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Despite Gene’s desire to rush after the horsemen, we ended up spending the night with the old campaigners. He wanted us to leave immediately, but after a brief argument he reluctantly conceded his team needed rest. I took his consideration in this as a good sign. If I am being honest, one I really needed.

All four of the old soldiers were retirees from the Ergentein military, running supplies and caravans between Ashmere and Felbrigg. Apparently Felbrigg was a popular destination for veterans who had never settled down because of their military life. Getting caught up in the attempted assassination of an ascended would likely end their relationship with Ashmere, though.

Assuming our Stoneblood companion reported them.

Something I was not sure of, because Izzy knew them well. Especially the old captain, Alan Bell, and his wife Clara. The retirees were former cavalry who had spent years doing patrols in the green zone of the Ruinlands. Considering Ashmere ran their own patrols throughout the yellow and green zones, Izzy had run into them many times over the years; both in the field and at various forts along the border. From the sounds of things, they had fought quite a few battles together. The all day marching exhausted me too much to listen to their stories. But I caught enough to learn that they were good people.

After around six hours of sleep, Gene kicked us awake. Izzy, who needed little sleep due to a [Guard] skill, stayed awake chatting with her old acquaintances, and watched over us while we slept.

The veterans had six horses, apparently having expected a slightly larger company of men to arrive. They pointedly refused to talk about their mission parameters, or the soldiers they brought horses to. However, reading between the lines, we could tell they were not ordinary troops—not that we suspected any different. Outpacing us was a sure sign that they had rank and skill on our ascendent group.

We looked at the two horses they left behind, and it set Gene to cursing all over again. Both of the massive animals were armored warhorses. No one besides our team leader had the skill to ride the magnificent beasts, but worse than that, there was no way we were going to catch those troops. Not on the other four normal sized horses.

A discussion between the four of us and Izzy followed about our priorities versus capabilities. Gene argued it was our duty to protect the Kestev group, same as we would if we saw them under attack by monsters or undead. Izzy felt inclined to agree, only differing in that she wanted to, and more importantly, believed she could resolve the issue peacefully. Over the night, she had sent an emergency report to Ashmere, but her duty had not changed from protecting me. I found the situation incredibly ironic, given that Reynold and his family were the people I believed I needed protection from.

The chief issue was that only Gene had a chance in the abyss of catching the hunter-killer platoon. Alan, who tried to ignore our conversation, chimed in to correct us on that at least; saying that he believed their goal was to capture Reynold, not kill him.

Naturally, once the old captain revealed that tidbit, I pushed as hard as I dared to leave it alone. My admitted bias against Reynold played an enormous role in my perspective, but Gene could not argue that it was a good idea to leave his team behind. I did not want a war between Ergentein and Ankest. Yet, from the looks of things that would happen no matter what we did. Factions within the nobility clearly wanted a war, and they would probably get it. So, in my estimation, rushing off to save Reynold would help my enemy, create new enemies for me among the nobility, and still be ultimately pointless. Maybe I would have felt differently if my experience at Ashmere had been one of unity, instead of dirty, scheming aristocrats and demons.

Ultimately, my reasoning fell on deaf ears. It did not matter that they would “probably” take him alive, or that splitting the team was bad. Gene named Joy the de facto leader, ignoring her protests. Then told us to follow behind as best as we could, leaving without another word on one of the giant warhorses during the cool, dark early morning hours.

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“As leader, I say we sit down and eat breakfast,” Joy said, almost as soon as Gene left.

A position we all agreed with.

After a long relaxing meal, wherein we ate most of the four veterans' hot pot of campfire beans, we made our way to the horses as the sun crept up to start the day.

“I can’t ride,” Raxx said, pointing to the agitated horses. Of the five remaining, only the warhorse stood its ground against the Harak.

“You are shitin’ me?” Joy asked with an exasperated look. “What about you? Can you ride?”

“Yeah,” I said. I could ride, but not well. There was no reason to let her know; she had enough on her plate.

