Blood Harvest

"We've seen no signs of violence, Isranon." Nevin leaned farther across the table. "No bones, no bodies, nothing except empty houses, abandoned barns. Many of the goods are still in the shops."

"I intend to see it," Isranon persisted. "I will go in ahead of the army, with a small unit."

Nans exchanged glances with Freyrick, her aide-de-camp. She had picked him up in Ocealay partly to act as a go-between herself and the other kandoyarin groups as well as to give her suggestions on how all the new myn could be expected act in given situations and how best to deploy them.

"You shouldn't risk yourself, Isranon." Nans' sapphire eyes hardened, and she fingered her long braid of cinnamon hair. "That's not a good idea,"

Travis rubbed under his nose uncomfortably and scanned the faces. He raised his hands in a fending off gesture as if expecting criticism. "Don't get me wrong, but I think you're reading too much into this, Isranon."

Isranon nailed Travis into his chair with a glance. "Am I? Granted these people could have accepted their priests' warnings and fled north with the Sacred King. I'm told that the vanguard was like a city on the move. However, it isn't easy to give up one's home of generations. Look what happened to the east bank city-states."

"The people of the city-states had more reason to stay." Freyrick glanced at Nans to be certain that he was not speaking out of turn, and at her nod, continued. "For centuries, they were safe behind their walls. How could they have known that something had finally risen that they could not fight? We certainly didn't."

Isranon lowered his head a moment, staring at his hands. "I will have Anksha with me."

Anksha bared her fangs in a broad grin. "Might find demons for baby." She rubbed her belly where Isranon's magical child was growing. "He's hungry."

Isranon glanced sidewise at her, a small smile touching his lips as he reached under the table and pressed his hand to his wife's stomach. He was no longer her blood-slave, and she was no longer his master; yet no one had expected him to bind himself to her in marriage after years of reaching for his freedom. "If we find a demon, by all means eat it."

Anksha simpered prettily, and a chuckle ran around the table.

Isranon rapped the pommel of his belt knife on the table to retrieve his officers' attention. "I've been reading Josiah's journals. There are things that can consume a town or village and leave no remains to be found."

Around the table settled a silence, one finally broken by Amiri, the Ymraude bio-magicalist and bio-alchemist. "Like what?" Amiri wove her fingers through the beaded cornrows of her nappy hair.

"Like the brymaparusha, which eats even the bones of its victims, or the lamiae." Isranon ran his gaze across all of their faces, meeting every set of eyes, and holding each just long enough to communicate his absolute self-assurance and determination. "I'm doing this because I'm the only mage we have. When we reach Ildyrsetts, I intend to recruit mages. Then this duty will be shared. But until then, I need to do it."

With reluctance, murmurs of acceptance came around the table.

"From now on when an abandoned or nearly abandoned town or village is discovered the scouts will not go beyond the outer perimeter without me."

As the meeting broke up, Isranon gestured for Amiri to remain. "Have Randilyn bring me a couple of nibari."

Amiri frowned deeply, studying him with her head slightly tilted. "Isranon, you just fed hours ago."

Isranon rubbed his neck, bowing his head at the faint disapprobation in her tone. Not too many months ago that he would have agreed to whatever suggestions and orders she gave him in her role as one of his mentors. Much had changed since he stepped more fully into his role as leader of his disparate peoples, but in some areas, she could still make him question his actions. "I can't help it. I'm famished."

"Perhaps you should have some lunch."

"I — I want blood."

Amiri tugged at her hair. "Are you hurting again? You spent a good deal of power shielding the children's tents."

"A little." Isranon's eyes went distant. A year and a half ago, he had received copious wounds from the four blades wrought by the Master of Blood with Mondarius' divinator runes. While his attackers cut and stabbed him, they stole his ability to heal with normal blood. The injuries never healed right, and the embedded spells left in his body by the blades frequently caused the wounds to recreate themselves to varying degrees whenever he used his magic, and sometimes even when he did not. "I appreciate your concern."

GODWAR CENTRAL

Blood Harvest