Bloodletting Part 1: The Affinities Cycle Book 1 (6 page)

Chapter 13

Malthius Reynolds

Reynolds stood at attention in Lord Calhein Drayston’s main meeting chamber. Rather than using the main hall, Lord Drayston preferred his office. The room’s stone floors were covered with thick rugs and a massive fire blazed in the hearth. Bookshelves dominated the walls, instead of the usual tapestries in the rest of the castle. A giant oak round table, covered with maps of the Drayston lands, filled the center of the room. Lord Drayston sat in a chair across from him, his fingers steepled thoughtfully as he regarded his lieutenant.

The sergeant knew he should’ve taken the surgeon’s advice and headed for rest. Warmth filled the air, making him drowsy. Cinnamon, soaking in oils from small saucers hung around the chamber, spiced the air. Despite his drooping eyelids, owing his commander a report was his priority, and had to be dealt with before he indulged in luxuries like sleep. The scope of the oroc threat needed to be determined, and dealt with, before any other villages fell to such a tragedy. Even now the image of the burned shell of the village lingered behind his eyelids every time he blinked, the charred stench cloying in his nostrils.

Lord Drayston leaned over a map table, stroking his reddish beard while studying the border between his domain and the Rocmire. An ex-soldier himself, Calhein possessed a tactical mind Reynolds admired. While he now wore the forest-green robes of his office and his figure had grown stouter, he continued to don mail under his silks and kept a sword strapped to his waist at all times. Despite the white starting to pepper his hair, the castle’s lord still looked like a formidable warrior.

At last, Drayston harrumphed and straightened. “Sergeant, I must admit I’m having a difficult time with what you’ve told me. The past several centuries of our relationship with the orocs has been peaceful. Why would they attack now?”

Reynolds hitched his shoulders back. “Sir, every last man in my troop will avow all I’ve stated. We saw all the evidence we need to know the orocs were responsible. I don’t know why they would violate the treaties and attack us, but they did.”

Drayston waved a hand without looking at him. “Do be at ease, Sergeant. I can’t have you fainting from exhaustion while we figure this out.”

“Thank you, sir.” Reynolds relaxed his posture, but kept his eyes on the maps. He could envision the orocs tromping deeper into the forest with their captives, getting further from potential rescue with each moment. “We found numerous orocs weapons at the village, and the ones we encountered were prepared to battle. Earthspikes were all over, as well. Hundreds were impaled on them. If it wasn’t the orocs, then it was a human troop working very hard to make it look like an oroc attack. Which doesn’t track either. There’s no way a troop that large could’ve made it that far into our territory.”

Drayston rubbed at his brow, obviously frustrated. “It’s true that the use of both Tecton and Geist magic means that the attackers were either oroc or human. But which, Reynolds? Do you start to understand the surety with which I must present my findings to the king?”

“Sir, it must be the orocs, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Lord Drayston studied the maps. Reaching forward, he pulled the map of the Rocmire border closer. “And the fires? If you are so sure that it is orocs, how do you explain the fires? Why would they use a weapon which is taboo in their society?”

Reynolds shifted slightly, clasping his own wrist behind his back. “I cannot explain that, milord. My suspicion is that livestock escaped and knocked over a lantern, catching the village on fire. The sounds of the raid would have spooked the animals, and we didn’t find any living livestock. Even the dead were low in number, which leads me to believe that most of the animals simply fled the village.”

Drayston looked thoughtful. “So, you would have me believe …”

“That orocs attacked and slaughtered the villagers of Jaegen, sir. The only fact which doesn’t fit that is explainable. Does milord not agree with the facts of my report?”

“No, they are all good points. I believe you may be right. And I don’t doubt orocs attacked Jaegen and killed the villagers there.” Drayston’s shoulders slumped. “But it’s a question of whether
the
orocs are responsible or just these certain ones.”

“Sir? I’m not sure I follow.” Reynolds looked off into the air, just over Lord Drayston’s shoulder. He understood perfectly what his commander meant, but had learned as a young soldier that feigning ignorance was always the faster route to lead command to the right conclusion. Arguing just got a soldier disciplined.

Drayston sighed and planted meaty palms on the fine-grained wood of the table. “What we have here is an unprecedented opportunity. Should we choose, we could spark a whole new war between humans and orocs—but only if we decide to blame their species as a whole. But which do you think is more probable, Sergeant? That the orocs, a peaceable and secluded people, would disregard treaties and contracts that have stood inviolable for centuries? Or that what we’ve seen here is the independent—if shocking—act of a small band of hunters who were then eliminated by your men?”

“I don’t believe we caught up with the main force,” Reynolds said. “Five orocs could not have wiped out a settlement of over a thousand people.”

Drayston clasped hands behind his back. “That’s beside the point I’m making. What if this band acted without the sanction of their larger communities or leaders? What would you do then, Sergeant? No, don’t tell me. I can see it in your eyes. You would gather your men and ride into the Rocmire itself to repay the orocs in kind. You’d bring fire and blood to however many of their tree-bound settlements you could find.”

“My lord, this kind of attack demands a response. We can’t let them believe they’re able to get away with this.” Reynolds fists tightened behind his back.

Drayston twisted one of the rings on his fingers. “I fully intend to send a response—but not the sharp edge of a blade.”

Reynolds tried not to despair. “You mean to open diplomatic channels with them? Send a few written messages and requests for peaceful conversation after they invaded our land and slaughtered our people?” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but Lord Drayston’s eyes narrowed nonetheless.

“Yes,” he said, more forcefully. “Because, once again, we cannot prove this particular band of orocs is representative of their whole race. They may be rebels or criminals or a mere hunting party gone terribly wrong. Until we know for sure, we cannot be the ones to escalate this. The king would have my head if I provoked a war with the orocs.”

Reynolds briefly shut his eyes, envisioning the corpses littering the burning town. He kept his next words as measured as possible. “Sir, they took the children.”

Drayston glanced up from his maps, his brow creased. “What’s this?”

“When we surveyed the dead, we found no children among them. It’s my belief the orocs took them for some reason. I would request to lead a handful of men to scout the nearer reaches of the forest and see if we can find any trace of them or their captors.”

Drayston thumped a fist on the desk. “Think this through, Sergeant.
Think!
Don’t let your passion for revenge drive you. If they did take the children and the village youths didn’t happen to escape in the chaos—such as the one you found in the skirmish—what does that mean?” His brow furrowed. “It means they have prisoners. They have hostages, ones who could still be alive and who we could negotiate a safe return for. But only if we come at this in the right manner. I assure you, if I let you barge into their territory, attacking any orocs on sight, you’d be condemning those children to death.”

“But sir …”

“Enough, Sergeant. You found one child only after he launched his own assault on the orocs. Who’s to say the other children haven’t proven just as resourceful and are simply hiding in fear?” He came over and clasped Reynolds’ shoulders. “I will send scouts into the surrounding area. I will send messages to other towns and villages to put them on the defense. I will report to my superiors in Aldamere and let them know of this development. I will send couriers to the orocs leaders, demanding an explanation.” He turned away. “But what I will not do is tolerate you going off on a mission of vengeance and threatening what little peace remains in the land. Is this understood?”

Reynolds stiffened his posture again and bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

Spinning on a heel, he marched out, heading for his quarters. His body ached for rest; yet as he passed the main surgery chambers, a strangled cry from within made sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all this night.

***