Senn didn't get to ponder long on what the blind men signified. There were twenty afflicted men that the Mediator had found, all of them beggars. But Lordstown held many more people, so many no one had bothered to count. Senn's army was twenty thousand strong, and there had to be many times that number of workers and merchants. Sheer numbers made Senn turn his focus away from the needs of those few. The Lord's hunger weighed heavily on him, and he could feel his pull. He had promised to achieve more, to find a way out of the deadlock that had stifled them for so long. So he set out to do the only thing he could think of.

It hadn't been two full days after their arrival, but he ordered two full battalions to ready themselves. That would amount to almost half his strength, a bold move if he drove them westward. He had taken half that number in the chase for the fugitives, and even he had considered that too much, a move on the verge of foolishness. Now he would do even worse. But the God had to be right. If they gambled nothing, what good was it getting things in the first place? A sword had no use apart from killing, and a soldier that sat around was a waste. The Lord would rather they die accomplishing something than due to infighting.

So on the third morning, he gave the order and led the men west. He didn't fear his enemies learning of his movements. There was no contact, no stream of information between Lordstown and the Hub, and he had killed the only men to dare flee Lordstown in a long while. He had left a handful of scouts at the mid mountains after their retreat and was sure that the Chainkeepers wouldn't learn of his moves at least until he reached that far. His chase of the fugitives had also been a test: he had wandered into the disputed lands with a whole battalion and no one had moved against Lordstown. He would be wrong to trust his good fortune, but maybe the Chainkeepers wouldn't be wise to his strategies. Or they were too incompetent to get an army up and on its way to Lordstown while its main defender was away.

After a week of marching, they saw the mid mountains. Senn ordered the camp to be set while still far from their shadow, but rested uneasily nonetheless. The next day, he sent a quarter of his force onward, a half-day ahead, with orders to retreat to the mountains if they spotted enemies. He hoped that if somehow the Forever King's men saw their approach, they would follow them toward the mountains, while Senn's larger force remained in the back to crush them or slip past their line. He wasn't sure yet how far he was willing to take it. But he could give the Chainkeepers a scare without sacrificing a large force.

They camped at the northern end of the mid mountains, near a well. Before long, two of Senn's scouts stationed in the mountains came to meet their army. Senn sat cross-legged in his tent, drinking root tea. Mirai was sitting next to him, on a sudden change of winds from the distance he had kept lately. He was probably attempting to catch a glimpse of Senn's plans, but for what purpose, Senn couldn't guess. Maybe he wanted to help, or learn from his strategies. Most probably, find a weakness or betray him. Still, Senn had to admit he was glad to have him there, whatever the purpose. When not around the other Sparked, Mirai could be talkative, even funny. There was still a part of the street urchin Senn had found long ago in there.

"Sit and talk," said Senn. "Any news? Is my advance party where they should be?"

The scouts sat and remained stiff.

"Well"'

"Ah... umm... my lord, I don't know where it should be. But it's a full day ahead of you, near the northwestern tip of the mountains."

"Why so far ahead? I didn't order them so."

"We don't know"' said the other scout. "But we thought we should let you know."

Senn grumbled and waved the men away. They rose hurriedly and strode out of the tent. Senn was left alone with Mirai and a serving girl who stood motionless at the back of the tent.

"What do you make of it?" said Senn.

"I don't know," said Mirai. "Too eager?"

"Even you aren't that dense, boy. I gave an order. Why would they go further ahead?"

"Do you want me to tell you some truths, old man?"

"Don't play with me. I want to know who's guilty of defying me. Worse, who's putting my men at risk needlessly."

"Who among the Sparked, you mean?"

"Yes. You know your fellows better than me. You have to know who would dare do this. If their balls are big enough to make them do it, then they're ballsy enough to talk loudly against me at any one of your drinking spots or parties."

Senn paused and then leaned forward.

"Tell me who."

"I'm tempted to do so, but what would be the point? If I give you a name, you would get rid of him, and I gain nothing. There would come others whom I'd have to cajole or kill. These, I know how to hold at bay. And you wouldn't trust what I said, because I would give anyone up, not just the guilty. So you'd be no closer to finding out who defies you, and I'd be labeled a snitch and get myself an unhealthy stab in the back just for the principle of it. No one wins, so it's better I stay silent."

Senn growled but didn't press the point. Mirai was probably right. He would gain nothing from singling out one traitor. He needed to address all of the Sparked at once and remind them who among them had the god's favor. And he knew just the way to do it.

