Page 92 of Silver & Smoke
‘Thanks for that,’ Darian muttered with a roll of his eyes.
Vernich’s hardened expression didn’t abate, his lip curling as he surveyed Darian’s fine clothes and polished boots.
‘Vernich,’ Wilder intervened, ‘who else is here? How many?’
With a muscle twitching in his jaw, the older Warsword tore his gaze away from the nobleman and returned his attention to the group. ‘About two hundred people, give or take—’
‘Two hundred?’ Wren exclaimed, clapping her hand over her mouth as though surprised by her own outburst.
Vernich nodded. ‘It’s become a haven of sorts, for people from all over the midrealms who needed to go into hiding. There are Guardians of Thezmarr here too, warriors we found injured and healed as best we could, who then stayed on to defend the Warren if need be. For the past few months, I’ve been recruiting too... There are many here who would be willing to fight, for the right leader.’
Torj tried not to let himself hope. Vernich had already saved their asses once – he couldn’t possibly have gathered an army for them. Could he?
‘What happened to you?’ he asked his fellow Warsword instead. ‘We were told you were killed. That’s how we found your mace—’
‘Along with these.’ Kipp produced something from his pack. Thankfully, the alchemists had thought to preserve them in a small jar, rather than let them rot: the three fingers they’d found with Vernich’s weapon.
‘For fuck’s sake, Kipp! You took those off the fucking pyre too?’ Cal snapped, his whole face scrunching in disgust. ‘That’s just foul—’
‘I thought whoever they belong to might want them back,’ thestrategist shrugged, still holding up the glass vessel, the severed digits floating inside.
Thankfully, Vernich snatched them from him and examined them through the glass. His nose wrinkled before he tossed the jar back. ‘I doubt they’ll be of much use to Graves now. But yes. We were attacked and captured just outside of my village. So much for fishing and fucking retirement,’ he muttered. ‘They used some sort of poison on us – me and two other Warswords. We managed to escape a few days later. But the blade they’d used on Graves had been contaminated. She was in bad shape. I brought us here in the hopes that there might be some supplies left in the place... We found a whole settlement instead.’
Torj couldn’t believe it. All this time in Delmira, there had been life beneath the ashes... All that time Wren had roamed her own ruined kingdom, there were people here after all.
‘Why let us believe you were dead?’ Torj asked. ‘What have you been doing all this time?’
‘The usurper has spies everywhere, Elderbrock. If Thezmarr believed me dead, so would he. Better he underestimates your Warsword numbers. As for what we’ve been doing here... We’ve been waiting, preparing.’
‘How many are in fighting shape?’ Darian asked. Torj could practically see the calculations whirring in his mind. The nobleman had always been good at understanding the advantage and making the most of it, which was exactly what he was trying to do now, though it wasn’t going down all too well. Vernich’s eyes narrowed again, but Darian pressed on. ‘We need as many in our army as possible, and as we’re fighting for the survival of the midrealms, it stands to reason that the people here partake as well...’
Beside Torj, Wren flinched. ‘We can’t just come here and ask them to fight for us.’
‘Why not? They’re people of the midrealms too. They’ve seen what Silas is capable of, or they wouldn’t be here,’ Darian argued.
‘Ask them whatever you like,’ Vernich interjected, his tone flat.‘Just don’t count on their numbers. Some came here for safety, not more violence. Though I assure you there are plenty among us who have a taste for revenge.’
Wren shot the older Warsword a grateful look and Torj fought the urge to take her hand in his, to soothe the magic he could feel rolling off her in waves. Instead, he addressed Vernich again. ‘How long did you spend in captivity? What can you tell us of Silas?’
The Bloodletter’s fists clenched at his sides. ‘Too long. And I can tell you that he’s more monster than any of those fucking wraiths we fought in the last war...’
‘How so?’ Thea asked. ‘We need every piece of information we can get our hands on if we are to defeat him.’
At last, Vernich took a seat on one of the logs. ‘From what I understand, Silas started out wanting to suppress certain types of magic... The strength of the Warswords, the power of each of the rulers. Where we were being held, we heard many conversations about it, saw the alchemy at work for ourselves. My full strength has only just returned recently after my time as a prisoner.’
The Bloodletter’s words were steeped in fury, and Torj was no stranger to the note of self-loathing there too. His fellow Warsword blamed himself; that much was clear.
‘He’s using shadow magic too,’ Vernich continued, shaking his head. ‘Collecting remnants from the previous war and somehow harvesting what little darkness remains. It seems he can extract it – from bones, from the horns and talons of the monsters... It’s not what it was, not lashing cords of power, but it’s enough to corrupt other things. Alchemy, men and, by the looks of things, his own magic.’
‘We know, but how does that manifest?’ Zavier called out.
Vernich’s gaze fell on the young man with the same discerning look he’d given Darian. ‘Another posh git?’
‘To a certain extent.’ Zavier shrugged. ‘Zavier Terling. Crown Prince of Naarva.’
Vernich blinked at him several times before looking to Torj for confirmation, disbelief etched on his face.
‘It’s true,’ Torj confirmed.
