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Columns of soldiers blended into a never-ending silver serpent that snaked toward the eastern horizon. Crowds roared in celebration on the roadsides where the remaining snow had been cleared. They were Norlanders, and to them, death and glory were one. White rose petals and ribbons fell from the city gates, and children ran alongside the soldiers as far as they were permitted. Trumpeters on the walls sounded triumphant notes in time to the march. It was all too surreal to Nyori.
How can men going to kill other men produce such joy?
And yet, she was in their company as well. She gazed at Marcellus. He was in full gleaming armor, looking every inch the knight of legend as he discussed preparations with Fregeror.
"Crossbowmen from Feroch will join us on the road. Theron will meet us on the border of Hispalis with a host of his madmen. And the equipment?"
"Already be on the road a week past." Fregeror wore lamellar armor over a quilted gambeson, worn and notched from generational use. "We will no doubt catch up to the carriers on the way."
"Who will watch the city until Theron returns?"
"Theron does have many sons. His eldest remains, much to his regret. He holds the kingship if Theron should gain his glory."
Shiru approached. Marcellus nodded respectfully. "Shiru. You seem to have something on your mind."
Shiru dipped his head. "It is this battle, Marcellus. War is considered an art in my homeland, and few master it. Preparation is a key factor in whether your army will live or be destroyed. How can we be prepared when none has seen the realm of the enemy?"
Marcellus hesitated. "I ... share a link with one of the akhkharu. One that has allowed me an idea of what we are up against. I have seen their palace through her eyes. It isn't heavily fortified. No doubt they never expected to be besieged when it was constructed."
Nyori narrowed her eyes. "A link works two ways, Marcellus. If you can see through her eyes, what stops her from seeing through yours?"
Marcellus' smile was wolf-like. "She sees the Reaver when she looks through my eyes."
Shiru bowed his head in assent and asked no more questions, but Nyori had many of her own. She had not heard him mention such a link before, and his omission bothered her. Her foresight had all but vanished in Marcellus' presence. It was as though the darkness within him obscured everything like dirty fog. His face was as readable as stone, and he had not even blinked at the mention of the Reaver. When Nyori looked at him, she could almost hear the sound of the world tearing apart.
The atmosphere was potent with coiled violence. Creyshaw sat to one side with a mean squad of soldiers, handpicked and battle-tested. Garbed in battle leathers with a wicked-looking cutlass slung across his back, he looked once more like the pirate Marcellus fought in the past. Dradyn sat atop a shaggy mare beside the retired pirate, garbed in light mail under a leather cuirass.
Meshella arrived with her squad of women soldiers. They were nearly as vicious-looking as the men with as much armor and weapons. Fregeror donned a horned helmet and strapped a heavy double-bladed ax to his saddle. Han wore loose black garments covered by light armor. Twin sword handles jutted over his shoulders, and several nasty weapons were cunningly hidden on his person.
Marcellus' Honor Guard arrived, excited and eager. Marcellus nodded to the lieutenant.
"We ride."
The man barked out the order, and the banners unfurled. The Isbjorn of Norland, the Silver Horn, and another displaying three shields. The flag of the Companions, she had learned. Marcellus looked at it without comment. For a moment, she saw sadness in his eyes.
"Yes." Dradyn had a note of pride in his voice. "The Companions of Marcellus Admorran are reborn."
They rode through the gates in full glory, with the joyful cries of Norland carrying them along. She looked at the faces they passed, seeing the hope in their eyes. Many didn't even know the full truth of what they faced or the odds stacked against them. But they believed Marcellus would lead them to victory against their unseen assailants. She wondered how they would view him if he met with failure.
The roar of the crowd slowly faded as they went down the road. She turned for a last look at the gleaming city, which shimmered as if sculpted of the purest ice. The towering spires stretched toward the cloud-streaked sky, and the Isbjorn roared silently on the banners. It wasn't without a touch of regret that she turned away.
She didn't need any foresight to know that no such beauty lay ahead.