"If you won't tell me, then you will be the one to ride out to the vanguard and tell them to come back."

Mirai frowned and leaned forward.

"Why would they listen to me, if they don't listen to you?"

"They can claim they didn't realize they were that far ahead. I didn't tell them not to get so far ahead. Now, I'm giving them a direct order, but I won't send a soldier who can be ignored or killed. And I'm not going myself because it would be a sign of weakness. So the correct option is to send one of the Sparked. I could send anyone else, but if I send you, it will further solidify you as my second. I thought you'd want that. You always liked the meaningless words."

"It's not meaningless," said Mirai. "I'm surprised you even say so. Our words are the only things with meaning."

Senn didn't reply. Mirai sighed but stood up, trying to hide his satisfaction.

"I'll go. I'll make them obey me, if not you. Can I do it by any means necessary?"

Senn nodded.

When Mirai left, Senn smiled. The boy had manipulated him into sending him, and Senn had given him what he wanted. Had he done it out of exhaustion at his constant prodding, or because he favored him? Because he reminded him of his past self? In any case, if Mirai killed another of the Sparked, the god would grant his gifts to someone else. And if Mirai died... that would be a shame, but the kid was always walking that fine line. Better to see if he had what it takes to succeed him. At some point, someone would get lucky or Senn would die of old age. Someone had to serve the god in his stead.

But the boy is wrong. Words are a poor substitute for action.

He called for another of the Sparked, Izal. When the grizzled, scarred man came, Senn motioned for him to sit next to him.

"I have another errand for you."

* * *

He still wasn't sure what the plan was, but he would be prepared. He had given Mirai the perfect chance to make his grab. If Mirai wasn't good or fast enough, the others would grab it instead. Graal and Morit were the strongest Sparked in the vanguard. If they weren't allied with Mirai, they were the traitors he wanted to surface. Still, he had to dispel the word from his mind. This was no treason. Just his God's hunger manifesting in expected ways.

But it was a moot point anyway. They could rebel, but would the vanguard follow them, even as they fought against themselves? And if they did, would they fight Senn's army? A stronger, larger force made up of their own men? That's what Senn couldn't figure out, the point of it all. He knew he wasn't being paranoid. He knew he was being tested. But what could they hope to gain, except a hangman's noose to decorate their necks?

Just in case, Senn had made sure that the noose caught whomever it was intended to, or better yet, everyone. The best outcome against a mutiny wasn't a hanging of the offenders. The best outcome would be to reassert his dominion without having to do that. If he could just brush it off, and at the same time not be forced to get rid of his most ambitious men, he would truly be doing the god's work. But the only way to appease his men and ensure they didn't try this again would be to give them partly what they wanted. They wanted more power, more of everything. Then he had to take it from someone. He had to do what his God had asked of him.

Lead them forward. An army can't stay still. You knew that.

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That's why he had sent Izal with the rest of the Sparked to join up with the vanguard. Mirai could get the allegiance of a few of them with the promise of power, but if there were more of them there, they would fight among themselves. Twenty evenly matched men couldn't agree on anything quickly. And Senn would swoop down on them at that time, bringing them a promise. And they would all fall in line again behind him, their hunger fueled by missing their goal ever so slightly. It was the God's will indeed. Senn smirked. His Lord was a devious one, but always got what he wanted, even if Senn couldn't see beyond the first turns in the road. He had faith, instead.

He got ready to move as soon as a scout told him Izal and the rest of the Sparked had gone over the horizon. He gave the order for the whole army to advance, even as nighttime approached. There was no danger in the plains at night that wasn't there in the daytime. They could see by the light of the stars, and they would advance without torches, as fast as they could. They would reach the stray vanguard by midday. Senn's ploy would stall them. First Mirai, then Izal, would throw them further into doubt, giving him the time he needed.

He had another card left to ensure his plan went smoothly. The main host of the army was big, around eight thousand strong. It would move slowly if he let them, each man holding back to wait for the others. But as he climbed on his canid and trotted ahead, he closed his eyes and extended his field of influence all around him. The Sparked could use their hunger on others, a few dozen men at a time. Enough to command a squad. But the Herald could influence thousands at a time, a whole army. In their other gift, the speed, he was stronger than the Sparked but not by much. That's because the speed was fueled by each Sparked's hunger, and he was the stronger one. But the projected hunger was the God's power all the way through, and Senn only channeled it.

