'The armies have linked,' Cedric answered. 'Bandor and the others pursue us together.'
'But if you are so far north,' Duncan asked, 'what of the defense of Ambrosia?'
'There is no Ambrosia to defend,' Cedric said wearily. 'Procolon has fallen, my fair lady. Your forces and mine are all that remain.' He stopped and looked at the setting sun. 'They are at our heels and we no longer have the strength to run. Tomorrow there will be a final battle and it will be here.'
With a wave of his good arm, Cedric pointed back across the valley. As if on a paymaster's cue, a line of men appeared on the other crest, their energetic step in ominous unison. The vanguard halted on the ridgeline and spread out into the distance on either side. As Alodar and the others watched, more and more climbed to join them, filling in the gaps and piling up behind. In the quickening darkness, they merged into a solid wall, shoulder to shoulder and many rows deep.
In the very center of the line, huge stones were dropped from a wagon and shaped into a ring. A small fire sprang to life, and a dim, blue-green flame twinkled in the twilight. Drums began to sound, leading an unearthly chant. The warriors jabbed their swords into the sky. Mindlessly they gestured and roared, flaunting their freshness at the end of the day.
Alodar looked up and down the line as it stretched before him, uniformly thick and extending farther than he cared to imagine. He looked back over the royal forces and tried to visualize them strung out thinly to meet the next day's charge.
He and the others were silent with shock as they watched the scene fade into the night. The line of men dissolved into the darkness, but dancing lights marked where they stood. An occasional beat of luminescent wings fluttered in their midst, and soft but spine-tingling laughter wafted across the valley.
Alodar recalled his longing for battle before entering Bardina and felt it dash to splinters against the hard strength of what he had seen. He followed the flittering of imp glow and smiled ruefully at his hopes, of tipping the balance with the control of a single demon.
He shuddered as the final reality hit him. Tomorrow, outnumbered, by how many he could not tell, they must defeat those demon-driven, screaming hordes, or it would all be over. There would be no fair lady, no Procolon, no Ambrosia. All would be swept away and replace by horrors that even Handar had difficulty describing.
Vendora stood speechless, her face a tight mask and her fists clenched at her sides. Grak placed a hand on her shoulder. 'So this is the battle for which we will receive our great rewards,' he growled. 'It is more likely that our women will see few of us again.'
Vendora blinked and her eyes widened as she looked up at the nomad.
'No, I will not abandon you,' Grak promised. 'It is not for the pretty rocks or shields of shiny steel that I have pledged my sword to your aid. We will see tomorrow through, no matter what the consequences.'
'And after a meal for my weary men, we will plan,' Cedric said. 'They will attack at dawn and we must be deployed as best we can.'
Handar looked at Alodar in the darkness, his eyes glowing. He sighed. 'I wish that there had been more time. We might have had a better chance.'
Alodar raised his eyebrows as Aeriel approached and she laughed self-consciously. 'Vendora has decreed that our council tonight be held as a proper court,' she said 'So after a hurried meal I did what I could to clean my tunic and wash my hair.' She whirled for his inspection and patted a hand to her hip. 'Yes, even the magic dagger. Somehow Basil managed to carry two with him throughout the entire trek. He presented one to the queen, and she insisted that I display mine.'
Alodar nodded and accompanied her to the fire pit where the advisors were assembling. The moon was nearly gone, and the yellow flames silhouetted the closest figures in harsh shadows. He looked around the group and saw Cedric resting comfortably, the lines of pain in his face softened into creases of fatigue. The vat of sweetbalm Alodar had brewed with ingredients scavenged from the refugees was not the best; but there was enough so that each of the warmaster's men received some share. He saw Cedric nod his head slowly as he listened to Grak explaining the numbers and weapons of his men. While he talked the nomad pulled uncomfortably at a silken shirt embroidered with metallic threads that sparkled in the firelight. Clearly more than willowbark had been requisitioned from the fleeing subjects of the queen.
'The fair lady,' Grengor announced, rising to his feet and pointing to the periphery of illumination. Out of the shadows Vendora slowly approached, walking in synchronization to a silent promenade. She wore a gown of gold, and her hair was pushed high, held in place by jeweled combs. She smiled as she slowly sat in a chair roughly constructed from a wagon's planking. She motioned the assemblage to rest as well.
'The hours till dawn are few enough,' Feston muttered. 'I hope, my fair lady, that you do not intend to start with the ritual proclamations.'
'I am still the queen of Procolon, if only for one more night,' Vendora said. 'All shall be conducted with the proper decorum.'
Feston frowned but said no more. For a moment a heavy silence hung on them all. 'There is very little to discuss,' Cedric said at last. 'We are too few to have many options. My men with mail will take the center and Grak and his nomads will form on either side. The horses we have must guard both flanks and try to prevent an envelopment.'
'And while you hold them at bay, there may be time to slip away,' Basil suggested. 'We should be able to bribe enough silence for a safe hiding place.'
'With my sphere, the number accompanying need not be large,' Duncan added. 'Consider carefully, my fair lady, the choices you have left.'
'We are pledged to fight for this woman, one and all,' Grak growled. 'To slink away is to cast aside one's honor.'
'Do not be swayed, my fair lady, by the folly of the sagas,' Basil said. 'The fate of most of those assembled here may be determined, it is true. But for one with personal resources, the result need not be so clear.'
'The sphere wards off demons as well as mortal blows,' Duncan reminded the queen.
'Duncan, you are not the only suitor to whom I can turn for aid,' Vendora said. 'In fact I have decided today to increase my options further.' She stopped and swept her arm across the circle. 'Stand up, Grak, and receive the congratulations of your peers.'
The nomad rose stiffly and placed his hands behind his hack, glowering at the looks cast his way.
'For what deed this time?' Aeriel asked. 'Are not four suitors enough to play one against the other?'
'I could justify it as a reward for assembling my barbarian army,' Vendora replied.
'But that is favoritism even more blatant than at Iron Fist,' Aeriel said. 'It is not because of his aid alone that we have gathered as many as we have.'
'I could say for assembling my army,' Vendora repeated, 'but I will not. It is because I want it so, and that is reason enough.'
A rash of whispers shot around the circle but Vendora ignored them and continued. 'You cannot fault the role of queen that I have played. My father taught me in fine detail how to balance the competing factions and to win independent power to my cause. But I am a woman as well as a queen. Not all of my choices will be made because they suit the purposes of the state.'
'But your beauty is renowned throughout the kingdom, my fair lady,' Duncan protested. 'We suitors pursue you as well as the dignity of the crown.'
'Oh I know you would eye me even if I were a wench in a tavern.' Vendora smiled. 'But without the glitter of the throne, how many gems or magic spheres would you offer my way? Grak pledged to Vendora the woman, and for that he would have the same reward if he alone came to my banner. After tomorrow it may no longer matter; you will not suffer for the one night he is your equal.'
'Our fate cannot be as certain as all that,' Aeriel cried. 'Surely fight or flight are not all that we can consider. Handar, I do not believe you slept only to warn us of what we would finally discover of our own accord. What else can we do besides stand firm and wave our swords until we are swept away?'
'Yes, there is another hope,' Handar said as he rose slowly and stepped to the center of the circle near the fire. 'Another chance, less direct but one that we must take as well.'
He looked around the group and saw everyone waiting for him to continue. 'Years ago when it was decided that one day what we see about us indeed could come to pass, the great wizards planned what must be our defense. Our hope would not lie in struggling with the mischievous imps, the devils of power, or even the great demons. No, we must strike instead at the capstone. We must subjugate the very prince who plots against us and
