Kijiah had done her best to answer all of Cascel's questions, and when their conversation ended, she turned to Cascel with tears dripping from her eyes.
"I did what the king told us to do. It's my fault for finding them. I made all of this happen," she sobbed.
"Oh, my dear girl," Cascel remarked, setting his hands to the sides of her face, and wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "You did nothing wrong. You did exactly what you were supposed to do. Never be afraid to do the right thing. None of this is your fault, regardless of what you tell yourself. Those men knew what they were doing was wrong, and they knew the consequences if they were caught."
"No," she sniffled, and shook her head, "you're wrong. They weren't men."
Cascel lowered his hands and knelt before Kijiah. "They weren't men?"
"Not all of them," she replied, lowering her eyes.
"I see. Perhaps, it would be best if you described to me, what you saw that day."
Cascel was patient as he listened to Kijiah tell him exactly what she saw, and when she was finished, he gave her a small pouch of sweets from the side pocket of his backpack, before having Levim carry her back to the infirmary where he'd found her.
Hutch could see that Cascel was seething. He'd grow rigid, his hands balled into fists, his natural scowl having deepened as his jaw clenched and his upper lip subtly twitched. He'd seen him this angry once before, but it had been many years.
"Hutch," he remarked, doing his best to hold back his emotion, "find Barhalis and General Swotep. I need to have a word with them."
It would take several minutes for Hutch to track down the generals, but when they returned to the longhouse, Levim was already waiting with Cascel.
Barhalis groaned as they moved in closer to the table. "I don't like the look of this. What's happened?"
"They weren't poachers," Cascel stated, losing his grip on his stoic demeanor. "If the chief wasn't already dead, I would have him gutted. He executed an elderly man, and four women dressed as men. The carcasses weren't even fresh. They weren't poachers, they were sacrifices!"
The generals were stunned as Cascel paced, frustrated, next to the table.
"The refugees," Barhalis dared to utter, "It can't be a coincidence."
"No," Cascel remarked, having calmed down enough to refocus his attention, "I suspect it isn't. Which means they have had spies and scouts in our country for months. Swotep, how many men can you have ready to move by nightfall without leaving this place undefended?"
"Eighteen warriors and two banners, but depending on what you need them for, I could short us here and take more out of rotation."
"No, that's probably more than would be needed. Going with the full amount that would leave us with one hundred and fourteen men, eight of which are banners," Cascel muttered as he began to jot down notes. "How many empty wagons are there?"
"None, currently," Levim replied, "but that can be remedied."
"Five. Have five emptied, then start filling two of them with as many empty barrels, pots, vases… I don't actually care as long as whatever it is can hold water. Have the villagers help. They will need to be hitched and ready by nightfall. Have the other two stuffed full with as many children and woman as you can fit, leaving the fifth for any of the injured who can safely travel, and will survive the trip to the Owlehom village. Barhalis, have Cedej ride ahead to inform the Chief of the evacuees. Swotep, I'll leave you to decide how many soldiers you send, but their mission will be to head north of Owlehom into the woods, Cedej can show them where, to capture every last one of those so-called Gaellenok refugees. If they resist, I recommend killing them."
"Kill? Now, hold on a minute," Hutch blurted out. "There are children in that camp."
"Tools to keep their cover," Cascel stated, shaking his head. "What's your point?"
"Apparently, I don't have one."
Barhalis huffed, backhanding Hutch in his chest. "Mind your place, Taju. This is war. If you haven't the stomach for the work, this is no place for you."
"I gave you orders, Hutch," Cascel stated, as Hutch rubbed at his chest. "They haven't changed. See them done."
Hutch bowed his head, saying, "Sir," before turning and leaving the longhouse. As he made his way towards the pasture, he knew that Barhalis had been right. He had been out of line and should have known to keep his mouth shut. This was a war, and the Gaellenok were the enemy. Even refugees needed to be vetted, to ensure everyone's safety.
Having tacked both his and Cascel's eranth, he retrieved the rope and hooks from their wagon, and returned to the longhouse, the generals having already left to carry out whatever orders they had agreed upon.