It didn't take long, and the effects were noticeable. Tired men sprang up, legs nimble again, or at least oblivious to the pain. Eyes alert even in the dusk. A tingling of anticipation in the air, as the collected breaths of thousands awaited their release. The men knew the touch of the hunger on them, and they realized the difference in power between a Sparked's touch and their Herald's. Senn didn't use his power often, but when he did, men followed eagerly.

He bolted ahead on his mount and an entire army ran behind him, trampling tents and barrels, following without thinking of anything except their own glory.

* * *

As the sun rose, Senn had to use more of his power to keep up the army's hunger. They still ran, but some of the pack canids were dying or resisting their drivers. No man complained. Senn kept their attention focused on their goal. It was a gamble to use his influence in such a way. He had to feed their hunger, telling them there was glory and riches ahead, but when they reached their vanguard, he would have to shift their hunger elsewhere or risk them focusing on the vanguard and ripping them to shreds. The hunger was blinding, and he couldn't just turn it off. Once inflamed, tempers needed a long time to subside. He would have to switch it to a farther goal, one that was only a few days ahead.

The Hub. It will be a fine target.

The city was large. Senn didn't know how large it was at the time. He hadn't seen it in ages. But his scouts had made their measurements and were sure it was now at least ten times bigger than Lordstown. That should have made Senn pause before thinking to attack, and any other general wouldn't risk it. Senn didn't, because he knew his enemy. Even if the city was large, most of the Hub was slums, easily burned down. Most of their men were Leashed, which meant they wouldn't resist. The Hub had no free men. The ignorant few who had debated this point with Senn had claimed the Chainkeepers were free at the expense of the Leashed. But it was a false proposition. Underneath the Forever King's rule, there were only different degrees of servitude. No one was free, and free men fought twice as hard because they had to fight to remain free. Senn could take his ten thousand and expect to give a good blow to the King even if his army was bigger. They wouldn't expect it, and they wouldn't have the time to organize.

They first saw the vanguard at mid-morning. The sun was obscured by large clouds, but the heat was overwhelming as always in the plains. The rough, warm winds carried the promise of rain, but if it came, it would be warm and not more than a drizzle. As it were, the rain would only annoy them and make it harder to fight in their cuirasses. And it would also keep the planned fires from spreading out.

Worry about your army first. Worry about the Hub once you have a firm grip on your men again.

Some more men stumbled and stopped running. There were few in his army without the required endurance, but there were always a few who thought they could hide their weaknesses. It was stupid of them. That only meant they would be left behind when they fell and given no assistance. If they had remained in Lordstown, they would still be alive. Senn didn't stop, even when one of his stewards fell and was trampled. He had been too young and infirm. He would only have been a nuisance on a battlefield.

By the time they were an arrow flight away from the vanguard, Senn's army was a scattered bunch of nervous men with shaky legs. The hunger flared in their eyes. Senn turned his influence down just a little. Any more, and they would start feeling the exhaustion. The vanguard, in contrast, was lax. The tents were still up and most men were sitting around them. Only about a hundred of them were standing up in a circle, with an air of tense expectation. Senn could feel the hunger that one of the Sparked was projecting over them. He could feel it but do nothing to smother it. He could only advance with his army and try to envelop that hunger with a stronger one, his own. So he did just that.

The vanguard soldiers were staring at them with curiosity, but not the ones in the huddle. All of the Sparked had to be there, jostling for position or influence. It wasn't Mirai who was rioting the men's hunger. Senn could sense the subtle differences in influence each of his men projected. A sliver of each man's ambition was there, and all men desired different things. This one was not just about power. It also held revenge.

Strange. Who is it?

As he reached the first lines of men, he began spreading his own power, and the men who were sitting down began shifting in their places, uneasy. A bit more and they would be ready to follow. He spread out his power even more, right up to the edge of the other Sparked's influence. Just a few more steps and he would give his war speech. Then they would all be his again.

Except the other's influence resisted his vehemently. Senn was taken aback by the sudden jolt and stopped his mount The other Sparked's influence was spreading. Like a candle thrown in a stack, it was spreading outward.

It's impossible. He's stronger than me.

But then he realized there were differences in the field that extended toward him. It held a variety of powers. It wasn't one of the Sparked.

It was all of them.

