“We must give up the horses. We cannot afford the water,”

The statement hung in the air like a foul smell.

Harin looked around at his men an women of the Landorian Army. A group of them, mostly cavalry, some of them scouts had gathered outside of the walls of the village they’d found.

“How will we transport our supplies if we do not have horses?” A young man of the supply train asked. His face was burned, the skin slightly peeled around his eyes, he was tall and skinny.

Harin grimaced. This was the conversation he’d wanted to avoid. Some men and women knew there were things that you did not speak of, this was one of them.

“We will not have to worry about having too many supplies to carry when theism is over,”

“When this is over?” The young man balked.

“The Horde knows we are here, it is a matter of time before they come for us. We do not have enough water to move and to take the horses with us. It is much to ask of you all, but I ask it anyway. We must give them up, or they will drink us dry,”

Harin left the last part unsaid. If they did not give their horses neigh water, they would caulis. Their insides would twist and turn and they would die a painful and slow death. It would not happen right away, but it would happen. The screams of a dying animal would be enough to unnerve them all.

Brago stepped forward from Harin’s side. “Bring them here. We will dispose of them,”

“Dispose! What is the meaning of this?” A scout shouted.

Harin felt despair creeping over him. “They cannot be released. They will simple be more weapons for our enemy to bring against us,”

‘What will we do with them?”

Brago put his hand on Harin’s shoulder. An understanding between them. “They will be processed, we need the meat,”

Harin could hear a couple of the men gag, one wrenched. Among the crowd he could pick out the women of Landor. All of them wore expressions of discus, but most of all they stood resolute. They did not flinch, they knew the pain, the need to do what must be done.

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“Go, now, we do not have time to waste,”

The sound of construction behind them was loud, coming out and over the walls. Every gate, every section of wall needed work. Wood and stone and time. Harin did not know when the Horde would come. But he knew he had to be ready. Even now the scouts were looking for water sources, the wells in this place were but seeps. Slow, not enough to gorge them. Just enough to sustain, to survive.

The crowd petered away. Grumbling and anger directed at Harin and Brago. Harin set his face and remained calm, knowing he was asking these people to give up what constituted some soldiers family members.

“We need to keep a horse for you sire,” Brago said.

Harin looked around at the departing men. They were down the outer wall on their way to the picket lines. Most moved through the sand with slumped shoulders. He looked back to Brago. “It cannot be, Brago, I am the king, I must lead the men,”

Brago began to protest.

“Enough, I will not discuss it Brago. I ordered the men to cut loose the horses, I will suffer the same fate. I will not give myself a boat to escape on if our is set ablaze,”

Brago nodded, his mouth pursed.

“Tell the cook, he will have fresh meat tonight. Do not let it all go to waste,”

—--

“Open the gates!”

A shout came up from the gate as Harin walked the town’s perimeter with Brago. It had taken no time for the legions to disperse, searching every building and corer of the place.

Harin looked up at the newly constructed gates, strung up lumber from fallen homes, doors, tables and chairs all strewn together and patched into gates on the four sides of the town’s walls.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear we were in our own camp,” Brago muttered.

Harin thought on it, the palace was laid out just like his own army camps. Just like the ones that every Legion of the Landorian army had constructed for generations. It was eerie.

The heavy timber that had been laid in the back channel of the gate creaked as it was lifted and swung on a hinge to the right. The gates swung open, pulled on either side by a legionnaire.

Harin’s mouth hung open as he took in the scene.

Between two of the scouts, one man and one woman, a body was tied to a large log. The man, shirtless and bloodied hung by his legs and arms. The scouts faces were covered in sweat, heaving from exhaustion.

“Falamar, how?” Harin asked.

The young Legate smiled, his face red and sweaty. “We caught him off guard, takin’ a piss if you can believe it. Calen hit him over the head with the haft of his spear,”

“Kiever, is he what I think he is?” Harin asked.

“Only people out here are the Iron Guard,”

A light breeze touched Harin, cooling the sweat on his brow. He could smell the men and himself. Water was at a premium in this place. They’d killed their own horses, there was hardly enough water to keep them alive, let alone bathe. He itched, sand still thought his clothes from gusting winds carrying waves of sand.

“What happened to his horse?” Harin asked.

Falamar let out a chuckle, then looked back to the man and then to Harin. “You wouldn’t believe it, but he was on his horse. Only reason we got him, he was standing and pissing off his horse. Never saw the likes. If we had our horses still, I think he’d of gotten the better of us. Like it was, he got Cat, horse wheeled and kicked him in the chest,”

The other soldier grimaced, and then spoke in a softer voice than Falamar. “Horse just clipped me, I was far enough away sire,”

“If you need aid, we can take it from here,”

The woman scowled. “I’ll see this one to the end, we owe him,”

Harin grinned. “Thank you, let us go see what this one knows,”

They moved through the town towards its center. Whoever had built it, however long ago had built it of stone. Once, he assumed that the stone had sharp edges, but now, over the years the crisp edges of the buildings were rounded, softened by time and weather.

“Move, or I’ll move you,”

Harin grimaced at his men behind him. All were on edge, they were on edge now.

The town was set up with it’s gates on all four sides, the buildings were arrayed with homes throughout the outer ring, barracks in the middle, cookhouses beside them and a large command building overlooking empty courtyards around it.

They walked through the courtyards, empty, but he could imagine it with vegetation, trees, water running through it. Vivid images painted his mind as he walked. This place could have been beautiful, he thought.

“Bring him to the top, there is a room in the south end that we can hold him,” Brago said, not far behind Harin.

Harin kept walking, two guards at the dorm spears held at the ready saluted him as he passed into the command building.