Fear's Union

Chapter Ten

-Felip-

It was a ghost town. His town. Altunia; the capital of his realm and the seat of his family. To see it this way was deeply disturbing. It was penetration of the deepest kind, a blow to the core of Society. Such a blow could mean only one thing: he had failed.

The town itself was intact, but the life had been sucked right out of it. The streets were empty, only stray animals prowling the cobbles. It was only by the will of Rhanna that the situation wasn't immeasurably worse. And that was the best way to think about. It was a miracle. It had nothing to do with his damned sister.

He let his horse choose the route. The beast had trodden this path many times, and he was distracted. He gazed at the tall houses of the Old Town, appreciating the fine architecture like it was new to him. The damage was mercifully light: the odd overturned crate; a handful of broken windows; wisps of smoke snaking where a stable had been set alight. It was almost impossible that nearly a thousand Delfinians had stampeded through here not half a day ago, but of course it was possible. It was possible and very real. They had fled before him, but they had been here, at his home. They had invaded his home.

"Sir."

He followed the pointing had, spying a woman emerging from a house. She was dressed in her robes, colourful, and made up for a day in the market. She wore an expression of surprise, but little more than that. Yes, they had definitely been lucky. They had arrived with immaculate timing.

But his sister had at least some part in all this. He could not deny her absolute involvement.

When she'd left his camp, he was left with only shadows for company. The deep dark of the night crawled around him. He'd tried to sleep, but his rest was fitful at best. His dreams were littered with images of his wife and children and their possible fates. And that was enough. He could not leave it to chance. It was simple really.

Mother Bright was just caressing the horizon when he stormed from his tent and summoned his fastest messengers. A plea of apology flew to his grandfather shortly after, and his small army was marching in the opposite direction. Back to Altunia. It should have been a tortuous decision, abandoning his grandfather like that, but it wasn't. It was easy. If the risk existed, it was too high.

But of course, he needed to cover himself. But that was easy. If his sister was wrong then he would blame her stirring. But if she was right, then it had to be the correct decision. His grandfather would support him on this, of that he was sure.

A message arrived from the van and her claims were vindicated. She was right. She had a knack with that. Damn it and damn her. At least he had acted. He had to hope it was enough.

The scouts came back with dark news, and the pace was upped. Yes, his sister had an annoying knack for being correct. By the time the sun had reached the midday zenith, he was within sight of the walls. The Citadel withstood, only just, but at the appearance of his army and the blaring of his horns, the enemy fled. It had been immaculate timing.

That was such a fine sight, the flight of the enemy. The Delfinians. He was charged by the fight and invigorated by the victory, leading his cavalry in a chase after their scattered ranks. They didn't stand a chance. They chased the Delfinians to the estuary, cornering and butchering them. No mercy. Only a handful of officers escaped, but that was a small price. They had come so close to the edge, but they had been saved. His sister had saved them. He wiped his sabre clean and growled. He would not give her the plaudits.

He rode through the town, head high, bewildered by the fortune of it all. The damage was so light that he even considered muttering a prayer to the pagan god, the Father of Paths. Had the Father intervened? Such an act would be needless though. This was his family's realm and his God's realm. Any luck was their own.