Page 104 of A War Apart

“Don’t—” He gasped for air. “Don’t bother. I’m not—not going—”

“Don’t even think like that.” I eased him to the ground. “You’re going to be fine.”

Lada appeared at my side. Kneeling next to Konstantin, she examined the wound. With tight lips, she shook her head.

“You’re going to be just fine,” I choked out. “Have to get you home to that beautiful wife of yours, right?”

“Ulyana.” His mouth curved in a smile. “Going to—going to have a baby. In the spring.”

My eyes burned as I grasped his hand. “You’ll have to invite me to the blessing.”

“Tell him…” He gasped for breath, every word a struggle. “About me. My son.”

“I will.”

“Tell Ul—…thought—thought about her.” He gasped again. “…love her.”

“I’ll tell her.” I squeezed his hand, cold tears trickling down my face. “She knows, Kostya. She knows.”

“I’m going to take the ax out of his chest,” Lada said in a low voice. “It’s keeping the blood in, prolonging his suffering.”

Unable to speak past the lump in my throat, I nodded. Blood flowed slowly from the wound, so slowly, as I watched his final breaths, the chest rising and falling. One final, gurgling breath, and he was gone.

There wasn’t time to grieve. I’d left the rest of my men alone long enough. I stood, swallowed hard, and walked back to them.

The enemy was gone, but the army was in chaos. I looked around at dying men and riderless horses. Further up the road, a gap in the line indicated at least one supply sled had been captured. How much had we lost in this one, brief attack?

***

“How did this happen?” The tsar’s face was pale with anger.

We’d limped into camp late that night, once it was clear Miroslav’s men wouldn’t return, and the tsar had called a meeting as soon as we were settled.

“He knew we were coming,” Borislav hissed. “Someone must have told him.”

“I doubt that, your majesty.” Radomir’s voice was casual. I marveled that he could appear so at ease after the events of the evening. “Miroslav knows if he doesn’t attack us, we’ll take the fight to him. It’s no secret we left Sevken, and there’s only the one road between there and the capital large enough to easily transport an army. I’m sure he came to the conclusion without the help of traitors.”

“Prince Radomir is right,” I said. “Miroslav’s no fool.”

The tsar frowned, seeming unconvinced, but he let the matter rest for the moment. “How did they get past our scouts?”

Xhela na Zanik cleared her throat. “They took a southern road and attacked us from behind. It seems like it was a small unit, no more than a hundred, split into even smaller groups to make targeted attacks and cause as much chaos as possible.”

The tsar looked around the tent, face tight with anger. “Losses?”

“First estimates indicate upward of two hundred men lost, possibly as many as three,” Fyodor Yakovlevich answered, looking grim. “We also lost two cannons and three supply sleighs.”

So many men in such a short time. I gritted my teeth. The loss of supplies could be devastating, if we didn’t defeat Miroslav soon.

“Witness, Steward, and Prophet,” the tsar swore. Radomir gave him a sharp look at the blasphemy but seemed inclined to agree with the sentiment. “Three hundred men, three sleighs, and two cannons lost to ahundred men?”

“We can’t take another hit like that,” one of the commanders said. “We need to end this.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Borislav snapped. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Your man is right,” Yixa na Chekke said. “We must make it to the capital before they wear us down.”

Borislav stood and turned away from us with his hands clasped behind his back. “We will. Tomorrow morning, we split our forces. The units with the fewest casualties will make a forced march and take my brother by surprise. The other units can join as soon as possible. Once we reach the capital, we give the citizens three days to surrender Miroslav.” He turned back to us. “Or we destroy the city.”

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