How and when he had fallen in love with her was a mystery to him, and in that way seemed typical of all the other changes in his life. Before he had not been sure whether or not those changes were for the best, but now—in the cold early morning of a new day, and perhaps a new era for the whole kingdom of Grenda Lear—he suddenly found himself willing to embrace the changes wholeheartedly. Lying there in the dark, the warm body of his beloved Jenrosa by his side, the future had started to take shape, and he could see a path through the turmoil to a brighter and happier life.
Kumul propped himself on one elbow and gazed down on Jenrosa’s sleeping face. She was like no other woman he had ever been with before. She actually loved him, and without reservation. Jenrosa did not seek power or influence or wealth; she wanted nothing but the chance to learn about herself and be with him.
Pride and loved swelled in Kumul and he leaned over to kiss Jenrosa’s forehead. Without waking, she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him down so his head rested between her breasts. He closed his eyes and felt himself slowly drift off to sleep again, his fading thoughts measured by the beat of her heart.
The grass was too green and the sky was too pale, and the landscape was closed in by forests and wooded hills and streams and creeks. Lynan felt a stranger in his own land.
His army had left behind the Barda River two days after crossing the Algonka Pass and was now deep into Hume. The supply wagons had slowed their rate of progress, but his scouts were roving far and wide. That morning two of them had returned with three of their opposites from the army of Grenda Lear whom they had killed in a night action only hours before.
Lynan felt almost too tense to think, and he wondered if this was how his father had felt before a battle. Perhaps, he thought, but Elynd Chisal never had to worry about the consequences of attacking his own people.
He heard riders approach, and looked up to see Kumul, Ager, and Jenrosa.
“You wanted to see us, lad?” Kumul asked.
Lynan was not sure how to say what he had to say to them. They knew—they must have known—what would happen once they crossed into the east, but how ready were they for the reality?
“We have made contact with Areava’s army,” he said at last. “They are only three or four hours’ march to the east of our position. Korigan is preparing our forces to attack.”
He let the words sink in. Ager and Jenrosa seemed frightened, and Kumul’s face had paled almost to the color of his own skin.
“Well, we knew it would come,” Kumul said huskily.
“It has to, my friend,” Lynan said, wishing he had words that could make it easier for all of them. “I know no other way to end this, not now.”
Kumul nodded stiffly, then said, “My lancers are ready. They’ll be no match for the knights of the Twenty Houses, but against any other regiment they’ll do fine.”
“Jenrosa?”
Jenrosa breathed deeply. “As Kumul says, it had to come.”
“And your magic? What does it say to you?”
Jenrosa had told no one except Kumul about her dream of Silona, not even Lasthear. “Sorrow, and ...” She closed her mouth. She could not tell Lynan what she had seen. The dream might have meant nothing.
“And?” Lynan urged.
“If my magic is true, you will soon have the Key of the Sword around your neck.”
Lynan’s eyes widened in surprise. “You saw this?”
“I think so. I think this is what my vision showed me.”
“And not the Key of the Scepter?” Ager said.
Jenrosa shook her head. “I did not see that.”
“What can it mean?” Ager asked.
“I do not know.”
“It is enough,” Lynan said. “To win the Key of the Sword, we must win the battle.”
“I cannot say,” Jenrosa said, answering Lynan’s unspoken question.
“Ager, do you ride with your clan?” Lynan asked.
“Of course.”
“Then stay with me in the center with Gudon and the Red Hands. Kumul, I want your lancers in reserve. The enemy will be expecting horse archers, though not in the number we have. The lancers will be an extra shock to them, perhaps the deciding one. The gods go with us.”
They silently regarded each other, each of them thinking something more should be said, but none knowing what it was. Kumul was the first to move, wheeling his horse around and galloping back to his lancers. Jenrosa followed him.
Ager gently tapped his horse’s flanks, then suddenly reined in. “Lynan, are you prepared for what comes after the battle? Because I’m not.”
Lynan did not know and wanted to answer truthfully, but said instead: “Yes.”
“Good,” Ager said, and then was gone as well.
Lynan felt nauseous and tired, and that somehow he was not only betraying the land of his birth but his friends as well.
“What’s that?” Edaytor asked, pointing back the way he and Olio had just come.
At first Olio did not see anything out of the ordinary. The dawn sky was a pale, washed-out blue, and in the distance he could see tiny pennants fluttering from the masts of ships in the harbor. Then he noticed a ruddiness in the skyline above the old quarter. “I don’t know.”
For a moment they stood there watching, and then at the same time they saw the lick of yellow flame leap from one roof.
“Oh, no,” Olio murmured.
Edaytor gripped his arm. “Go back to the palace and sound the alarm, your Highness. I will go with all speed to the Theurgias of Fire and Water. They can help.” Edaytor ran off with all the speed his large body would allow him.
Olio started running toward the palace when he heard the alarm. One of the guards must already have seen the flames.
He stopped. There was nothing more he could do there. He was needed in the old quarter. He turned around and ran back the other way.
The spasm came so quickly that Areava could not help the groan that escaped from her lips.
“Damn!” she shouted, surprising Doctor Trion and the midwife who hovered nearby.
“Your Majesty, are you all right?”
“Another contraction,” she said breathlessly. And then another wave of pain came. She pressed her lips together, but it was no good. She groaned again.
The midwife waited until the contractions had finished, then explored the queen again. Areava was so exhausted by the effort of controlling herself that she barely felt her.
“Two fingers’ span. Good.”
“What’s best?” Areava asked her.
“A span of around eight fingers. Then your daughter will be ready to come out.”
“Eight fingers! I have to wait for you to be able to shove—”
“Madam, please!” the midwife implored. “I do not shove—”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
One of her maids stood beside her and placed a damp cloth against her brow. It helped.
“Is the pain really so bad?” she asked patronizingly.
“Are you a virgin or something?” Areava said shortly.
The maid blushed.
“God, you are,” Areava breathed, and ridiculously felt like laughing. “And who’s ringing those bloody bells?”
* * *
As soon as Galen received the message from Sendarus, he turned the regiments of knights around and returned to the main portion of the army. They got there just over an hour later, when dew still covered much of the ground. He saw that the army was being deployed, facing west across a wide, mainly flat plain. Archers lined the rise midway across the plain, and the infantry were arrayed into loose columns behind them and were in the process of marching left and right along the line to form the flanks. Some cavalry was already positioned on the far left flank. Galen found Sendarus in deep conversation with Charion, and was pleased to see they were not shouting at each other as they had been for most of the time since leaving Daavis.