The infirmary was candlelit, the space illuminated by only a few oil lamps whose glow threw a soothing, herbal scent into the air. Elias lay on a spare cot, his hurt side bound up in fresh bandages. The hurt pulsed heavily, but the pain was less than the burden of the Script's most recent line. The Reader will be faced with the choice: save one, or save many. He'd stared at those glowing words for hours, waiting for them to fade. They didn't. By the time dawn filtered through the narrow windows, Aric was standing at the foot of his cot. The mage's gaze swept over him, noting the bandages.
"You're not dead," Aric said flatly. "So the prophecy was… bent?""Maybe." Elias pushed himself up slowly. "But now there's another one."Aric didn't insist on knowing what it was—just regarded him for a moment. "And you're waiting for it to come soon.""I'm waiting for it to be here tonight."
The Warden summoned him shortly after that. There was a map on the table, pins where the country and the city were. Brynn stood there too, arms folded, still wearing the same scowl as the tannery.
"Scouts present two disparate threats," the Warden said. "First—a merchant caravan is stuck on the west road due to a destroyed bridge. If raiders reach them, they are dead. Second—a village to the north issued an emergency signal. Carrion attack."
Elias's stomach fell. "How far are they apart?""Far enough that we can't reach both of them in time," Brynn explained. "Even if we split forces, and each would be too small to survive."Aric's eyes leapt to Elias. "And your prophecy?"Elias nodded uncomfortably. "Save one, or save many."
The Warden leaned forward. "If the caravan is lost, we lose supplies the city has to survive the winter. If the village is captured… dozens die. Children among them."Brynn's jaw clenched. "The right choice is the village.""The caravan is the correct choice," another officer objected. "If the city perishes, the village's survival will mean nothing."
Elias felt the attention of each individual in the room move to him. He wanted to insist that he be informed why it had to be his choice. But he knew at a fundamental level why—the Warden did not believe the Script was simply cautioning him. It was instructing what was going to happen.
They gave him an hour to decide. He spent most of it pacing back and forth on the training grounds, the chill of the air biting at his skin under his clothing. Aric showed up halfway through. "If you travel by caravan, you save resources. If you use the village route, you save lives now—but maybe kill more later.""That's not being helpful.""I'm not here to make it simple. The Script didn't indicate which one was better, did it?""No. Only that I'd have to make a decision."Aric's tone became slightly softer. "Then perhaps the lesson is to determine whether you can live with what you decide."
At the end of the hour, Elias returned to the map room. The Warden was sitting there, face unreadable."I decide the village," Elias said.Brynn's gaze softened nearly imperceptibly. The officer who'd argued for the caravan flinched but didn't speak.The Warden nodded sharply. "Then you and Brynn ride with the strike team. Aric will take the caravan route and try to bluff the raiders."Elias blinked. "That's a thing you can do?"Aric's smile was humorless. "Sometimes."
They left in advance of noon, riding hard along the northern hills. The air grew colder as they rode, clouds banked higher and higher above. Smoke was already rising from the edges of the village by the time they came in view. Carrion stalked through the streets—smaller than those Elias had fought before, but many and fast. Villagers were fighting with spears and axes, holding them back from the central square.
Brynn did not wait for orders. She and the soldiers rushed forward, their war cries echoing in the chaos. Elias lagged behind, sword ready. The first carrion leapt up at him on his side; he cut it up with a mad swinging blow, black ichor spraying. He kicked it from his sword and moved to cover a villager who'd fallen.
The Script appeared amid the battle. The Reader saves the boy at the well. The gate gives way. Elias had glanced in the direction of the center of the village, where a boy grasped the edge of a stone well, two carrion closing in. At the same time, he heard Brynn scream—at the front gate, the barricade was weakening beneath a wave of beasts.
One or many. His choice was here, not in the map room.
His legs were in front of his brain. He charged at the well, slashing down the first carrion in a wide sweep. The second whirled on him with a snarl, claws raking. He sidestepped its swipe and plunged his knife into its chest.The boy fell into his arms, crying. "Thanks!"Elias didn't answer—he was already running for the gate.
Too late. The barricade collapsed under the weight of the carrion pack. Brynn and the soldiers were suddenly overwhelmed, their line broken as the beasts poured through. Elias shoved the boy to a villager clutching a spear. "Run!" He ran toward the gate, the cold air burning his lungs.
He caught up with Brynn as a carrion lunged at her back. His sword struck mid-air, the blow nearly bending the blade from his hand. She jerked her head in a sharp agreement before cutting another down.
A further ten minutes of brutal fighting saw the carrion forced back. By that time, the street was drenched in black ichor and blood. Several of the soldiers lay still among the bodies. The village was saved. But as Elias absorbed the dead with his gaze, the Warden's earlier words echoed in his mind—If the caravan is lost, the city starves.
They rode into the city the next day, and Aric was waiting for them at the gates. His expression was grave."The caravan?" Elias asked.Aric's head shook once. "Lost. Raiders burned the wagons."Brynn put a hand on Elias's shoulder. "You did the right thing."Elias was not so sure.
That night, the Script arrived. The Reader's first death occurs at the jaws of the beast. Elias closed his eyes. There was something about it that he already knew.