Page 97 of Silverbow
“Ryland’s Rebellion was two hundred years ago.” She’d known Bade had been there and she’d gathered they all had to be immortal, but she hadn’t asked how oldimmortalreally was.
“Two hundred and twenty-three,” Colm corrected.
Light.Enya sifted through the legends and lore she’d heard around fires, trying to place Elred’s Eagle. “You…you led the southern legion?”
“I led the men of Eastwood,” Bade answered bitterly. “What was left of them.”
Enya marveled, but the other bits of that story came floating up from the dregs of her memory, and she shifted uncomfortably. “You sacked every city in the South.”
“The South was in open rebellion,” Colm answered. “When Itham fell, his sons took up the cause.”
Ryland House had been scrubbed from the pages of history at the end of that war. “Is that why you took their heads?”
Bade spat. “Thatwas your Princess General’s doing. Thought the fool boys didn’t give her much choice. Refused to bend the knee even after it was over.”
Enya blinked. The stories told of Eastwood’s revenge in a savage onslaught against the South. But it was her fascination with Anala Trakbatten that won out. Estryia’s great Seconds, the sisters to the queens, were as preserved in lore as Sana Silverbow. “What was she like?” She asked in wonder.
“Ask the spirit wielder.”
Enya swiveled to Colm. He reclined on an elbow, gazing at the tiny ball of flame that flickered without any kindling. “Good woman, great general.”
Aiden snickered. Enya blinked as Bade’s scowl was replaced by a smirk. Oryn scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed.
“Well?”
“Fire made flesh, the bards call her. She was perhaps the last great Second Estryia ever had. Deadly on the field, bonded to the meanest orange morningstar the Vale has ever seen. Bimrei was his name. Even the dragon keepers shied from him. But Anala was loved by her people.”
Bade gave a snort of laughter that made Enya jump.
“They weren’t the only ones who loved Anala,” Aiden muttered.
Enya blinked again.Colm?The spirit wielder gave him a flat, bored look.
“She knew every man in her camp on sight. Knew their names, where they were from, who they left behind when they marched for her. We’d often find her dicing with the foot or playing cards with the cavalry until dawn. I’ve known a few of Estryia’s Seconds, and Anala Trakbatten deserves her place amongst the greats.”
“You’d think one of the greats would have done something about Itham Ryland before he flew on Eastwood,” Bade hissed.
Sadness swept over Colm’s features. “Anala Trakbatten is not to blame for Itham’s treachery. That blame lies with no one but the Betrayer himself.”
Bade muttered something too quiet for Enya to hear about blame. Aiden loosed a heavy sigh. Something about this discussion had a dog-eared feel to it, like a chapter frequently revisited for debate.
“Perhaps you’d see it more clearly if you’d spent more time in the war tent and less inhertent.”
Enya choked on air.Colm? And Anala Trakbatten? Together? Light.
Danger flashed across Colm’s kindly face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
“Careful Bade, for a moment, I thought Colm might want to defend her honor,” Oryn chuckled.
“Colmis smarter than the average hedge knight,“ Bade spat.
Real laughter broke around the camp, chasing away the tension.
“Suitor, huh?” Aiden asked. “Ouch.”
“They’ll make anyone a knight,” Enya sighed. “I sometimes wonder if they were not some kind of divine punishment.”
“I find myself wondering the same thing of late,” Oryn muttered.
