Chapter 438: A Path Forward
"Tuscans, spread across the front, one man per column," Lennart bellowed, quickly arranging Nyrielle’s army into a flexible formation for battle. "Captain Virve, gather our men directly behind the Tuscans. They are our breaching force if needed, but too many of the rest are irregulars. I want our men in the lead if we have to charge," he called, directing the flow of men to give them the best chances of responding if things turned violent again.
Whether he was preparing his men to assault the castle and reinforce Sir Savis and Sir Tausau on the walls or creating an opportunity for Lady Ashlynn to escape, he didn’t know. At the moment, he badly wished that Commander Bassinger was here with his years of experience fighting in the previous war against the Lothians.
Even more than that, however, he wished that he was standing somewhere else on this battlefield. He didn’t begrudge Zedya’s move to join Sir Ignatious at all, and in fact, he was grateful that the mesmerizing vampire was closer to Lady Ashlynn if things fell to violence again. Only, in his heart, he hated that he wasn’t able to face the greater danger together with her.
At the moment, they each had their roles to play and it fell to him to organize Nyrielle’s ordinary forces while those with greater strength faced more immediate danger but in the future... In the future, his place would be wherever Zedya’s place was.
"Now I understand what you meant about feeling like we’re running out of time," he said quietly as his eyes turned to the space between the army and the fortress where Lady Ashlynn faced off against the young Frost Walker lord. Neither Zedya nor Ignatious seemed to be able to step within fifty paces of the burning blade in Lady Ashlynn’s hand, but when it came to power like the pillar of flame that the Mother of Trees had unleashed, did fifty paces really count for anything?
Silently, Lennart resolved himself to give his answer to Zedya as soon as they returned to the Vale of Mists. For now, he could only hope that the Frost Walkers would see reason and stand down from further violence tonight.
"Your Dominion," Kimsel began politely, taking control of Hauke’s body and offering a slight bow in Ashlynn’s direction while placing the tip of Eraric’s sword on the icy ground in a gesture that she did not intend to fight. At lease, not at the moment.
"You have grown significantly since last I saw you," Kimsel added, her aged voice sounding even more incongruent from Hauke’s youthful face than Ansgar’s booming one had. As she moved, her posture shifted, becoming hunched and leaning slightly on the runic blade, treating it much like the old woman would have treated a cane, even though Hauke’s body was young and full of vigor. "Six months ago, you would not have been our match."
"You’ve grown more lucid since last I spoke with you," Ashlynn replied, refusing to match the ancestral spirit’s gesture of lowering her blade. "Six months ago, you were deranged and barely capable of speaking in complete sentences. My friend Hauke must have worked hard to restore you, but you’ve repaid his kindness with heartless treachery."