“Would they have let the Ybarisans through?” I ask.
“Aye. The wall ain’t that strong. When a line of soldiers shows up, you open the gate.”
Zander studies the wooden barrier. Four archers watch from the ramparts. A minute ago, there was only one. “Are they fighters?”
“You won’t see ’em throwing down their swords in easy surrender, that’s for sure. They’ve been gettin’ some saplin’s lately, from what I heard last time I came through, even with Isembert’s deal.”
A deal that I hope the next leader of Norcaster doesn’t honor.
“Is there a way around the village?” Elisaf asks.
“I mean, you could squeeze a horse through the thicket, but not one of those.” He points toward the line of wagons.
Zander’s lips press together. “Then we will go through. A shield, if you will?”
“Your Highness.” Gesine’s eyes flare with a vibrant emerald luster.
“Fearghal, you know these people?”
“Aye, one or two.”
“Then you come with us.” He nods toward our small group of five.
Abarrane leads us toward the wall, her sword still tucked in its sheath.
I inhale, and my nose curls. “What is that?” A pungent stench of smoldering, wet wood and something else—vaguely like beef or pork, only sweeter and yet with a metallic component.
“Burning flesh,” Elisaf answers.
My stomach drops. No wonder Zander seems so apprehensive.
We’re twenty feet away when a man with an arrow aimed at Zander yells, “Who are you?”
“I am the king of Islor. Lower your weapons.”
He falters before stiffening again. “There ain’t no king in these parts.”
“And yet here I stand.”
“Not as easy as it was in Freywich,” Elisaf murmurs under his breath.
“Lower your weapons and open the gate.” Zander sounds bored and unbothered, but I know better than to believe the act.
The soldier lets his arrow fly in response. It sails toward us, only to bounce off thin air and drop to the ground.
The archers exchange bewildered looks.
“Perhaps you can reason with them?” Zander looks to Fearghal.
Fearghal nods and then bellows, “Elsten, you in there?”
No one answers.
“Elsten, if you’re in there, open the gate! They just wanna pass through. They’re not gonna cause you no trouble, but I promise, you don’t wanna pick a fight with this lot.”
After a long pause, a man yells, “Go around!”
Fearghal snorts. “There ain’t no goin’ around! We got wagons!”