The Maelstrom

faded.

“We should ride back,” she reflected. “Your soldiers will want to see their commander.”

Max nodded and the two left the wall, descending the ramps to the rutted road that led back to Trench Nineteen. As Max settled into YaYa’s gait, he gazed across a vast landscape of shadowy blues and grays, a backdrop of dark farmland and sparse forests in which thousands of torches were flickering as battalions and companies took up position along the trenches. The citadel walls and fortifications protecting Old College loomed behind them, white and gleaming beneath the moon. They reminded Max of castles he’d seen in the Sidh.

Most of the Trench Rats had assembled by the time they’d returned. They stood at attention, some unsteadily from interrupted celebrations, but the majority appeared clear-eyed and anxious. Max found his friends among them. While Lucia and Cynthia were wearing Mystics robes, Sarah was dressed for combat. Like the other company commanders, she rode a charger and was armored in gleaming half-plate with the Rowan crest chased in silver upon the cuirass. She carried the naginata she favored, along with the battalion’s horn that would signal an advance, cease-fire, or retreat back to the Northgate. Standing behind Cynthia was Bob, cradling his great helm and leaning upon his cudgel. Calling out to the lieutenants, Max had them bring the troops closer so that they could hear him as he shouted over the wind.

“The Enemy is marching upon us,” he announced. “Umbra and I have seen them from the outer curtain. In a few hours they’ll reach those walls. We’re going to take up our positions now and settle in. We might be here for days.”

He scanned the faces, many still dirty and dusty from their review. They were trying to pay attention, but many could not keep from gaping about as signal flares screamed overhead like shooting stars. Drills and training were well and good, but they were still a far cry from taking a real field against a real opponent. Max’s gaze fell upon one face in the crowd, a young pikeman named Joshua. The boy was shivering, standing on tiptoe to follow a troop of centaurs as they galloped toward the outer wall.

“I know you’re frightened,” said Max, his eyes moving from Joshua to the multitudes surrounding him. “Every good soldier is frightened before a battle. Those who deny it are liars or fools. Even Bob is afraid.”

Necks craned to glimpse the ogre, who smiled and nodded.

“Don’t fight your fear—embrace it,” Max urged them. “Let it sharpen you and give you strength. Most of you have never fought in a battle like this. But when the call was sounded, you answered. You have the courage and will to overcome your fear and do what’s required. There isn’t a person here who hasn’t cheated Death to make it to Rowan.”

Max paused as grim nods passed among the many refugees.

“You’re survivors. In the past, many of you had to do it alone. But you are not alone anymore. I am with you. Everyone you see, everyone in this battalion, from Ajax to Umbra, is with you. War is big. Make it small. It’s not your job to defeat Prusias. Let others worry about that. Your only job is to defend those on either side of you. You do that and they cannot break us. Nothing passes Trench Nineteen!”

A wild cheer went up from the battalion. Some embraced while others shouted angry oaths at Prusias or demons or whatever else they fancied. Those who were closest to YaYa touched the ki-rin’s broken horn for luck. At Sarah’s signal, the troops spread out along the trench, marching behind their lieutenants and company commanders until they reached the fluttering pennants that marked their assignments. Behind them, ballistae were being wheeled into place, healing tents had been pitched, cooking fires were lit, and soldiers were filling their canteens from the water barrels.

Max heard a harrumph from below and gazed down to see Tweedy looking up at him.

“All the arrangements have been made,” he reported. “There’s more water on its way, Chloe recruited another moomenhoven to tend the wounded, and Jack’s fellows are seeing to the cooking fires. Where should I take up position?”

“Tweedy, we talked about this,” said Max. “You don’t have to stay out here. Once everything’s situated, you can go back inside the citadel. It will be safer there.”

“And I told you, Max McDaniels, that I’m a member of this battalion and won’t be sent off for milk and cookies like a puling wee one. So where shall I go?”

“By Bob,” Max sighed, figuring that if anyone could keep the hare safe, it would be the battalion’s ogre and his iron-banded cudgel. “But don’t talk his ear off, Tweedy. Bob gets quiet at times like this. Leave him be.”

Turning to Cynthia and Lucia, Max sent them off to their posts—Lucia to support the right flank nearest the cliffs while Cynthia held the middle. It was an emotional moment. Even Lucia had tears, embracing Cynthia like a sister before hurrying off toward the cliffs and the roar of the churning surf below. Only Scathach remained, sitting easily on the Appaloosa with her spear laid across the saddle.

“Your father would be proud,” she said, her eyes glittering.

“Which one?”

“You know the one I mean,” she replied. “Command comes naturally to you.”

“Where will you take up position?” asked Max. He’d given Scathach the freedom to go wherever she thought she was needed.

“For now, I’ll stay by you,” she replied. “The Atropos care nothing for this war; their only concern is you. That assassin is still lurking.”

Max held up his hand so she could see the silver shining on his finger. “I’ll know if he’s close.”

“If Prusias storms the outer walls, these lands will be riddled with demonkind,” she replied. “That ring will scald whether he’s close or not. You must not trust it.”

“Then I’ll have to trust you,” said Max, smiling.

“As you should.”

Even as she spoke, her features shifted and Umbra’s guise fell away to reveal the proud, beautiful face of the warrior maiden. Her expression was solemn as she took his hand. “No one knows what battle may bring,” she said, gazing at his brooch and then at him. “Not even Lugh or the Morrigan or any of the Tuatha De Danaan can say where the spears and arrows may fall. In this hour, I would have you see me as I am.”

From the north, a thunderclap sounded, a shuddering peal that shook the ground and rolled across the open country like a shock wave. The blare of horns carried to them on the wind, thousands of horns blown in unison. Beyond the outer wall, the dark sky was taking on an orange-red cast.

Boom boom boom

Even at such a distance, the drums drowned out the sound of wind and horses and soldiers settling into position. At the outer walls, Rowan’s horns answered in a blaring call as hundreds of catapults were loosed. The shots rose like meteors, tracing fiery arcs high into the night sky until they disappeared from sight.

The battle had begun.

An hour passed. Then two. Max found their position maddening. He could make out very little of what was happening at the front. The walls were now obscured by a haze of ashy smoke that settled over the land like a pall. Intermittent bursts of light crackled across the sky, illuminating the farms and forests like a flashbulb before the land settled back into shadow. Now and again, the earth shook or there was a cheer as horns rose above the din.

Max was trembling as he walked YaYa back and forth along Trench Nineteen, gazing out at the wall. Already, the Old Magic was stirring within him, its awakening as steady and ominous as the terrible drums from beyond the wall. Even sheathed, the gae bolga knew that blood was being spilled. The spear hummed, its shaft glowing a dull red as though it had been pulled from a bed of hot coals.

“I should be out there,” he muttered, shifting anxiously in his saddle.

“Your place is with your soldiers,” Scathach reminded Max, calming her horse as it snorted and shied away from him.

Scathach’s horse was not the only one that sensed a change coming over Max. As the pair rode past the platoons and companies, many of the troops ceased their hushed conversations to watch them. Some were obviously curious about Scathach and the fact that an apparent newcomer was wearing Umbra’s armor and carrying her fearsome spear. But most gazed uneasily at Max as though he were the stranger in their midst. When they passed by Tam, the girl who could perceive auras, she abruptly hushed her friend Jack and stood at attention.

“What’s the matter, soldier?” asked Scathach.

“His shine, lady,” said Tam, staring at Max. “It’s changing!”

Max said nothing but looked at Jack, who had apparently been crying. There was vomit by his boots. Glancing