The rain had come and gone, leaving an iron-grey sky and rising creeks. On the third morning, Kevin noticed the moss on the trees was telling a story he didn't like.
"We're headed the wrong way," Kevin said to Morley as they rode past a gnarled elm. "We're tracking south. Look at the moss on the roots."
He pushed his damp, brown hair away from his eyes. "The road turns south here, that's all. We're following the path."
We've been heading south all day, Kevin wanted to say. Yesterday too, ever since we left the riverbed. But he hadn't checked the moss then, so he kept his silence.
"I think we're lost," he whispered eventually. "We shouldn't have left the river. We should have followed the water."
"The river was winding like a snake," Morley countered. "Lrand says this is a shortcut only the outlaws know. He and Tom have lived in these woods for years."
Kevin bit back his frustration. He was a Sunwalker, but these weren't his men. He was a guest of the Brotherhood Without Banners, and as Aldric had told him: Provide help where you can, but do not try to take the lead.
Since the battle at Fisher's Manor, the Sunwalkers had proven their worth. Lord Beric Dondarrion's men had seen miracles; after a bloody siege, not a single man had died, and thanks to the Sunwalkers' Sun-Mend, not even a scar remained. It was a sliver of light in a desperate struggle.
To maximize their utility, Lord Beric had split the eleven Sunwalkers into pairs, assigning them to different guerrilla cells across the Riverlands. Kevin and Morley had been assigned to the squad led by Lrand Gerard.
Lrand was a veteran caravan guard, older than Aldric, with a jagged scar across his face that made him look a decade past his years. Despite his appearance, he was a jovial soul who loved a good jest. He'd even asked Kevin to heal his old scar, only to be disappointed when Kevin explained that the Light could not undo what had already turned to permanent leather.
Lrand's squad moved between Acorn Hall and the Blackwater, sheltering in the forests and checking on the villages. They scavenged ruins, trading salvaged pots and tools for bread and a floor to sleep on.
Two days ago, they had arrived at a village on the south bank of the Maiden's Loop. They found only ash.
In the silence, Kevin stepped over the charred skeletons of cottages. Hanging from a row of apple trees were a dozen villagers. Their bodies were stiff; they hadn't been dead more than a few days.
Morley knelt in the mud, whispering prayers to Anshe, over and over.
Lrand rode under the swinging bodies and plucked a ripe apple from a branch. It was rotten, pulpy with worms, but he ate it anyway. He looked at his men. "How many times have we been here?"
"Three," a man in a grey tunic replied.
"And has any man here not tasted Aunt Jenna's apple cakes?"
Kevin and Morley raised their hands. Lrand nodded solemnly.
"I remember once," Lrand mused, "the Lions were snapping at our heels. We found this place in the rain. Old Uncle Calum welcomed us with a roaring hearth and a full pot. Now... they're crow-feed. I don't care who did this. We find them, and we end them."
He looked at the squad. "Ked, Bevan, Jonas—get them down. Find a house that isn't completely gutted and lay them inside. When we catch the bastards, we'll come back and give them a proper burial. The rest of you, prep the grain. We ride until we find them."
As they worked, Kevin walked the village. Every home had been ransacked. No grain left, no silver. And no survivors. Not even the babes in their mothers' arms had been spared.
"Have you seen the like?" Lrand asked, coming up behind him.
Kevin looked at the wreckage. He was young, but he had spent a year in the shadow of the Lightbringer. "Many times. Don't think me a green boy, Lrand."
Lrand smiled, his beard twitching. "Before this war, I hadn't seen a dozen such sights in my life." His face went dark. "Now, the people are slaughtered like sheep, while the men who kill them scream about 'The King's Honor.' Is honor truly dyed in the blood of the poor?"
They tracked the killers for two days. Tom, their best woodsman, led the way. The wind bit at them, swirling brown leaves around their horses' hooves. The sun broke through the clouds, bright and blinding, forcing Kevin to pull his visor low.
