It is one thing to lead soldiers into war. And it is one thing to send them into a war. But it is, it seems to me, wholly another to lead and send them into a war that is itself a crime. Are we to be so indifferent to the suffering we will inflict on our own people and upon innocent victims in unknown lands?
In his heart dwelt the names of countless lost gods. Many had broken the souls of their worshippers. Many others had been broken by the mortal madness of senseless wars, of slaughter and pointless annihilation. Of the two, the former suffered a torment of breathtaking proportions. There was, in the very end-there must be -judgement. Not upon the fallen, not upon the victims, but upon those who had orchestrated their fates.
Of course, he did not know if such a thing was true. Yes, he could sense the suffering among those gods whose names he held within him, but perhaps it was his own knowledge that engendered such anguish, and that anguish belonged to his own soul, cursed to writhe in an empathic trap. Perhaps he was doing nothing more than forcing his own sense of righteous punishment upon those long-dead gods. And if so, by what right could he do such a thing?
Troubling notions. Yet onward his legions marched. Seeking answers to questions the Adjunct alone knew. This went beyond trust, beyond even faith. This was a sharing of insanity, and in its maelstrom they were all snared, no matter what fate awaited them.
I should be better than this. Shouldn’t I? I lead, but can I truly protect? When I do not know what awaits us?
‘Commander.’
Startled from his dark thoughts, he straightened in his saddle and looked over to his Atri-Ceda. ‘My apologies, were you speaking?’
Aranict wiped sweat from an oddly pale face, hesitated.
‘I believe you are struck with heat. Dismount, and I will send for-’
‘No, sir.’
‘Atri-Ceda-’
He saw the wash of terror and panic rise into her face. ‘We are in the wrong place! Commander! Brys! We have to get out of here! We have to- we are in the wrong place !’
At that moment, thunder hammered through the earth, a drum roll that went on, and on-
Dust storm or an army? Keneb squinted in the bright glare. ‘Corporal.’
‘Sir.’
‘Ride to the vanguard. I think we’ve sighted the Khundryl and Perish.’