Age of War: Book One - Alliance of Wolves

Chapter Twenty Five - The Pains of Politics

Drew and everyone else not locked up in the dungeons were kept busy for the rest of the day, putting out small skirmishes, making sure walls and buildings weren't about to collapse, gathering the army of dead that awaited burial. The sun rose high, shining down upon chaos and drying blood. It sunk down once more, the colors of the sky reflecting those of Praeverk.

It was late when Drew at last managed to break away. He gathered up a bucket of water, a rag, and a bar of soap before retreating to him own room. The dried blood was starting to itch something fierce, and he welcomed the eyes watering scent of the soap that cleansed his senses along with his body of the day's grime. He cast a longing gaze at his bed as he pulled out his spare set of clothes. Crows, he needed sleep. But not yet. I still have things to do. Once he had found Angus, then he could sleep. Not that he expected he would be able to.

Clean though he was, the battle still clung to him. A gladiator fight, that was something impersonal. It was in and out, no hard feelings, no real lasting effect; unless you died. Death there had been a way of life. But here, in the city... it was teeming with life to the point of repulsion.

But it was worse when the streets were cloaked in mourning. Standing on the castle wall, the city streets lay bare beneath Drew. Here and there patrols of soldiers still moved, but the hordes of people who usually bustled about had retreated to the relative safety of their homes. That, or they lay still on the street, waiting to be gathered up.

Drew turned away and started down the steps. It will return to normal soon. Merchants need to sell and people need to eat. And if things didn't change... well, that was a worry for tomorrow. Right now, I just need to find Angus.

The stables seemed empty when Drew first walked in. Only a few horses remained, who pranced about nervously at his scent. But walking along the aisle, he heard a muffled sob.

Angus was inside an empty stall at the end, sitting atop an upturned bucket. He held his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking slightly. Drew didn't say anything as he stepped inside, crouching next to Angus and putting an arm around him.

Really, there was nothing he could say. What could words even do in this situation?

They sat there in silence until Drew's muscles ached from crouching and Angus's tears had run out; for the moment. Darkness had fallen and the horses stilled.

"You need to sleep." Drew's words were soft, but they seemed to loud in this place of mourning. Angus nodded, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "Do you want to go back-"

"N-no. M-m-mu- M-mu-"

"Maisy?"

Angus nodded again, blinking hard. "She's in- in th-the h-hay l-l-l-loft w-w-with M-m-m- W-with y-y-your f-friend." He stood, drawing in shaky breaths and swaying a bit on his feet.

Drew followed him down the aisle to the foot of a ladder. Climbing up, he found himself in a small room filled with sweet smelling hay and sacks of oats and grain. Marty was asleep in a pile of hay, Maisy curled up on his chest.

"I don't know that you're ever going to get her away from Marty." Angus made a noise that supposed to be a laugh but died halfway out. He dropped into the hay next Marty, rolling to his side so he was face to face with Maisy. Drew joined them lying on his back and peering at the gray tints where there were cracks in the roof.

"T-tell m-m-me som-m-mething."

"What?"

"An-nth-thing. I d-d-don't w-want to- to th-think." Drew scrambled for a topic, any topic. Most of his fields of knowledge were related to killing, that wouldn't help at all. Was he supposed to talk about himself? "Who's K-koper?" How does he- "Y-y-you m-men-m-mentioned h-him th-the n-n-night y-you m-met m-m-m- m-met Calmar."