Pieces on the Board

Updated July 2018

Stinking of decay, taller than even a man on horseback, the monstrosity of dead flesh and soul steel bore down on Bergen, its metal studded fists rocketing towards the god blooded commander. So far he had managed to turn the killing blows, but he was slowing, below him, River was slowing. There was a terrible certainty to the strike that finally broke through his guard and sent him flying from his saddle.

River reared up, putting himself between his fallen rider and the dead monster, but the monstrosity knocked the horse aside and closed on Bergen.

As it lifted its hand, there was a flash of white, and suddenly Sparrow, astride a tall mare, was between him and the dead thing.

Bergen watched as the enormous hand slammed down into Sparrow's face, knew with certainty that it hit. He also knew that he saw golden light dance about her for a moment. Unmoved by the blow which would have smashed a fortress door, she countered, her red jade daiklaive lashing out in a precise arc that took the monster's head from its shoulders.

She continued the attack, several more cuts, one taking its arm off, another biting deep into its hip, slicing away tendon.

The dead thing fell over, unmoving.

Sparrow brought her mare around, still not entirely at ease upon horseback. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Bergen nodded.

Sparrow leaned over far, gripping the saddlehorn tightly with one hand, offering him her other hand.

Bergen took it. He noticed how Sparrow frowned as if she saw something distasteful. However, as she realised his hand once he was on his feet, she smiled.

She was breathing heavily, and there was sweat on her forehead.

"You're holding back, working harder because of it," he said, and then walked to where River stood, looking his mount over, making sure he was not hurt.

"They're not ready to see that," Sparrow told him.

"If you're dead before that time comes it will not be of much help to them."

"That might be true." She shrugged her shoulders. "Are you and River ready to fight?"

Bergen nodded as he mounted up. "I'm ready." He looked about, seeing that the dead were falling back. "We're going to destroy them?"

Sparrow nodded and brought her horn to her lips, playing the signal for regroup and attack.

Bergen looked at her for a long moment, then set River forward at a gallop.

He would follow Sparrow, no matter what various religious doctrine might say about her.

Heat from the flames made Chala draw back, but she remained as close as she could, watching as the dead burnt. Not far off Heron stood beside Dragon, smoke still rising from his flame weapons. She might not have believed before how fast the dead might fall, but Heron was like a flaming scythe. She crossed the charred ground to stand at his side. "Thank you."

He looked at her, smiled.

Chala felt her heart speed up and chided herself for acting like a love-besotted school girl.

"We're driving them back," she said.

"It will get harder," Heron told her.

And it was not hard already, she wondered, but only nodded, because she knew the truth of his words. There had been, as far as she could tell, no Death Knights in many of the battles they had fought. When they came, could they continue to win?

Bergen believed that they could, seeming to have no doubt in Sparrow and Heron. Chala thought that he knew something that he was not saying.

"More riders come every day," she said, it made her feel better to say it. "The Mayhiros and Lookshy still think the real attack will come up the coast and hit Celeren, but not everyone is willing to accept that."

Heron nodded and then began to pack his flame weapons away into their sheaths on Dragon's saddle. "We'll need them. We'll need all the help we can get." He looked up at the setting sun. "New moon tonight," he said thoughtfully.

"Are you worried that the dead will make an attack under darkness?" Chala asked.

He looked at her, appearing momentarily confused, but then he smiled. "Perhaps. Still, even we can benefit from the darkness."

Chala wondered what he meant.

"We've found nothing," Lightning told him.

She sat in a small, forgotten hollow in thick woods, some days ride from both the Marukan Alliance and Thorns.

The Blade was not far off, the rays of the setting sun gleaming off its hull.

"We've covered Thorns about as well as we can," Lightning continued.

"So what now?" Heron asked.

"We're going to the Mask of Winter's citadel," she told him.

Heron nodded. "I suppose it was bound to come down to that."

"We'll be okay," Ivory said from where she and Hu sat.

"Doesn't seem likely."

"Actually, it's probably going to be easy to get in there," Lightning told him.

"And getting out?" Heron asked.

"No plan is perfect. How is Sparrow doing?"

"Stretched tight, but, I think she'll be okay."

"And the Marukan?"

"Some of them know the truth or suspect. Some are desperate."

Lightning nodded. "But hopeful I suppose. Allies?"

"When this is all over, assuming we are still standing? That's going to be the question isn't it?"

"They'll like us," Ivory said as she stood up, letting her cloak slip from her shoulders.

She walked away from them, to a patch of bare ground, and then with the heel of her shoe, began gouging the soft dirt.

"She's hopeful," Lightning said.

Heron nodded. "When will the Mask of Winters send real threats against us?"

"Soon. They are probably already on their way. Not as many as there should be."

