The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [131]
Dinner that night was a meager affair. They still had a considerable amount of food, as they continued to make impossibly good time on their march north, but their supplies would have to last them a long while yet, as they would not be stopping in Barrsunder to purchase more.
The course Aldeth had plotted for them would take them no closer than thirty leagues to the Embarran capital, but even that was cause for concern. The last time Grace was in Embarr, the Raven Cult had held sway, and there were the Onyx Knights to contend with as well. If they went to Barrsunder, there was no telling whom they would find in power. As for the rest of the Dominion, it seemed deserted.
“Does anyone live in this place?” Aldeth said that night as they ate hardtack and cheese, huddled close to one of the stones over which Master Graedin had spoken Krond. “While Sam and I were out scouting, we came to two keeps, both of which were empty. And Leris and Karthi found an abandoned manor where the cattle had all died of starvation.”
Samatha reached her hands toward the hot boulder. “It's as if all the people who lived here have vanished.”
“They've gone to Barrsunder,” Grace said. “King Sorrin is mad, and he's summoned all of his knights to protect him from death. I think the Onyx Knights may be controlling him, using his position to weaken the Dominion.”
Commander Paladus glanced at her. “That explains what happened to his knights. But what about the rest of the people—the folk who work the land? Where have they gone?”
“North,” Durge said in his deep voice. “The Raven Cultists are on a pilgrimage north. Like all the slaves of the Pale King, they must answer his call.”
Grace stared at the knight. His eyes were unreadable in the dark, and his right hand was tucked inside his cloak.
“The stone,” Tarus said softly. “It's getting cold again. We should find Master Graedin or Master Oragien to—”
Tira broke away from Grace's arms. She pressed her hands against the small boulder and laughed. A moment later they all felt it: waves of heat radiating outward.
The others gaped at the girl, and—shy now—she ran back to Grace, burying her head in Grace's skirt.
“Thank you,” Grace said, cradling Tira in her arms.
“Krond,” the girl murmured, and shut her eyes.
They began their march again with the dawn. The air was bitter, and the day was bright and clear, without a trace of a cloud. Once Aldeth reported seeing a dark smudge off to the west, but it was gone before the rest of them caught a glimpse of it. At least the wind had blown itself out, and the air was still, which was a blessing.
Or, so Grace thought. For if the easterly wind had still blown, there was a chance the Spiders might have heard the sound of their approach. There might have been time for the witches to weave an illusion, or for the runespeakers to work magics of protection. However, the wind had chosen that day to betray them, and so it was they did not see the company of a hundred knights until they crested a low rise and glimpsed the men below, thundering across the moor on sooty horses.
“Back!” Aldeth hissed. “We must get back before they see us!”
It was already too late. The company of knights veered to the right, pounding up the slope toward them. Grace and Aldeth had ridden a little ahead of the main force, along with Durge, Tarus, Master Graedin, and the young witch Lursa. The rest of the army was two furlongs behind.
Samatha stepped out of thin air, pushing her mistcloak over her shoulders. “I take it you've seen them.”
“Are there any more?” Aldeth said.
The Spider put her hands on her hips. “Isn't fivescore enough? But no, I think this troop of knights is alone.”
“What do they want?” Master Graedin said, a nervous hand at his throat.
“It looks like we'll find out soon enough,” Tarus said. “We can't possibly outrun them. They're