Page 44 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

TOLVAR

T he impending nightfall be damned, Tolvar could no longer wait to hear if Anscom would answer his call to aid Ashwin.

He took three men and rode to Anscom’s camp by way of one short detour.

He wanted the satisfaction that Kyrie’s seal held against the crack.

The overhead trees made the last of evening’s light impossible, but he’d brought with them two lanterns.

The only detection that Tolvar could make that the crack had ever been there was an absence of any foliage or pebbles along where the split had gouged the ground.

’Twas as if someone had taken a spade and dragged it in a jagged line over the dirt.

Appeased that naught else appeared disturbed, they continued on their way to Anscom’s camp.

This time, they were halted along the perimeter.

“What is it now, Lord Tolvar?” Sir Jenz asked, coming out of the shadows.

“Tell Turas we must speak. I shall wait,” Tolvar said, as he and his men dismounted. Valko nudged him as if in comfort. Tolvar absently stroked his neck. These knights with him were adequate, but they weren’t Ghlee or even Gus .

Gus. Tolvar’s stomach knotted again.

They stood at the edge of the trees as Sir Jenz sauntered off.

The night’s warm breeze indicated midsummer.

The prince’s betrothal ceremony was nigh, as was his wedding.

Whatever happened here with Turas and Greenwood, ’twas time that Tolvar returned to Asalle.

He’d already conceded to sending his army without him.

There was no contemplating what might have been.

As Kyrie had said, the future was ahead of him.

As soon as the prince’s marriage was sealed, he would find and ensure that Crevan was brought to justice.

Ashwin had a sizeable army. Between theirs and Tolvar’s, the city would be safe. Even if Turas gave the same answer as Greenwood. The ancient city had never been breached. Although Tolvar wondered if it had ever been attacked.

Crevan was truly mad.

If darkness cannot be raised, then I shall bring down the light.

Madness.

Herry shifted onto a twig; it snapped. The quartet went for their swords. These three were on the ready. That was good, Tolvar nodded to himself.

Groups of knights sat around cookfires or at a few wooden tables eating their evening meal. Venison, by the gamey smell of it.

Bernwald’s favorite, if Tolvar’s memory served him correctly.

His jaw set as he adjusted his stance and focused on the direction of Turas’s tent.

Bernwald had still not reappeared this afternoon.

When Tolvar had asked more questions about his disappearance, Timth finally voiced his concern that Sir Bernwald hadn’t behaved normally since he returned from Trysinmar’s fire.

When Tolvar had pressed, Lerl had agreed and mentioned their commander had not slept nor even sat still.

Guilt?

Bernwald had been his father’s most trusted knight. He’d fought and been wounded in the attack on Thorin Court. ’Twas unthinkable he could be disloyal now. That would make no sense.

“Lord Turas will see you now, m’lord,” Sir Jenz said.

Tolvar handed Valko’s reins to Herry and followed Sir Jenz .

In Turas’s tent, Tolvar was offered a seat, followed by a cup of wine, which he waved away. Water was placed before him instead. A few moments’ exchange of mindless pleasantries, however, had him glancing at the full wine goblet in the corner.

“Will you truly not send men to Ashwin?” Tolvar asked.

“Tolvar, we have already discussed my thoughts on you inserting yourself in my affairs.” Turas swallowed the contents of his goblet. “Ashwin can hold their own, surely. Besides, you sent your army. Do you not trust in their skill?”

Tolvar frowned. “Aye. But we are all bound to the StarSeers.”

“Speaking of,” Turas said, taking a handful of dried dew fruit from a bowl and chuckling to himself. “Sir Jenz and his men certainly have been preoccupied with that StarSeer.”

“We are fortunate she answered our call,” Tolvar said, turning away from Turas’s open-mouthed chewing.

“Indeed,” he replied, plainly missing Tolvar’s dig.

“Do you not think we should alert Greenwood that the crack has been sealed?” Tolvar said, studying his cup of water as if he might will it into becoming ale. “’Twas a danger to everyone.”

“I suppose you’re right, Tolvar. I shall send a message on the morrow.”

Tolvar kept his forehead relaxed. Patience. Forebearance.

“Why the battle today, Turas? Do you not agree that this is becoming beyond pointless? Sitting here like grazing cattle. Then trading wounds. Even killing each other. Let us parley tomorrow so we can all return to our business. I know you feel as I do that you do not want more blood on your hands.”

Turas sat forward. “Blood on my hands? What about Greenwood’s hands? Or yours, for that matter. I hear a town of yours is now ashes. Why do not you attend to your own business and leave me to mine.”

“Killing each other in a senseless battle isn’t the same matter, Turas. You could have stopped today’s.”

“Today’s? I did not kill anyone today.”

Tolvar gazed at the ceiling before rubbing a hand across his face. “Very well, not you. But your men did. ”

“Nay, they did not. No one was killed today.”

Tolvar tightened his grip on his cup. “No one? You swear to it?”

Turas leaned back in his chair and set down his goblet. “Swear? Bold words, Tolvar. But, aye, if you need that for whatever righteous indignation you are carrying around this time, my men killed no one today. I swear.”

“Very well,” Tolvar managed, standing.

“I shall consider your words.”

“About Ashwin?”

“Nay, but stars know I am needed back in Blagdon. Another four carts of exports went missing in the North Forest.”

