“After the storm, when we thought Lady Reva lost, I doubted the Father’s purpose in bringing us here. At Alltor everything had been so clear, she seemed to shine with His love. But if He could take her from us, how could He bless this endeavour? I thought perhaps it might be punishment, a judgement on our willingness to ally with you. Now I see how foolish that was.
Hearing the certainty with which he coloured every word Lyrna resisted the impulse to ask if, in fact, her Lord of Archers worshipped a goddess rather than a god. “She is a truly great soul,” she said. “I long to see her again.”
She inclined her head and moved away but Antesh reached out, his hand stopping just short of her sleeve. “Highness, if I may. I know you have no belief in the Father, in truth I doubt you have much truck with your own Faith either. But know, although you may not feel his love, he gives it nonetheless.”
Lyrna found herself beset by the unfamiliar sensation of not knowing what to say. She had never been comfortable around displays of devotion; her infrequent meetings with the late Aspect Tendris had been a considerable trial, as had her exchanges with Aspect Caenis, though he had provoked as much pity as discomfort.
“Be sure to thank him for me,” she told Antesh, putting an edge of finality into her tone and turning away.
“There was one other thing, Highness,” he said, moving to her side, then drawing back as Iltis gave a huff of warning. “Lady Reva,” Antesh went on, “I worry she might become hostage to our intentions. By all accounts this vile Empress of theirs will not baulk at putting her to death should we attack Volar.”
“So you have a stratagem? Some means of securing her release?”
“Indeed I do.”
Antesh hesitated before sinking to one knee and pressing his lips to her hand. “I shall, Highness.”
• • •
The following days saw the rolling hills flatten into undulating farmland, much of it dominated by fields of redflower, stretching away like an endless crimson carpet broken by the occasional villa or small town, most showing signs of hasty abandonment. This region also held another singular distinction in the poles with which the Empress had chosen to adorn the road.
“Little wonder they won’t fight for her,” Baron Banders commented, squinting up at one of the rotting corpses dangling above. “Could be we’ll have a clear road all the way to Volar.”
Lyrna gazed ahead at the long procession of poles disappearing into the distance, discerning a faint pall of dust rising above the horizon. “I doubt the Empress intends our passage to be an easy one.”
Al Hestian had sent the Sixth Order ahead that morning and Brother Sollis soon returned to report the approach of a host some seventy thousand strong. “About half Varitai, by my estimation,” he said. “They’re a more ragged lot than we’re used to. I suspect the Empress has commandeered every privately owned slave soldier in the region. The Free Swords don’t seem much better, old men and boys mostly. However, their cavalry is another matter, keeping in good order and patrolling the flanks with keen eyes. We were lucky to return without being seen.”
“No Kuritai or Arisai?” Lyrna asked.
“None that I could see, Highness.”
“The temple taught us a hard lesson,” Al Hestian said. “We can expect them to have hidden their elite among the fodder.”
“In any case it’s suicide,” Nortah commented, shaking his head. “There are well over a hundred thousand souls in this army now, and growing by the day.”
“If our enemy is intent on their own destruction,” Lyrna said, “I am more than happy to oblige. Battle Lord, you will wish to make your dispositions.”
• • •
