The streets were quiet, empty, with only a few people looking out from doorways and windows.
Normally, the main road in Highever would be crowded with tradesmen and sellers hawking wares. But the air here was thick with dread and sorrow. The Blight had taken what it had.
Rendon Howe had taken the rest.
The tall towers of Castle Cousland loomed just ahead, dark stone jutting into the overcast sky. The banners that flew above the ramparts bore the brown bear. Only a few soldiers walked the tall walls. The gates had been shut for months, no one coming in, only few going out.
Above the gates, several decomposing bodies were still strung up by their necks.
Several adults.
One child.
His child.
Fergus Cousland rolled his fingers into a fist, his eyes locked on the small frame of the child, hanging lifeless, flesh rotted and mottled, wounds of where birds had picked skin and muscle from bones.
The column of soldiers stopped behind him in the marketplace as he stared down the gates of the castle. His home. His land. His right. His horror.
The few guards atop the walls scurried in alarm, shouting and running back and forth over the battlements. They blew horns and rang bells and staked up at the walls with bows and crossbows in hand.
Fergus had called every available man still sworn to his family. King Alistair had provided a legion of soldiers. Bann Alfstanna had called what forces were left from Waking Sea. Arl Bryland brought every man left from the shattered South Reach. Bann Franderel of West Hill did not come himself, but sent a wing of his keep's well-trained archers. And the Chasind allies he had forged in the south were here.
He would tear down every stone of the castle if needed in order to furrow out the Howe rats.
The archers on the walls were shouting and then suddenly withdrew. There were more horns blowing from within the castle. Within a minute, there were no soldiers on the walls.
"They're withdrawing," Arl Bryland said, stepping up next to Fergus. Leonas had served in the rebellion with both his father and Howe. His sister had married Rendon, birthed his children. But Leonas had fiercely denounced the cowardly attack and pledged his support to the Couslands, even as darkspawn burned and killed everything in his lands in the south. "I wager they'll flee out of the postern gate."
Fergus' eyes were locked on the swaying corpses hanging from the walls. They were so badly gone that he couldn't make out the shapes, not from this distance. His father, his mother, Aedan and Oriana were surely there somewhere. But he could only stare at the small boy, the only one he knew, just by the size.
Oren. His boy.
"Intercept them," Fergus ordered, his fist shaking at his hip as he stared at the hanging boy. His boy. He raised his voice, shouting loud enough so that every soldier behind him could hear him with clear intent. "I want every Howe! I want them all and I want them alive! Every last one!"
Leonas nodded. "You heard the Teyrn!"
The soldiers hooted in acknowledgment and their lines spilled forward, hundreds of soldiers charging the castle, armor clattering as they rushed forward, horses streaking past ahead of the foot soldiers.
Fergus did not move as the waves of fighters streamed past him. He did not attack.
He stood.
Staring.