followed his lead, with Kine laying his over Mince.
“Can we eat now?” Brand asked.
Renwick had established a firm rule that they ration their food and they all ate together to make certain no one had more than his share. Like the cups of water, they kept their meals inside their shirts, up against their skin, since it was the only way to keep the food from freezing solid.
“I suppose,” Renwick said passively, but looked just as hungry as any of them.
Brand pulled out his stick of salt pork and set it near the fire. “I’m having a hot meal tonight.”
The rest of them mimicked him, and before long, the smell of hot meat filled the cave. They all waited to see how long Brand could hold out. It was not long and soon everyone was ripping into the pork and making exaggerated smacks of ecstasy.
In the midst of their revelry, Mince sat up.
“Supper?”
“You’re alive!” Kine exclaimed.
“You’re not eating my share, are you?”
“We should!” Elbright yelled at him. “You little idiot. Why did you decide to take a nap on the ice?”
“I fell asleep?” Mince asked, surprised.
“You don’t remember?” Kine asked. “We found you curled up on the river, snoring.”
“You should thank Maribor for your life,” Elbright added. “And what were you doing so far north?”
“I was watching the elves.”
“Elves?” Renwick asked. “What elves?”
“I saw the elven army crossing the river, a whole line of them.”
“There were no elves,” Elbright declared. “You dreamed it.”
“No, I saw them on horseback, and they played this beautiful music. I started listening and-”
“And what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you fell asleep is what,” Elbright told him. “And if I hadn’t heard you snoring, you’d be dead by now.”
“He would, wouldn’t he?” Renwick muttered, looking out at the dark. “The elves-you said they were all on horseback? None on foot? How about wagons?”
“No, no wagons, just elves on horses, beautiful horses.”
“What is it?” Elbright asked.
“He didn’t see the elven army.”
“I know that,” Elbright replied with a chuckle. “It was a dream.”
“No-no, it wasn’t,” Renwick corrected. “He saw elves, but it wasn’t the army. It was only the vanguard-the advance patrol. I heard the knights talking-the elven army travels at night, but hardly anyone has ever seen them and no one knows why, but I think I do-I do now.”
They all looked at Mince.
“He’d be dead,” Elbright said, nodding. “But that means the army is-It’s night!”
They all looked at the fire, which had melted down a half foot into the snow so that it burned in its own little well. Elbright was the one who kicked it out. It made a dying hiss as the snow swallowed the flames. They all worked to bury the embers until it was a small mound of dirty brown with sticks and grass sticking out.
No one said a word as they felt around in the faint light for their cloaks and mittens. Silence hung in the air. Since it was winter, they did not expect the sounds of birds or frogs, but now not even the wind breathed. The constant rustle of naked branches was absent, as were the random cracks and snaps.
They poked their heads out of the cave, lifting them attentively above the blind and around the bundle of pine boughs. They could not see anything.
“They’re out there,” Renwick whispered. “They are crossing the frozen river and sneaking up on Aquesta from the south. We have to warn them.”
“You want us to go out there?” Elbright asked incredulously. “Where they are?”
“We have to try.”
“I thought we had to stay here and watch the horses.”
“We do, but we also have to warn the city. I’ll go. The rest of you stay here. Elbright, you’ll be in charge. You can explain to Hadrian why I left.” As he spoke, he moved to the gear and began picking supplies. “Keep the fire out. Stay inside and…” He paused a moment, then said, “Cover your ears if you hear any music.”
No one said a word as he slipped out. They all watched as he inched nervously to the horses. He picked the one closest to the middle of the bunch and saddled it. When he was gone, all that remained was the deep silence of a cold winter’s night.
CHAPTER 17
The party had stopped again. Since they’d left the library, their progress through the ancient city had been tedious, as Royce was pausing frequently. Sometimes he forced them to wait for what felt like hours as he scouted ahead-the rest of them sitting among the rubble. This time, he had left them in the middle of what appeared to be an alley with tall buildings towering on either side. Arista sighed and leaned against one wall. Someone ahead of her had stepped on a piece of fabric, the boot print revealing the faded colors of blue and green. She bent down and picked a small flag from under a thick coating of dust and dirt. This one was a handheld version, the sort people waved at celebrations. Looking up, she spotted a window, and hanging from that was an old and
faded banner that read FESTIVIOUS FOUNDEREIONUS!
“What does that say?” she asked Myron, but she was certain she already knew.
“ ‘Happy Founder’s Day,’ ” the monk replied.
Next to where she found the flag, she noticed a small object. Reaching out, she found a copper pin in the shape of the letter P. Now more than ever she wished she could remember the dream from the night before, but the more she tried to recall, the more it slipped away.
Royce returned, waving them forward, and then he led them in a circle back to the boulevard. Here they began to see skeletons. They were in groups of twos and threes, lying crumpled to the ground as if they had died right where they stood. The only way to tell how many there were was by the number of skulls in the piles. As they progressed, the bone count increased. Skeletons lined either side of the road with skull counts of ten deep.
They entered a small square, a portion of which was flooded where the ground was cracked and sank away at a dramatic angle. The same green light that illuminated the sea lit the square and revealed a raised platform on which was a great statue of a man. He stood twenty feet tall, with a strong, youthful physique. A sword was in his right hand and a staff in the other. Arista had seen similar statues several times throughout the city and in each case the head was missing, broken at the neck and shattered.
Royce stopped again.
“Any idea if we are getting close to the palace?” he asked, looking at Myron.
“I only know that it is near the center,” the monk replied.
“The palace is at the end of the Grand Mar,” Arista told them. “That’s what they used to call the boulevard we’re on now. So it is just up ahead.”
“The Grand Mar?” Myron said, more to himself than to her, and then nodded. “The Marchway.”
“What are you babbling about?” Alric asked.
“There was said to be a great avenue in Percepliquis called the Grand Imperial Marchway, so called as it was often the site of parades. Ancient descriptions declared it to have been wide enough for twelve soldiers to walk abreast and that it was made up of two lanes divided by a row of trees. Imperial troops would march down the right side to the palace, where the emperor would review them from his balcony, and then they would return down the other side.”
“They were fruit trees,” Arista said. “The trees that grew in the center of the Grand Mar-fruit trees that
