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Samderaudin, yet although he was supposed to be an ally, Dain could not help
but instinctively distrust him, as he did all enchanters of this kind.
The sorcereVs gaze burned into Dain. He lifted a bony, taloned finger in
admonition. Celebrate not yet, he said, his voice crackling and humming with
a resonance that spoke of spells and powers.
It was almost like listening to the tainted sword Tanengard, Dain thought. He
frowned, forcing himself not to be distracted, and said, You are
Much danger lies ahead, Samderaudin interrupted curtly. I have cast the
future, yet it remains unclear. There is betrayal to come. You have been
warned of this by Tobeszijian. Do you heed it?
Aye, Dain replied with a frown, conscious of the others exchanging swift
looks behind him. But I ve been betrayed already.
More is to come. More danger. More trials. Samderaudin leaned toward him,
and Dain had to fight himself not to draw back. Death lies heavy along your
path, Faldain.
Thank you for this warning, Dain forced himself to say courteously. I hope
your foretelling means that I will deal much death to others, and not find it
myself.
Alexeika gasped, but he did not glance at her.
The sorcerers expression did not change. His eyes were yellow and intensely
compelling. Dain felt the power emanating from them and found himself wanting
to babble all his secrets. Gritting his teeth, he resisted, and after a moment
the pressure eased.
There is more, Samderaudin said. He pointed at Truth-seeker. It protects
you with the power of the ancients. But you will face a choice, Faldain. Count
the risks before you decide. The reach of Ashnod can be very long.
Dain frowned, trying to fathom what the sorcerel meant. He opened his mouth to
ask questions, but without another word Samderaudin turned and glided out.
Dain hurried after him, ignoring those who called to him. But when he stepped
outside into the falling snow, the camp lay quiet and dark, and Samderaudin
was nowhere to be seen.
At dawn, the army marched forth. Romsalkin s banner of crimson and white
unfurled in the frosty air.
Matkevskiet s banner of sky blue and green flew beside it. The skulls tied to
a pole draped with islean pelts represented the tribe of Grethori, whom
Alexeika cursed and avoided at all times. Even the rabble carried streamers of
different colors to signify their regions. And above them all flew the
burgundy and gold pennon of the royal house of Nether.
When its heavy folds, creased and worn from long years of storage, shook free
and billowed forth in the wind, Romsalkin was visibly moved. Ah, to see it
fly again, he said to Dain, wiping his eyes. This does stir my heart.
Dain stared at it, seeing the hammer and lightning bolt depicted in gold
across a field of burgundy, and his heart was stirred too. Before him
stretched his army, a vast sea of faces cheering his name.
He lifted his arm in response and glanced at his generals. Let us ride to
war.
They marched to Grov, struggling against the obstacles of harsh weather and
inadequate provisions.
This was the wrong time of year to wage war, yet now that their course was
set, none of them was willing to wait for spring Dain because he was anxious
to rescue Pheresa, and the others because they had already waited too many
years to strike at the tyrant they hated.
They made no contact with the Mandrian army rumored to be on the march. The
scouts found no evidence of it. Romsalkin dismissed the rumor as a falsehood.
The journey became a sort of king s progress, for every pathetic village they
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passed by turned out to stare at them, sometimes in terror and sometimes in
hope. Dain would not let the Agyas loot such places, for clearly the people
were starving already. Instead, they plundered the royal storehouses in larger
towns.
I am the king, Dain declared. And I take what is mine!
Sometimes Muncel s soldiers put up token resistance; often they fled their
posts at the granaries.
Meanwhile, word of Dain s coming flashed from town to town, spreading across
the land with every woodcutter, every fur trapper, every merchant or peddler
who had not yet denned up for the long cold.
No help for it, Romsalkin would mutter, fretting at night when Dain and his
advisers met in the huge tent to plan strategies. Muncel has plenty of time
to prepare for us. We can lay siege to the city fortress or Belrad, if he
chooses to meet us there. He can defend it better.
Ought to take Belrad first, Matkevskiet suggested. Give him no bolt-hole.
Split off a detachment to see to that, Dain said. But I must take Grov
first. Tis the capital that must be claimed for my own.
Muttering, they would peer at the map again. The Nonkind worried both old
strategists terribly, for they claimed that Mun-cel had an entire auxiliary
force of soulless warriors, dead men who would fight without tiring or
stopping. And the cache of magicked armor and swords that Samderaudin had
indeed provided was insufficient to supply every man in Dain s force.
We need more sorcerels,
Matkevskiet kept saying glumly, squinting his one eye. Without them we ll be
outmatched.
Dain frowned at such pessimism. If Mandrians can fight Nonkind without magic
or even salt, who are we to bemoan what we haveT
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