377 days until the Arkon Shield falls

Nexus, stop dithering. Activate the programs. Both of them. —Mother.

No one else died that night, but the toll of our dead was already gut-wrenching. The boars had killed nearly four dozen spearmen. However, neither I nor the rest of the expedition had any attention to spare the dead that night.

The living needed us more.

The female boar was not long in dying, and the male boar was already dead by the time I’d healed Petrov. Still, both corpses had to be dragged away and disposed of lest they attracted other predators. Marcus took care of that gory task while I tended to the injured, and Petrov, despite still being weak from his healing, saw to reinforcing our defenses.

It was grim and bloody work all around, and by the time dawn arrived, everyone was exhausted. Even then, we couldn’t rest. The dead still had to be tended to. After we had cared for their remains, I slumped down cross-legged at a campfire. Bowing my head, I wondered what we should have done differently.

“It’s my fault,” Marcus said suddenly.

I looked up at the blonde captain sitting across me from the fire.

He met my gaze. “I shouldn’t have pressed us so hard yesterday.” Soot stained his face, and his eyes glinted with angry tears. “We should have made camp earlier. We should have fortified the glade. We should have posted more guards. I should have made sure—”

“That’s enough,” Petrov said from the other side.

The big man had recovered fully from his wounds, but I could see in his eyes the trauma still haunted him. He had barely said anything since the battle’s end.

“We’ve made mistakes,” Petrov went on, “but recriminations are not what we need now.” He held his fellow commander’s gaze. “Learn from this, Captain. Do better next time.”

Marcus stiffened under Petrov’s gaze, but he jerked his head in acknowledgment. “I will,” he said quietly.

A spearman ran up to the campfire. “Sir,” he began, addressing Marcus, “the crafters are waiting.”

Marcus nodded solemnly and rose to his feet, Petrov and I with him. With Marcus leading the way, we made our way back to the eastern end of the camp.

No one had gotten a wink of sleep since the attack last night. Everyone had been up digging trenches or standing watch in case of further attacks.

And, of course, burying our dead.

I stared at the five rows of mounds on the forest floor. Most of those who had died last night were soldiers, but a handful of crafters had perished too.

Fifty-five dead.

We had lost nearly ten percent of the convoy in a single attack. A large man stepped forward from the mixed crowd of soldiers and crafters gathered around the mounds. It was Soren, the head builder. I hadn’t realized that he had chosen to accompany the expedition himself. I supposed it reinforced the importance of our mission.

“We’re ready,” Soren began.

Marcus nodded. “Go ahead.”

We formed a solemn line behind the crafter as he gave our dead their last rites. One by one, he recited the names of all the fallen, their deeds, and what they had accomplished while the rest of us bore silent witness to their sacrifice.

✽✽✽

Hours later, after resting as long as we dared, the expedition was packed and made ready to begin our journey anew, albeit in a more subdued fashion.

The long column of men, women, and sleds had barely snaked out of the glade, though, when the scouts returned with news. I was with Petrov and Marcus discussing the day’s journey when Laura and Cassandra burst out of the foliage. Spotting us, the pair hurried our way. One look at their grim faces, and I knew the news wasn’t good.

What now? I wondered bleakly.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked, sensing the same.

“Orcs,” Cass blurted out.

Petrov’s hand flew to the warhammer on his belt. “Where? How far?”

Laura shook her head. “Not close. They’re camped at the red dungeon.”

My heart sank. “At the dungeon? You sure?”

She nodded grimly. “Yes. There are two full squads of them in the dungeon clearing.”

Marcus’ eyes widened. “Twenty orcs? What are they doing there?”

“Guarding the dungeon,” I replied grimly. “They’re here to stop us from using it.”

Marcus flung up his hand and swung around to address the line of sergeants behind us. “Order the men to hold in place.”

I stared at the scout captain in surprise. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at me. “Stopping the convoy,” he said. At my and Petrov’s mystified looks, he added, “Isn’t it obvious? We can’t go on. Twenty orcs are more than we can face, especially after last night.”

“That’s a lot of orcs,” I agreed. “But our mission is too important. You’re not thinking of turning around, are you?”

Marcus’ lips thinned. “I decided already. We have no other choice.”

I stared at him, aghast. “We cannot.”

The scout captain sighed. “Look, Jamie. I know you want to go on. I do too, but how can we face twenty orcs?” Before I could answer, he spun to the scouts. “Laura, what can you tell us about their levels and disposition?”

“We got close enough to analyze them,” the red-head said.

I frowned.

Seeing my expression, Laura explained. “The orcs showed no sign of stirring from the clearing, and we judged it safe to observe them from the treeline.” She shrugged. “I don’t think they had any scouts of their own.”

Marcus gestured impatiently. “We understand all that. Now go on, and tell us what you saw.”

“The orcs are all Seasoned warriors,” Laura replied. “Level one hundred and twenty, or above.”

I winced but didn’t comment.

“And their equipment?” Marcus asked.

“One squad appears to be heavy troopers, armored in full plate mail and bearing two-handed weapons. The other is a medium infantry squad. They’re wearing chainmail and carrying maces and shields.”

Marcus turned back to me. “You hear that, Jamie? They’re well-armed too. How do we defeat that with only one hundred and fifty soldiers?”

I folded my arms and stared at him. “We have to try,” I said. “We owe it to our dead.”

Marcus’ face reddened. “Believe me, I know what we owe the dead. And if there were any way I could see to defeat the orcs, I would grab it.”

I didn’t respond to his words but turned to the scouts myself. “Laura, Cass, were there any spellcasters amongst the orcs?”

Both shook their heads.

I glanced at Petrov. The bearded giant hadn’t said anything yet, but I knew I needed his help. I wasn’t going to convince Marcus on my own.

Petrov caught my look and gave an imperceptible nod. I relaxed. Good, I thought. He thought we should go on too.

“We can call for reinforcements,” the big fighter said at last.

Marcus cast him a startled look. “Reinforcements?”

Petrov nodded. “From Sierra. Given our ladened sleds, we have not made good time through the forest. If we send a runner back to the village now, we could have a few more squads of soldiers join us by day’s end.”

Marcus’ eyes narrowed as he studied his fellow captain. “You think the commander will spare us more men? Sierra’s forces are stretched thin as it is.”

“She will,” Petrov said. No hint of doubt marred his voice. “This mission is too important.”

Marcus stared at the bearded giant for a long measuring moment before conceding. “All right. We’ll head back to the glade and wait for the old lady’s response. If she reinforces us, we’ll go on.”

Petrov shook his head. “We can’t afford the delay. Let’s forge on today and position ourselves for an early strike tomorrow, or even an ambush tonight.”

“No,” Marcus said. “That’s too—”

“Where’s the harm?” I asked, cutting in. “As long as we stay well away from the dungeon clearing, the orcs will be none the wiser of our presence. And if the commander chooses not to reinforce us, we retreat tomorrow.”

The blonde captain hesitated.

“Please, Marcus,” I added. “We must try.”

Marcus met my gaze, then jerked his head once in a nod. “All right,” he conceded, glancing between Petrov and me. “We’ll do it your way.”