“You gotta ride with me then, Raxx. Guess there is an upside to this. I’ve never ridden a warhorse before…” Joy said thoughtfully, looking the massive, unintimidated beast over.

“Then you should leave this one be,” Alan said, standing next to us. We could all tell it pissed him off to give up his horses. “It takes a lot of training to ride one of these beasts. Mark me, you try to ride off on Thunder and you will regret it.”

Thunder snorted in agreement, stomping the ground at Raxx in a distinctly challenging manner. That ended that idea; no one wanted to argue with the hoofed menace.

“All right, fine.” Joy sighed.

Joy and Raxx sat together on the second biggest horse, named Bubba, after close to an hour of coaxing the beast with treats. In the end, his greedy belly was more important to him than the indignity of carrying a beastman.

Izzy was much too large to ride with another passenger, so we ended up taking two more of their horses. That left two for the retirees to ride together back to Felbrigg. From the nasty looks they were giving us; I was more convinced than ever that Izzy had left their names out of her report. Otherwise, they never would have yielded the beasts. Fair was fair.

“This is a fucking disaster,” Joy said less than an hour later.

I could not disagree.

Bubba was a dickhead, refusing to listen to her commands. Meanwhile, I struggled to control my own horse, relying on lessons I learned years ago at the age of 10. It was, uh, not as easy as I recalled and a lot more painful. Old Nelly—that was the name of a merchant, not a horse—had eased me into it, going in circles around our house with her horse. I distinctly remember not having a numb ass.

If it were not for the stern leadership of Izzy’s horseman skill, we would have had to let the animals loose already. The only upside was that our asshole team leader was no longer here to berate us for our failings.

Fortunately, despite our abominable pace, the tracks of the cavalry were quite easy for us to follow. The iron hooves of the warhorses had torn an absurd trail through the grasslands, easy enough even for Gene to follow in the dark.

Though the further west we went, the harder it became to trail. Scattered forest and knee-high plains soon gave way to rolling green hills. According to Izzy, the closer we made it to the Blacknail Mountains, the rougher the land would become. Not that I expected a place with a name like that to be a sunny paradise.

By midday, we reached the place the men we followed had camped the night before. At the top of a low hill, near a collection of odd-looking stones, we found an old campfire. We sat there to rest the horses and have lunch.

“What do you suppose these stones are?” I asked, looking at the weird carvings.

“Umbrakin markers,” Izzy said, struggling to chew on a hard piece of jerky with her large blocky teeth.

“I thought Umbrakin used to live underground.” Raxx said, tearing through his food with fangs and no issue what-so-ever.

“They did, just like my people. There are caves and underground tunnels throughout these hills. This is an old territory marker, probably instructions to a nearby entrance too.” Izzy said.

“I wonder what it was like to live underground,” I said, looking down at the earth.

Izzy shrugged. Like the Umbrakin, her people had lived above ground for centuries now.

“Probably stunk a lot,” Joy said. “Can you imagine having to live in a hole with someone like Raxx who farts and hiccups every time he eats?”

“Hey, I do live with Raxx,” I said, causing the Harak to break out in a high-pitched laugh. Raxx used my stupid cursed cup at almost every meal, never tiring of its effects. He decided that if he could not prank Joy directly, he would make her suffer by using it near her.

“You should let me make you a potion for your stomach, seriously,” Joy said, holding her nose and waving her hand.

“I agree,” Izzy chimed in. “I’ve known a lot of soldiers in my time, and if you know anything about the military, you know farting is almost a skill. But what is happening with your furry butt… It ain’t natural.”

Feeling bad, I decided I would let the other two in on the joke. After all, Izzy may want to try the cup herself.

I opened my mouth to explain but stopped when an unearthly screeching noise interrupted my thoughts. It sounded muffled, but close.

“What the—” Joy said, jumping to her feet with the rest of us.

The earth split open at the base of the hill, and white dead things poured out.