The Bonds Undone (Sequel to The Sword Unbroken)

Chapter Twenty Part II

Imalroc was back at the training camp at dawn with twenty pairs of fighters arrayed before him. They had run before the sun had broken over the trees, and he kept them working until they were sweating the dust beneath their feet into mud.

He dismissed them to the river after two of them keeled into the steaming ground. It was past the high afternoon time when they normally stopped fighting. He had run, and sparred and shouted and drilled, and there was still a restless current beneath his skin that would not be stemmed.

"Are you trying to take my title as most relentless task master?" Almatra propped an elbow on his shoulder.

"It was mostly just drills."

"Really?" Akivu stumped over to his other side, her clothes ringed with perspiration. "Because I heard that at sparring last night you destroyed forty Eastern battleboxers at once."

"And a tiger," Almatra added. "I heard there was a tiger."

"I heard the tiger was on fire—"

"Oh shut up, both of you," Imalroc said. "I...may have lost my temper slightly."

"Well, see that it happens more often. Everyone was bouncing with energy at my training this morning, desperate to fight like the great Imalroc." Akivu beamed at him. "You should spar with Martau. He's pretty quick."

"And just pretty," Almatra added with a smirk. "And he, along with half the damn camp, thinks you're quite—"

"Tefka's with the new recruits, isn't he?" Imalroc bulled through her remark before it could go any further. "Let's go see what we were sent."

Almatra muttered something about wanting to go to the river, but Imalroc set off for the other side of camp. The water would be full of soldiers, splashing about and laughing, and he was in a grim mood for such company.

The parade grounds were even more chaotic than usual, with massive supply wagons being unloaded amid the milling new additions to the army. Imalroc skirted the shouting soldiers tossing bags down a long line, and hopped up to sit on a barrel. He scanned the disorganized clusters of would-be soldiers.

"Blood so fresh you can practically smell it," Almatra grumbled, taking a seat beside him.

There weren't any battleboxers to pick out in this crowd. A lot of homespun linen and dirt-stained trousers. Some fool had brought a pitchfork. Imalroc arched an eyebrow at a pair of girls using their braids to swat at each other. Green as the trees.

"I think we should start training as soon as they've been assigned their banner," he announced. Akivu nodded fervently.

"Sweet Eternals, could she be any louder?" Almatra jerked her head toward the offending noise, which was coming from a stocky woman Imalroc could only partially see. He cocked his head to see around the tall man with copper hair standing—

Imalroc slid off the barrel.

His ears were ringing, lungs weightless, heart outside his chest.

"She's just excited to be here." Akivu's voice was muffled. "Imalroc? What's wrong?"

Almatra sprang down to stand beside him. "You look like you've seen—"

"Rerdas," Imalroc whimpered. He was moving forward like he was being towed on a chain. He had to be wrong. There was no possible way his huntmaster was here, standing in the middle of River, it had to be someone else, and if it was someone else his heart would shatter. If it didn't burst from hope alone. He wanted to run forward, but if he was wrong he needed this moment of possibility to last longer. He sifted through the recruits, eyes fixed on his target.