He flared his power and invoked his God. He pushed outward, trying to recapture his army. That made the men behind him twitch and start looking ahead with bloodshot eyes. The men in front of him were already standing up, some looking toward him, others to the west, where the Hub lay. One more push and he would have them again. The Sparked's power was waning. They stood immobile just as he did, concentrating on their hunger. Only the pulsing veins in their arms and Senn's forehead betrayed their tension. Senn reared his canid and jumped ahead with one last, bright push of hunger. And then he yelled.

"I won't be denied!"

The power spread through all the army at last, bringing the last men of the vanguard up on their feet, hands on hilts, jaws squared, eyes shot.

And then they all turned against him.

It wasn't his power that had won them over. He realized at that moment that his own hunger had disappeared, and it was the Sparked's own power that had gotten the upper hand. They had made it seem it was waning and then had pushed against him with all their might. But Senn's hunger couldn't just disappear. His influence came from the God, not from his own power. That meant...

He has left me.

The sudden realization hurt more than the disappearance of his power. Then, something else hurt him too, but it wasn't emotional. It was a dagger pushing against his back.

His cuirass had stopped the blade just barely above his shoulder blades. Someone had jumped on his canid's back and pulled him down. They threw him to the ground, which ended up saving him because the impact made the dagger dislodge itself.

He struck the ground hard and cursed, but knew he didn't even have time for that. The God could have taken his influence, but he knew his other power didn't depend on his Lord's will. It was his own power after all. He had earned it, and as long as he still felt hunger inside, he couldn't take it from him.

You stupid old fool. You gave me power, but now you can't take it all back.

He stood up using his speed and roared, clutching the first traitor, the one who had struck him in the back, by the throat. He snapped it, his speed making his enemy's resistance inconsequential. He was just a soldier. He regretted killing him, for it wasn't his fault. It was the Sparked's betrayal, and the entire army was a pawn.

He saw with his speed-sight that all the surrounding men were running toward him. They meant to rush him, for they knew that if they piled on him, no speed power would help him. They thought he was like them. He was not. There was a reason he was the Lord's Herald and not them. And this was the time he would show them, once and for all. It had to be the Lord's ambition guiding him. He was giving him this chance to quell the resistance, to assert himself once and for all. To reach an even higher understanding of his greed.

You may have forsaken me, my lord. But I haven't forsaken you.

He lashed out with his bare hands, speeding toward the incoming soldiers, hitting them once each, in thighs and collarbones and ribs. He knew where to hit and how to do it to inflict as much pain as possible without killing or disabling them. He needed them still, to grab what he wanted. He needed them to assault the Hub, and a disabled army was no good. He kept speeding and hitting, running in circles from one man to the other, creating an expanding circle beyond which none could enter. And when the men started stumbling and their hunger waned just a bit to make them hesitate to attack, he rushed out of the circle, running around the men to reach the place where the Sparked were still intent on stealing his army. He took out his dagger and struck before they could react. Izal fell first.

Betrayer!

The second Sparked reacted when Izal's blood splashed on him. He flared his speed and just barely dodged Senn's blade. The others were beginning to move their speed starting up. Senn launched arrowheads at the distracted ones, and three of them fell, one of them struck in the eye. The others would recover with their speed-healing. But he was just getting started. He ducked underneath his next rival's blade and slit his hamstrings. That would take a few days to heal. He dodged another man's dagger and tripped him up, driving his face into the ground. He might heal, or not. A few dead would be a better reminder than just a few broken bones. He grabbed another Sparked's arrow in mid-flight and turned, letting it fly with the same impulse toward the shooter. He caught him in the throat, just to the side, missing an artery. Still, he would probably die. What a waste.

He kept fighting, finally coming up against Graal. He dodged and spun, jumped backward, and covered the man in arrowheads before driving a dagger into his groin and pulling up, disemboweling him. Then came Morit, almost as a shadow to Graal, and cut the straps that held Senn's cuirass in place. He kept dodging and sneaking, trying to stay out of the way of the rest. One or two were hesitant, but the rest couldn't afford to. They feared his wrath, and they were too committed. He spun and suddenly came against Mirai. His dagger wasn't as fast then and barely missed him.

Then a sudden burst of wind blew against him, blinding him. He wasn't the only one, for Mirai didn't counterattack. Looking westward, he saw a massive cloud rolling toward them, a sandstorm that had snuck up on them, seemingly coming out of nowhere. With his speed, he could see the individual gusts spinning out of the cloud. And just as it was about to hit them full force, he saw within it the silhouettes of the men charging toward them.