35. Ethan

Chapter 35

Ethan

S weaty, unbathed men.

Smoke from campfires.

The persistent note of horse dung.

The reek of death would be added to that stench soon enough.

My simple black cloak, its heavy furs draped across my shoulders, blew with the swirling wind as I walked among my troops. I needed no symbol of office or gold trim. I wore no helmet or officer’s cap. This was my army. They knew me well.

Now, they knew their General held no fear.

Or showed no fear, at least.

Men shot to their feet and offered crisp salutes as I passed. I tried to wave them to ease before the ritual could complete but failed most of the time. Our journey through the mountains, then from Grove’s Pass to Saltstone, was long, cold, and uneventful.

Despite the eternal march, morale was high.

Men joked and laughed as they sharpened sword and axe. They sang around campfires and told tales of their heroism to come. Their voices held no fear, though I knew that would change with the first volley.

I lost count of the number of times I heard a soldier declare that he would be the one to avenge the King or Prince. Isabel’s propaganda was now deeply rooted.

Above all, the men were excited to finally reach their destination, to finally see an end to their monotony.

But I knew better.

I stood at the edge of our encampment behind a solid wall of shields. I stared down at the bulky leather straps that would soon be used by men to push our line forward. The front of each shield was painted brightly, covered in images of flames. Isabel had added that touch while we were still in Grove’s Pass, thinking a wall of flame would send her message more clearly to the citizens of Saltstone.

The sharp ends of snow-covered pikes rose from the ground in salute to the approaching invaders. The land before and behind each ring was bumpy, somehow disturbed. The snow sat unevenly beneath the pickets. Trenches? Disguised by frozen water and snow?

“Is that . . . what is that glow?” I asked no one in particular as I shielded my eyes and squinted at the tips of the pikes. They shimmered—and I was certain the effect had nothing to do with the rising sun.

Is that magic?

I hated magic, knowing how much stronger Melucia’s Mages were than our own. Give me a powerful arm and well-made sword over mystical powers any day.

So much changed in the time it took us to get here.

My eyes rose to survey the wall ringing the capital. The sheer scale of the logs was astounding. Towers loomed where guards peered back across the field. My trebuchets had a lot of work ahead, but wooden walls wouldn’t keep my army at bay. I shook my head as my military mind thought of the foolishness of this great mercantile nation hiding behind toothpicks before their enemy’s indomitable force.

Why had their Mages not used stone?

Another trick? More Enchantments?

The thought made me shudder.

I turned back toward the camp.