On the third day, the trail went cold. The killers had sensed a pursuit and were masking their tracks. They were near another village—a possible supply point. Lrand feared the killers would hit it next and decided to garrison the place for a few days.
Just as Kevin was about to suggest they push the horses harder, Tom rode back from the scouts. "Lrand! A dozen men ahead. Armed."
"The killers?" Lrand asked, hand on his mace.
"Can't say," Tom replied. "They have archers, and I didn't want a shaft in the eye. But they're wearing surcoats. A Lord's men."
Lrand turned to the squad. "A dozen soldiers in these woods are a plague. We see who they are. If they're friends, we help them move on. If they're enemies, we send them to the Stranger."
They spurred their horses, closing the distance. Ahead, a group of soldiers heard the thunder of hooves and snapped into a defensive formation.
Lrand raised his shield. "Who do you serve? Why are you on this road?"
"None of your damn business!" a rough voice shouted back. "Who are you to bar our way?"
The outlaws of the Brotherhood began to shout back, but Kevin stared at the soldiers' formation. He felt a jolt of recognition. Shieldmen in the front, pikes and bows in the center, wings guarded by light skirmishers. It was a Swan Wing—Aldric's own creation.
Then he saw the surcoats. They weren't the Golden Dawn. They were Karstark men—black surcoats with white sunbursts.
"Conrad?" Kevin called out, riding to the front of the Brotherhood.
The leader of the soldiers froze. "Kevin Turner? From the Finger? What in the seven hells are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same," Kevin said. "I thought you followed the Young Wolf into the West."
Lrand frowned. "You know these men?"
"I do," Kevin said, his voice flat. "Conrad, Cain, Gili... we were brothers once."
Lrand didn't care for sentiment. "Four days ago, a village was slaughtered. Men, women, and babes. Was it you?"
Conrad scowled. "Four days ago? I don't know what you're talking about! We're on the King's business, tracking the Kingslayer. We haven't touched a village. If you're hunting bandits, we'll help you hang them, but don't look at us."
Lrand turned to Kevin. "Can you vouch for them?"
If this had been before the night at Oxcross, Kevin would have died for these men. But that night had changed everything. They had chosen the coin of the Karstarks; Kevin had chosen the Sun.
"I won't vouch for them, Lrand," Kevin said. "Their lives are in your hands. Do what you must."
A young soldier behind Conrad, a boy named Norris who had fought beside Kevin at Wisteria Village, cried out. "Captain Kevin! You know us! We bled together! You're going to let these outlaws take us?"
"I thought I knew you, Norris," Kevin said. "But after Oxcross, I realized I didn't know you at all."
"Aldric abandoned us!" Norris shouted. "We're mercenaries, Kevin! we came out to earn coin for our families, not to play saints for every stranger on the road!"
"Enough, Norris!" Conrad snapped. He looked at Lrand. "We're Stark men. We're hunting Jaime Lannister. Our paths don't cross. Why not let us pass?"
Lrand looked at the Karstark men, then at Kevin's cold face. "I don't trust soldiers wandering the Riverlands without a Lord to leash them. If you want to go back to Riverrun, go. But if you keep moving south, I'm following you to make sure the smallfolk stay safe."
Conrad's face went pale. Jaime Lannister was worth a thousand dragons and a Karstark daughter. If these outlaws dogged his heels, his prize would be gone.
"Kevin," Conrad pleaded, his voice dropping. "We were brothers. Don't let them do this. If your Master were here, he wouldn't be this cruel."
"My Master is too soft-hearted sometimes," Kevin said. "Lrand, disarm them. If you don't want to kill them and you don't want to let them go, take them to the monastery. Let the Lightbringer decide if they're worth saving."
Lrand frowned. "To St. Maur's?"
Kevin nodded. "My Master has a way of knowing the truth. If they're innocent, he'll find them a use. If they're guilty... they'll wish they'd faced your mace."
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