When they were two days out from Meyathal, just before noon, a strange thing happened. Up until then the sky had been wide and clear, as only the open skies of the Anthorian plains can be. Suddenly the sky turned from blue to a slate grey. The sun seemed to lose its brightness. The horses noticed it and became skittish. Then, just as people were trying to control their horses, they were plunged into night as if something had swallowed the sun. People screamed with fright, animals panicked and a sudden blast of howling wind tore across them from the north. In a moment the sun returned and the wind faded as quickly as it had risen. It left Menish blinking with surprise and wonder, and he shivered when he thought of that wind. In its howl there had been something like a cry of despair.
But the incident did not stop them for long. Vorish said that it was an omen of good fortune, the fire of the sun had turned away from them to show that the fire of Gashan would also turn away from them in the battle. It was the kind of thing people wanted to hear and each thanked whatever gods they worshipped for this sign.
As for Drinagish’s guard, Menish did not see very much of it. Drinagish had collected a few of his friends, including Neathy who had agreed to be his standard bearer now, and Athun met them every day for training. They rose early each day and rode to the place where they would camp that night. The rest of the company moved more slowly, hampered by cattle, wagons and infantry. By the time they arrived at the camp Drinagish and his guard had received several hours of instruction from Athun. Neathy seemed delighted with the standard.
Shortly after the odd darkness Vorish sent a team of engineers on ahead to Gildenthal, accompanied by Anthorian guides. They were to proceed from there to the battlefield to check the accuracy of Vorish’s map, and to prepare Drinagish’s fire. Several carried large gourds that Menish noticed and asked Vorish about.
“They contain the pitch.”
“How do you carry pitch in a gourd? It's too sticky.”
“We've found a way to make it flow like water,” said Vorish. “It burns better too.”
“And you just happened to have some with you on a journey to fight Gashans?”
“Of course,” said Vorish with exaggerated innocence. “It's standard equipment.”
Menish and Adhara took to walking together in the evenings to get away from the pressure of people in the camp. Often they would walk long into the night and be weary the next day. He had always loved Adhara, but now that there were no secrets between them he found the flame burning anew. More than ever he did not want to lose this battle, he did not want to die. He wanted Adhara.
It took less than a month to reach Gildenthal, and as they travelled the weather grew cooler. Spring was slower coming to the northern lands. But, except for the desert, the ground was covered with the green mantle of spring. Here and there lay the remains of a late snowfall.
As they rode into Gildenthal Menish was heavy-hearted. His leg ached again after the journey although he had taken care of it. There were thousands of people to greet him. But Menish saw them all consumed in flames.
When they had set up their camp Vorish came to Menish’s tent alone. “Come in, Vorish. Have some ambroth.”
“Thank you,” he poured it himself and sat down on the rug. “Your people seem settled.”
“I think so. Are yours?”
“Yes, it was a good idea to put them on the games field.”
“There's not much other flat ground to spare around here, except right beside the river. But you can get sudden floods down there.”
“Where's Adhara?”
“Some fool wanted to pitch his tents in one of the wheat fields, she and Bolythak have gone to see what damage has been done. We're not that short of flat ground. My leg's sore so I left them to it.”
“Sensible,” nodded Vorish. “You should have got them to build a fire for you before they went. Here, let me.”
“No, no. I can light my own fire,” said Menish, getting up and wincing with pain.
“So you say,” said Vorish as he continued setting up the fire beneath the smoke hole in the top of the tent. “You'll need to be better by this evening if you expect to address your folk.”
“You're right,” said Menish, settling back onto a cushion. “A few moments of warmth normally restores me.” He watched Vorish for a moment as he laid the fire and lit it. It reminded him of the years before they fought Thealum when Vorish had lived at Meyathal, or travelled with him around Anthor. “It's good to have you here, Vorish. I'm pleased about what happened at Meyathal, that everyone now knows. I am not proud of what I did with Thalissa, but I am proud to have you as my son.”
Vorish smiled.
“Who could want for a better father? How's Adhara? Are things right between you?”
“Oh yes. We talked it over. I wish she had been your mother. She deserves a son like you.”
“You embarrass me with this talk, Menish. I thought of her as my mother from the time I arrived in Meyathal, or soon after. She was cool to me at first, for obvious reasons, but it didn't last. I remember her teaching me to wrestle like the Anthorians because the boys my age kept picking on me and I couldn't match them. She came looking for me when I didn't return to Meyathal one evening because my horse had thrown me and I was hurt.”
“Yes, I remember that. She did much the same for Althak, and for Neathy.”
“Have you seen Drinagish lately?”
“When have I been able? He's been with Athun and his friends most of the day. He's slept in my tent a few times, but he's been too tired to tell me much. I thought he was impressed with Athun, though.”
“Athun has been teaching them the trumpet signals, among other things. I was thinking that a display of their new skills would be in order. You could do it this evening before your speech. It would be more interesting than a sword dance.”
“Really? What did you have in mind?”
“Some precision riding, the kind of thing Anthorians do all the time, but with a difference. They respond to trumpet signals. Athun developed the idea after I told him about the sword dance. He uses it to train our cavalry. It looks very impressive.”
“I'd like to see it. It was always difficult training our Vorthenki when we were fighting Thealum.”
“We had to beat it into them most of the time,” said Vorish. “It was only by winning over powerful men like Darven and Angoth that we got anywhere at all.”
He paused and Menish could see he was weighing his options, as if coming to a difficult decision.
“I suppose it is futile to suggest deploying my heavy cavalry in our centre?”
“You know it is. Yes, I agree tactically it is the better choice. But my people would never accept it. This has to be Anthor's battle, even if it kills us all, and that means light cavalry in front.”
“Then Anthor needs to learn some exquisite timing in the next few days. My engineers tell me they can set the gourds to fire as the Gashan line crosses them, and a moment later, before the Gashans have recovered, Anthor must crash into them.”
“You can signal us with a trumpet?”
“Yes, but your folk, even those that know the call to charge, will not follow the Emperor's signal.”
“But I will. Don't concern yourself, Vorish. I can manage my people well enough. Tell Drinsagish he should go ahead with this display. We can use it to warm people up before I address them.”
Vorish hesitated again, as if we wanted to say something else. But all he said was:
“I'm sure he'll be pleased. And I'll want to see your reaction to this display. For now, you need to get that leg better.”
With that Vorish left and Menish wondered what he was planning. Vorish never did anything without a reason, usually more than one. Why was he trying to increase Drinagish’s prestige? Was it in case Menish died in the battle as his dream had predicted? Would Vorish be so cold hearted as to plan for such a thing? Of course he would.