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“No,” said Nicole, curtly. “I will not be held accountable for your king until Farris is released.”

“How dare you!” roared Captain Tuathil. He went to step forward but was stayed by a raised hand from the Silverback.

“Nicole,” said Argyll, slowly. “Please listen and—”

“No, you listen to me.” she interrupted again. “You imprisoned Farris for saving this fool, then you bow and grovel before his feet. I’ll help you no more until I get some answers.”

“What answers would you like?” said Argyll, so calmly that he may as well have been asking what she’d like for supper.

“My father,” growled Nicole. She took a step toward King Diarmuid and pointed a trembling finger at him. “I saved you from the horde, so I deserve answers. One year ago, my father was murdered along with several more of your Royal Guard. You blamed the Silverback for their death, but I know this to be impossible.”

“Nicole,” said Argyll. “Please, His Grace is still in shock, there is no need to—”

“How can you not care?!” she roared. Everyone else in the room seemed to shrink back in fear. Nobody had ever raised their voice to the Silverback before. “He blamed you for my father’s death. He declared war on our people. How can you just stand there and not demand an answer? How can you expect us to accommodate this fool without question?”

“Because we have more important things to consider right now,” said Argyll. “Despite our differences, we must stand together against the horde.”

Nicole’s head snapped back to face the king. “You killed him,” she rasped. “Admit it, right here and now, that you killed him so you could declare war on the dissidents. You killed my father to further your own position of power.”

King Diarmuid did not say a word since Nicole’s tirade began, but now, his lips were quivering. He swallowed deeply, and a shiver ran through his body.

“I did not lay a finger on Santos,” he whispered. “Your father and I were to unite Human and Simian alike with the railroad. But… She killed him.”

“Who?” demanded Nicole.

“I… I promised myself I would never speak of it.”

“Lies! Speak of it now, if you wish to clear your name!”

“No,” said the trembling king. “I… I must not burden others with the truth I have seen. With the truth She has shown me.”

“Sir,” said another voice.

“What truth?” demanded Nicole. “Skies above, you better start making sense soon.”

“Stand down, Nicole,” said the Silverback. “This is not the time nor place to—”

“Sir!” said the voice again.

Nicole made a wide, waving gesture at Argyll. “How can we let him get away with this? How can you let him live in your city?”

“Sir!”

All went silent as they noticed a newcomer had entered the room. He wore the garb of a Triad scout, but his armour was chipped and worn, with bloodstains and mud spattered across his chest. The Simian was breathing heavily and sweat poured from his brow.

“Sir,” he repeated. “Excuse my interruption, but I bring news from the south.”

“You are excused,” said the Silverback. “What news?”

“I was surveying the Floodlands when… when….” His voice cracked. All the air of formality that inhabited his words vanished when he spoke again. “I saw them cross the River Tulcha. I was barely a day’s ride ahead of them when I reached the Glenn.”

“Speak plainly, scout,” said Padraig. “What did you see?”

“The horde!” Tears rolled down from the Simian’s cheeks, and he let out a loud, wet sob. “They’ve made it to the Glenn. They’ll be upon the city by nightfall.”

A murmur of terror ran through the room, but it was Garth who spoke the loudest.

“Impossible! Your report must be mistaken. The dead were as far south as they possibly could be just one day ago.”

“My eyes did not fool me,” said the scout. “I saw them in all their might marching northwards.”

“No,” said Garth. “It can’t be. An army could never cross the kingdom in a single day!”

Aislinn threw her head back and laughed manically. For a frightening second, Fionn thought she may have lost her mind.

“Army?” she said, throwing the Garth a jeering look. “This is no army. The horde does not have any scouts, or divisions, or supply lines. They do not rest. They do not feed. They do not move like any army our history has known, but like a single creature, crawling across the land and devouring all that stands in its way. If they take this city, they will not show mercy. If we put up a fight, none will break from their ranks and flee. We stand no chance of beating them if we continue to consider them as an army.”

“Why did they change course so suddenly?” said Garth. “Why did they come here?”

“They came for me,” said King Diarmuid, his voice a little stronger than before. Still, his unblinking eyes stared down at the floor. “I was not supposed to survive the attack on Cruachan. You may think you can fight the horde, but you cannot fight fate.” His lips cracked into a defeated, joyless smile. “I once believed I could, and I did everything in my power to repel the coming tide. But She said there was no hope, and She was right. There never was.”



Chapter 26:

The Last Battlemage

The Triad’s soldiers came into the camp and claimed that it was no longer safe there. They told us to grab our things and follow them into the heart of the city. People protested at first, but there were whispers among the crowd that the horde had finally caught up with us, and it would be only a matter of time before they took Penance, too.

As I write this, we’re all huddled up in the Tower of Sin, with nothing left to do but wait for what’s to come. I pray to the Lord to watch over us, and to the Lady to guide us through the night. But I don’t believe we’ll live to see the morning.

Are sens

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