Chapter 42 - Plenimar

FROM where she sat her horse in the front ranks that morning, Beka could see Klia just down the line, conferring with the queen and the other officers of her army. Phoria’s gold-chased breastplate and helm glinted in the light, and her tabard was the color of flame. Between that and the great white Skalan stallion she rode, you didn’t need the royal standard to find her in battle. Klia said something to her half sister and Phoria laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. Everyone was in good spirits today. Or almost everyone; down the line Beka could see Danos, grim and haggard as he sat his mount. In recent battles and skirmishes he’d been bold, but not foolish, yet it was clear the disgrace of his family and his severed relationship with Princess Elani weighed heavily on him.

The cold autumn wind off the Inner Sea made the myriad army standards snap on their poles, their varied colors bright against the blue Plenimaran sky. Black-headed gulls sailed overhead, mingling their shrill cries with the hiss of the wind through miles of long dry grass. Before Phoria’s massed army, the rolling hills of the Plenimaran frontier stretched into the distance, becoming foothills and then the jagged mountain ridges of the peninsula that connected Plenimar to the mainland. Between the Skalan army and the crucial pass there, what was left of the Overlord’s army stood in full array.

In less than three months since Klia’s troop had captured the vital ford, Phoria and her combined regiments and warships had made a concentrated push, decimating the Plenimarans, and driving them back to their own doorstep.

Looking south, Beka could make out Plenimaran warships far out at sea, trying to stop a flotilla of Skala’s navy from making landfall. From this distance they looked like toys in a great tub.

There was movement in the rank behind her. Nyal emerged from the press and reined in his bay beside hers. His dark hair flowed loose beneath his scarred helmet, and Aurënfaie chain mail glittered above the front of his corselet.

“It’s a good day to fight, and good ground,” he remarked.

“It is.”

Their eyes met briefly, conveying all that they could not say here.

“A damn good day!” Sergeant Rylin exclaimed just down the row.

Others started to cheer, but Beka held up her hand for silence.

The Overlord left his lines and rode forward with a phalanx of officers under a flag of parlay. Phoria’s standard-bearer raised another and the queen galloped out with Klia and her guard to speak with him.

“This is it!” someone said among the ranks. “He’s got to capitulate now! We’ve got ’em!”

An excited murmur spread out from there, but Beka kept her eye on the queen. Klia had spent hours with the other officers in Phoria’s tent last night, and come away tight-lipped and silent.