east with Gerald.
One hundred and fifty Tervingi horsethains brought up the rear, Earnachar son of Balnachar riding proudly at their head. When the Tervingi crossed the Great Mountains and invaded the Grim Marches, the Tervingi thains had fought either on foot or upon the backs of their war mammoths. Their lack of horsemen allowed Lord Richard to defeat them at Stone Tower, and Mazael to overcome Ragnachar in the moments before Lucan unleashed the Great Rising.
But Earnachar and Arnulf and the other Tervingi headmen had begun training horsemen of their own, swearing warriors into their service as horsethains.
It was just as well. If Lucan had gathered a horde of runedead, Mazael would need every warrior he could find.
“Mazael,” said Romaria. “I see them.”
Mazael nodded and gave the command to halt.
To the west, he saw a dark mass coming closer.
###
Romaria stood up her stirrups and stared west.
Her senses had always been sharp. Her father had been Athaelin Greenshield, Champion of Deepforest Keep, but her mother had been Elderborn. And from her mother Romaria had inherited the keen senses of the Elderborn…and the earth magic that would eventually devour her mind and transform her into a beast.
Or so Romaria had thought.
She had struggled against her Elderborn nature all her life, but she had faced herself in the caverns below Mount Tynagis. Now the two sides of her soul existed in harmony. When she wore the form of the beast, the form of the wolf, her senses were supernaturally keen, but even in her human form, she could clearly.
She looked at Mazael, and for an instant glimpsed the image of a pale woman in black hovering near him.
Ever since she had recovered from Skalatan’s venom, she had begun…seeing things.
Visions. Premonitions. Flickers of the past. For a time Romaria had thought she was going mad, that Skalatan’s poison or Riothamus’s magic had damaged her brain, but she did not think so. She knew what madness felt like, and this was not it.
Then what was happening to her?
She pushed the thought out of her mind. She could consider it later.
When there wasn’t a small army of animated corpses coming for Castle Cravenlock.
“Toric was right,” said Romaria, gazing at the dark mass. “At least a thousand of the runedead. Maybe more. Sigils of crimson fire on their foreheads.”
“Then they are Lucan’s,” said Mazael.
He remained calm, bearded face impassive, but Romaria knew her husband well enough to see his fury. He has trusted Lucan, despite Romaria and Rachel and Molly warning him against it, and Lucan had betrayed him. Mazael blamed himself for the Great Rising, for all the atrocities Lucan had worked since stealing the Glamdaigyr.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, voice quiet enough that only he could hear it.
“No,” said Mazael, “but the consequences are still my responsibility. How far away?”
“About three miles, I think,” said Romaria. “They’ll reach us within the hour.”
“Good,” said Mazael.
“There’s something else,” said Romaria. “I think…I think one of the runedead is on fire.”
“On fire?” Mazael frowned. “The runedead are impervious to normal steel, but fire harms them.”
Romaria shrugged. “I think one of the runedead is burning. A runedead wizard, perhaps?”
Mazael cursed. “The last thing we need. Awakened runedead are bad enough.”
“And the wizards are worse,” said Romaria, settling back into her saddle.
“Aye,” said Mazael. “This is what we’ll do.”
###
Gerald Roland walked his horse to join the others clustered around Mazael. Romaria and Molly waited there, Molly fingering her dragon’s tooth dagger. The Tervingi wizard, the Guardian, waited at Mazael’s right, along with a short keg of a Tervingi man who had announced that his name was Earnachar son of Balnachar and that the sons of mighty Tervingar would smite the runedead. The Tervingi seemed like a wild lot, and
One hundred and fifty Tervingi horsethains brought up the rear, Earnachar son of Balnachar riding proudly at their head. When the Tervingi crossed the Great Mountains and invaded the Grim Marches, the Tervingi thains had fought either on foot or upon the backs of their war mammoths. Their lack of horsemen allowed Lord Richard to defeat them at Stone Tower, and Mazael to overcome Ragnachar in the moments before Lucan unleashed the Great Rising.
But Earnachar and Arnulf and the other Tervingi headmen had begun training horsemen of their own, swearing warriors into their service as horsethains.
It was just as well. If Lucan had gathered a horde of runedead, Mazael would need every warrior he could find.
“Mazael,” said Romaria. “I see them.”
Mazael nodded and gave the command to halt.
To the west, he saw a dark mass coming closer.
###
Romaria stood up her stirrups and stared west.
Her senses had always been sharp. Her father had been Athaelin Greenshield, Champion of Deepforest Keep, but her mother had been Elderborn. And from her mother Romaria had inherited the keen senses of the Elderborn…and the earth magic that would eventually devour her mind and transform her into a beast.
Or so Romaria had thought.
She had struggled against her Elderborn nature all her life, but she had faced herself in the caverns below Mount Tynagis. Now the two sides of her soul existed in harmony. When she wore the form of the beast, the form of the wolf, her senses were supernaturally keen, but even in her human form, she could clearly.
She looked at Mazael, and for an instant glimpsed the image of a pale woman in black hovering near him.
Ever since she had recovered from Skalatan’s venom, she had begun…seeing things.
Visions. Premonitions. Flickers of the past. For a time Romaria had thought she was going mad, that Skalatan’s poison or Riothamus’s magic had damaged her brain, but she did not think so. She knew what madness felt like, and this was not it.
Then what was happening to her?
She pushed the thought out of her mind. She could consider it later.
When there wasn’t a small army of animated corpses coming for Castle Cravenlock.
“Toric was right,” said Romaria, gazing at the dark mass. “At least a thousand of the runedead. Maybe more. Sigils of crimson fire on their foreheads.”
“Then they are Lucan’s,” said Mazael.
He remained calm, bearded face impassive, but Romaria knew her husband well enough to see his fury. He has trusted Lucan, despite Romaria and Rachel and Molly warning him against it, and Lucan had betrayed him. Mazael blamed himself for the Great Rising, for all the atrocities Lucan had worked since stealing the Glamdaigyr.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, voice quiet enough that only he could hear it.
“No,” said Mazael, “but the consequences are still my responsibility. How far away?”
“About three miles, I think,” said Romaria. “They’ll reach us within the hour.”
“Good,” said Mazael.
“There’s something else,” said Romaria. “I think…I think one of the runedead is on fire.”
“On fire?” Mazael frowned. “The runedead are impervious to normal steel, but fire harms them.”
Romaria shrugged. “I think one of the runedead is burning. A runedead wizard, perhaps?”
Mazael cursed. “The last thing we need. Awakened runedead are bad enough.”
“And the wizards are worse,” said Romaria, settling back into her saddle.
“Aye,” said Mazael. “This is what we’ll do.”
###
Gerald Roland walked his horse to join the others clustered around Mazael. Romaria and Molly waited there, Molly fingering her dragon’s tooth dagger. The Tervingi wizard, the Guardian, waited at Mazael’s right, along with a short keg of a Tervingi man who had announced that his name was Earnachar son of Balnachar and that the sons of mighty Tervingar would smite the runedead. The Tervingi seemed like a wild lot, and
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