5

They let me out of my bed two days later. When I walked out of the ger, what I saw amazed me. The buzzing city of tents was gone. In its place, a crazy maze of mud and grass crisscrossed a large meadow. In the distance, the Dina’s offering to Tor, a tower of bodies topped by a large banner bearing his symbol, marked the location of the battle. I gazed out at the emptiness, wondering.

“Who were the peasants?”

The Mask’s question surprised me. I hadn’t even realized that he was standing next to me. “I didn’t know all of them. Some of them were the people of my village.”

“The call to arms was raised about an hour after you fainted. The King’s Cavalry took the left flank. The Dina took the right flank. Archers and infantry made up the center, with pike men at the front, archers just behind them, and heavy infantry in the back. The cavalry herded all of the peasants into a mass in the center, and pike men pushed them forward. Because of that, our archers were able to rain destruction down upon the Heffian front ranks while they were trying to defend themselves from the fear-crazed peasants. Those peasants won the battle for us, but I don’t think a single one of them survived.”

“Most of them belonged to Mora. Doesn’t the khasar fear her wrath?”

“I am the khasar’s mask, Ian, not his mind or his soul. I don’t know what he fears, but I’m not sure that he even believes in Mora.”

My mouth must have looked unhinged when he said that. In my village, everyone belonged to Mora, except the smith, of course, who belonged to Festion. I knew that there were people, like the Dina, who belonged to Tor, but I had never heard of anyone who didn’t fear the gods. Everybody believed in Mora. Didn’t they?

I felt the Mask’s hand on my shoulder, steering me back toward the tent. He sighed. “Don’t worry. Mora always gets her due. We have to get on the road. We’re supposed to catch up to the khasar before the army reaches Belkeep.”