Battlefields: Veil Walkers Book Three

Chapter Three

Denmark, 1387 CE - South Camp - Namid

"Thank you!" Namid called with a wave as they exited the mini-camp with yet another bowl of stew in hand. They took polite bites while talking to the soldiers and porters they came across. If they ate any more, neither would be fit to fight.

Once they were out of sight, Deza dumped the remaining stew from her bowl and stopped to rub the back of her neck.

"Everything okay?" Namid had stopped when she had, looking back with worry.

Deza lowered her hand and nodded. "Just out of sorts. I haven't had time to get used to being away from Galen."

Namid drew her into a hug and held her for a while, balancing his still-full bowl of stew on one hand. She accepted the embrace and hugged him back, so he waited. He wouldn't break the moment until she did, feeding her just a trickle of grounding energy while he was at it.

"Why?" she whispered, her face still buried in his chest.

Ah. She had felt it, then. He couldn't help but chuckle as she finally broke the hug. "Just a little something to help you feel like you're here, rather than halfway across the plain." He left her to contemplate those words while he emptied his bowl. "You'd think the mix of stews would be enough to make the 'we are here' point, though."

Deza chuckled as she abandoned her bowl on the grass and Namid followed suit. "Eventually, we'll come across someone who has seen something suspicious. There can't be at least six demons in a camp and people not know they are here."

"They might not be in this part. For all we know, they're all to the north, or trying to get to the queen." Namid said as he led the way between tents, stepping carefully between guylines. They commandeered an abandoned lantern and made better time, trading it back and forth as they went.

He heard Deza sigh as they came upon another group of porters around a campfire. Namid hesitated at her reaction and waited for her signal before they continued. Until a demon showed its face, they were in no rush. Better to take the time and keep Deza's mental state intact than rush her into situations.

After a few minutes, she nodded. Together, they stepped into the fire's illumination and put on their best smiles. Several men in various stages of intoxication greeted them with cheers and raised cups all around.

"Come, brother! Join us! We have honey mead to spare and plenty of sweet bread to go with it!" One man called joyously.

The man to his right guffawed. "Have some courtesy, man. Can't you see he's on patrol? He's out here protecting us from the likes of his crazy sword-kin. At least get him a clean mug!"

With a grunt, the first man rose and shuffled toward the mead barrel. Namid nodded toward the fire, and Deza moved with him.

Namid took the drunken man's wooden crate, adjusted the padded cushion, and grinned at the second man. "Crazy sword-kin. That's one I haven't heard before. Mind filling me in?"

The second man laughed brightly and motioned with his mug, spilling some of the honey mead on Deza as she squatted down beside Namid.

Deza made a disgusted sound and tried to brush the liquid away while the man spoke.

"Oh, sorry, sweetling," the man acknowledged his mistake to Deza, then looked back to Namid. "Your girl's gonna smell like mead, so don't be angry with her. Any rate, there's been talk from servants comin' this way in the past 'lil bit. A couple of camps up 'nd to the right, they're sayin' there's two commanders bein' right abusive to they own servants and the public ones, clean unwarranted, they say."