannot say, but I am certain you feel as I do that our knightly duty to the realm trumps any other matter.”

“That does not sound like much of a threat. And, Tolvar, you must consider how it would appear if I conceded and gave this up now.”

Tolvar barked out a laugh. “Come now. I know you heard the StarSeer was here yesterday and that you must know she sealed the crack. Before any further Curse is unburied, let us put this foolhardy battle to rest. Consider our duty.”

“Duty? Think you that I am not fulfilling my duties as the Earl of Greenwood?”

“But Ashwin?—”

“And why would you think I’d heard of any StarSeer here yesterday?”

“Anscom’s men saw her, of course.” Tolvar leaned back.

Greenwood shrugged, his beard twitching as he snorted. “I have not been in contact with Anscom for over a fortnight.”

Tolvar opened his mouth and then pressed his lips together.

“I suppose I assumed you would have been informed. Since that crack endangers us all, of course.”

“That is glad news it was sealed, to be certain.”

Tolvar’s eyes casually found their way around the camp. “’Tis awfully quiet around here. I heard the battle taking place. I would have thought that your camp would be in a ruckus right now.”

“Burying the dead.”

“I see. I am sorry for your losses. I suffered many yesterday, including a town of innocent people.”

“Stars. That’s horrible. Do you know who ’twas? ”

Tolvar tried to keep his pause as casual as the survey he conducted of Greenwood’s camp. “Nay.”

“I hope you catch them. And I hope you may understand why I cannot leave here to fight for Ashwin—Anscom’s deeds cannot go unpunished.”