Tolvar had almost forgotten about the North Forest. Another log to pile onto this flaming mess.

“I’ll send a message come morning.” Turas opened the flap of the tent for Tolvar to exit.

Tolvar and his men had almost made it to the Askella border when he jerked Valko’s reins to a halt.

“Change of course. Come.” Tolvar maneuvered Valko in the opposite direction and trotted back to Anscom’s camp.

They skirted the perimeter of the camp, hidden in the trees and letting the campfires guide them to the spot Tolvar sought.

Near the edge that bordered the main road leading back to Blagdon, Tolvar slid off Valko but silently signaled for the men to stay on their mounts.

He gave Valko’s reins to Herry and crept into Anscom’s camp.

Here, there were pallets of supplies, with a few wagons still filled with what must have been delivered today.

Two sentries stood facing the road, their backs to Tolvar.

Some yards away was a gigantic pile of hay that stood next to a makeshift corral.

Lining that was various tools. Pitchforks, a rake, and a half-dozen spades.

Tolvar grabbed two spades and tiptoed back to where his men waited.

“What are those for?” Herry whispered as he handed Valko’s reins to Tolvar after he’d strapped the spades to his saddle.

“Surety.”

They continued their methodical, quiet ride around the far circumference of Anscom’s camp, past the open field, until they reached the east border of Greenwood’s camp, far opposite of Askella’s camp.

Silently, Tolvar dismounted in a cluster of trees and tied Valko to a branch. Herry and the others did likewise as Tolvar fetched the spades.

Tolvar stood under the cover of the trees. Listening. Waiting. Eyes searching. Other than a few scratching noises from a woodland creature, all was quiet. Before him was a field drawn with a stretch of overturned earth. Beyond that, campfire lights from Greenwood’s camp dotted the distance.

“What is this place?” Herry whispered.

“A mass graveyard.”

The knights exchanged glances. “Why are we here?” Timth asked. “M’lord?”

Ghlee’s first message about Himmex had given Tolvar an idea. Would it not have been wild to discover ’twas all a hoax? Coupled with Ghlee’s more ominous message— the dead walking —Tolvar had to be sure.

Greenwood and Turas had met. And they’d both kept that from him. But their stories had conflicted.

When Tolvar was certain that no sentry lurked in the shadows, he stepped onto the field and walked to the mound of dirt, the others following.

He crouched, taking a handful. It crumbled in his fingers.

Dry, aye, but it didn’t necessarily mean that dirt hadn’t been moved today. It hadn’t rained for some time.

The spade went to work.

Herry took the other spade and began digging, too.

When they stood in the hole up to their thighs, the other two took a turn. Digging and digging.

When ’twas clear that there was nothing here—no bodies—they moved some yards away and dug a second hole. Nothing. A third hole revealed the same.

Tolvar stuck the spade into the earth so it stood upright; he paced away to think.

No bodies .

Herry followed, his face grim in the moonlight. “M’lord, what can this mean?”

All a hoax. The hairs on his arms stood up. All a hoax.

“Nothing good. Let’s dig one more. To be certain.”

’Twas as if some madness drove Tolvar to dig the fourth hole. When he stood at the bottom, the hole’s top far above his head, his back and shoulders burning, his stomach plunged.

There was little time to waste.

“Help me out,” Tolvar said, grabbing Herry’s hand. When he stood on the field again, he assessed they probably had two hours until dawn.

“First task is to fill these holes. No one must suspect we’ve been here.” The three nodded, and two went to work, the spades moving quickly.

“And then?” Herry asked.

“I have no idea what is at play for these two here, but one thing is certain: we have been played for fools, and we need to find out what is afoot. When we’re finished here, return the way we came and check on the crack again before informing the others at camp what we’ve learned.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

“Lord Tolvar, you’d better see this,” Timth said from the edge of the hole he’d started to fill.

Tolvar and Herry stood next to him and peered into the hole. The piercing of black splitting through the bottom was faint, but they were all familiar with the signs now. The Curse of Adrienne.

Stars.

Greenwood wasn’t foolish enough to try to unbury the Curse of Adrienne. This, like the other, had to be an accident. It left naught of Greenwood’s deceit to the imagination.

“Keep burying it.”

“M’lord?”

“We cannot leave sign that we were here. We shall have to return and tell the Seers or…something. Later. Dawn comes, and we cannot be on this field. We are too exposed here.”

Dawn smirked across the field as they gathered their horses .

“Give Anscom’s camp a wide berth,” Tolvar commanded. “I shall meet you back at our camp in one hour’s time.”

“Aye, m’lord.” The three trotted off, taking the spades with them to leave on the edge of Turas’s camp. When the tools were discovered, someone would assume some page had been lazy.

Tolvar brushed off his clammy hands on the leg of his hose. King Rian needed to be informed of what occurred. Tolvar did not yet understand all the details, but ’twas certain there was a reason Greenwood had begged the sovereign for aid. A reason riddled in deception.

Tolvar cursed that there was no raven at his camp.

Their messages had been going in and out from Lessio, which was a four-hour ride.

That would have to do. Mayhap the village of Treehorn had one?

That was closer. Bernwald would know for certain.

Tolvar had to find him. Find out, once and for all, if Bernwald played a hand in all this. The sinking feeling deepened.