[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
Seamus shook his head. “How could I and why would I? If anyone’s got any chance in hell of getting them to talk before they attack, it’s going to be her. She can offer the bastard his life—she can tell him that he’ll live if he turns back and he might actually believe it.” He sighed. “And if that doesn’t work, I’m sure she’s got a plan. She usually does and I’m sure she’s playing things ridiculously close to the vest.”
I stared at him, jaw tightening. “You should have gone with her.”
“Someone had to stay on the wall and make sure Thordin didn’t go off after her.”
“Congratulations. You still have that job and you get to convince him that this was a good idea.”
He winced but didn’t say anything, turning his attention back to the field. I got myself situated next to him, readying my bow.
The line of clouds heralding the storm had slowed slightly, though it hadn’t stopped moving. I could see the figure leading it now, a broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak, a shadow on the landscape. “Who was he then?” I asked Seamus, my eyes narrowing slightly, as if that would give me a better view of the enemy.
At least it looks like he’s alone—but that squall-line is following him. That’s never a good sign.
His being alone also made me wonder where his backup was lurking. On wings, in the storm? Hidden to our eye like the Greys could be?
Or something worse, something more horrifying than either of those possibilities?
“He was from Aegyptus,” Seamus said quietly. “One of the southern groups.”
“Southrons?”
The ghost of a smile curved Seamus’s lips and then vanished in the space of a few heartbeats. “Yes and no. We didn’t tangle with them so much as some of the others did. They were a southern group without falling into the term. Does that…does that make sense? They warred with the Southrons as much as we did, sometimes.”
It did and it didn’t, but I was willing to let that much go—it was thousands of miles and thousands of years away by now. “Right. Keep going.”
Seamus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He was one of the mid-level powers there—not in charge, but not a peon, either. A hunting god, which is how I think he ran afoul of Thordin in the first place—ranging too far afield of territory and a lot of rot like that. I don’t know. There was a lot going on during the wars and I couldn’t track all of it.”
“Well, you guys had your own problems to keep track of.”
“There is that.” Seamus shifted his weight slightly, repositioning next to me at the top of the wall. “There was the matter of a little war we were fighting.”
“Little,” I said, then snorted. “Right. Master of understatement right here next to me.” I swallowed, tasting bile at the back of my throat. “Give me the short answer, since she’s almost reached him. How dangerous is he?”
“As dangerous as a hunter gets, especially when backed into a corner.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just great.”