"Hey," Hutch began fighting against his pride as he stepped further into the room, "yeah, so, I'm sorry about before. I shouldn't have interrupted you."
Gathering his backpack and hat, Cascel remained silent until he stood in front of Hutch.
"Hutch, I'm fine with you sharing your objections or questioning my strategies. I've even come to value your unique insight, but I need you to understand that it puts me, and Barhalis, in a very difficult position when you voice them in front of others, especially the generals. I can't have my supposed subordinates openly questioning my strategies. I'm more than capable of amending my tactics, but I cannot afford to have the generals questioning them from the start. This only works when they have absolute faith in my abilities to consider every possible outcome and make my recommendations accordingly." Setting his hand onto Hutch's shoulder, he stared him in the eyes. "I need you to have that same faith in me. When it matters most and you are at my side, I need you to have confidence in what I ask of you and of those around us."
Hutch nodded, as his chest tightened. He could see the disappointment in Cascel's eyes, and it was the last thing he ever wanted to see. Over the years, Cascel had gone out of his way to make his life easier. It was because of him that Hutch was even in the first division, despite his poor evaluations and his lack of size. Cascel wasn't just his mentor, but he was also his friend, and brother at-arms.
"I get it," he muttered. "I understand."
"I really hope you do, Hutch," Cascel said, patting his shoulder. "Because it can't happen again. Not with this situation being as serious as it is. Now, if you're ready, we need to go. Time is of the essence."
Together, Hutch and Cascel mounted up and rode north out of the village, following the rudimentary map, Cascel had drawn. Heading deeper into the forest, they found the footpath they had been looking for and followed it directly to the pond they sought.
The moment they arrived, Cascel's assumptions were confirmed. While the pond appeared quite large on the surface, it was far shallower than it appeared. It was full of an age's worth of decaying forest debris, and all but a few feet of the center, was overgrown with aquatic weeds. The water was unsurprisingly clear, but in much of it, a thick layer of slimy green algae was in bloom. However, it was the smell emanating from the pond itself at the slightest disturbance of the water that spoke of how stagnant and contaminated it was.
Making their way around to the north bank, where an area of the weeds had been visibly damaged, they discovered, just below the glass-like surface, tied down with braided ropes, the remains of several rotting, dismembered Sajomei, their pieces in bundles of blood-stained cloth, their severed heads, left visible, staring vacantly up at the surface.
"Do you still disagree with rounding them up?" Cascel questioned as he turned away from the ghostly faces in the water.
"You're jumping to conclusions, we don't know who did this," Hutch retorted, following behind Cascel as he headed towards their eranth.
"You don't, but I do!" Cascel snapped, turning back to face him. "The braided ropes and the undyed cloth, just like the so-called refugees use and wear, the same as the supposed poacher's Kijiah described. The Gaellenok are willing to fake a lot, but the one they won't fake, is the way they handle their dead. They cover the bodies, but never the faces."
"Right, so the Gaellenok are responsible for this, but why? What the hell is the point to any of that? Without the river the tribe wasn't going to be able to stay here for long as it is."
"It's not about the Euqwenah," Cascel replied, as he climbed onto his mounts back, "it's about the chorp and the forest. If they can get rid of the tribe and prevent the army from being able to take back the region, they will be able to hand over one of the most important resources we have directly to the nobles of Jeq."
"And that would be?" Hutch asked, as he followed suit, before turning his eranth and following Cascel down the footpath back in the direction of the village.
"Two things, myrrget and puffball mushrooms. The myrrget is a base ingredient in the rituals and potions for several schools of magic. The most important being healing and protection. No myrrget, and our bannerman become little more than basic medics. And the puffballs are required to make pain medication, and only grow because of the chorp. No more chorp, no more puffballs, and people like Kijiah will have no more pain relief. And those bastards would have hunted the chorp to extinction three decades ago if we hadn't put a stop to them!"
Forcing his eranth into a quicker pace, the last thing Hutch heard before doing the same to catch up, was Cascel shouting back at him, "We cannot allow the Gaellenok to take control of this forest!"