"He's split his forces."

Lightning nodded. "His reach might exceed his grasp."

"We can hope."

"We can make it so."

"We'll certainly try." He looked towards where Ivory worked and then back to Lightning. "Sparrow wants to know more about the Spire."

"I don't think I can tell her more than she already knows. First age fortress, high walls. The Marukan fighting style does not work well with sitting behind walls and trying to wait an enemy out. Lookshy and the Marukan have put a small force in it, enough to keep it locked up against an enemy that might want to take it."

"Anything else?"

Lightning shook her head. "Never really gave it much thought. You think that Sparrow can make use of it?"

"She's good. Getting better. If there is a way to make use of a fortress and cavalry, she'll find it."

Lightning looked towards where Ivory worked. "Have you ever seen her do this before?"

"No, but I trust her. Sorcery is her area of expertise."

In Thorns, on the edge of the city, Courtesan stalked, unseen, unheard. She was in the camp of the enemy. But then again so was the girl she hunted, though at the moment that strong sense had faded.

That meant the girl was not here, but the Whispers were quiet, so she had to be coming back.

Courtesan hoped.

An old house still stood in a ruined neighbourhood. She entered through an unbarred window just below the roof. Once it had been a grand house, she supposed, and even empty, with dust coating everything, it still spoke of that grandeur.

She wandered through it, bow held ready, until she found the current resident. A house like that did not remain abandoned without reason.

The ghost was old, and almost certainly mad, but no less potent for that.

It looked up with Courtesan entered. "I know you," it said, raising a black, skeletal arm to point at her.

She drew back and arrow and sent it flying into the ghost's chest. On her brow, the skin darkened with a faint bruise.

The Nephwrak stumbled back, the arrow deep in its chest, twisting like a spiteful thing.

"But our masters..." the ghost said.

He was silenced by Courtesan's next arrow which took him through the throat and went still as the third arrow took him through the head.

"Perhaps they think you are too mad to be of use," Courtesan said, lowering her bow, blinking the blood from her eyes.

She wiped her hand across her forehead, leaving a smear of blood on the stained and tattered sleeve of her blouse and the back of her hand. The house, for a time, would serve as a place of rest.

Dreaming Blue sat near the border of the of the lands that Thorns claimed, though she suspected that that border had expanded out in the last few days.

She had her daiklaive laid across her knees; spread out before her was star chart, an ancient one, etched on a flexible crystal sheet, a relic from the fallen City of Rathess. Tracing her finger across the surface, she watched as points of the represented sky lit up.

"Curious," she said.

She turned the crystal sheet and moved her finger across it again. "The Mask is still broken, but the Soldier stands in the house of the Sun," she said softly.

A sound made her look up. Some distance off she saw a horde of dead shuffling towards her, led by a small, mounted contingent.
Carefully she rolled the crystal up. She had a new destination, but first, she tucked the star chart away and stood, her daiklaive ready. She was going to put down some dead.

Many people were crowded into the tent, around the terrain table. The table was a square the size of a tall man on each side. It was a shallow box, its top a sheet of adamant. Within was a fine mixture of sand and powdered jade, mostly white. The mixture flowed and changed, creating a scale map of the area around it for almost three hundred miles in each direction.

Denva Jaabra was an older man, the leader of the Storming Ninety. He had five hammer scales: heavily armed cavalry that favoured maces and lances. Deva reached forward and tapped the adamant. The surface below rippled and shifted slightly, like water. "I believe that this is our enemy."

The map showed an area of instability as if the artefact did not know what was there. Denva thought it was the marching of a large number of troops. "Coming at us from Thorns, almost straight South to North."

The others in the room nodded or otherwise indicated agreement.

Chala led with a twist of her hip, forcing in close to the table. She had been in the fight the longest, and as a result, the others deferred to her, to a point. She wiped her hand across the surface of the adamant, causing the powder below to go perfectly flat a moment before it reformed as a very detailed topographic map of the area within ten miles of where they stood.

"I believe that they are bringing an advanced force up the river here," she told them, indicating the scale representation with her finger. "The river has cut deep, not an easy place to get horses, and the dead can walk along the river bed, so there would be no rafts or boats to see."

"It would be a dramatic and bold move," Renge Nine-Fingers said, "but that does not make it true."

Chala nodded. "It does not make it true."

Everyone in the room who could looked at the map, where Chala had indicated. All of them seemed to be considering what would happen to their lines were what Chala suggested true.

"We will assume that the dead march up the river and that they will make their first attack within the day. A bold move that will put their forces in position too advantageous to them for us to ignore."

The all looked towards Sparrow, who stood at the head of the map table, looking down.

She swept her hand across the adamant, the powder below leaping obediently to do her bidding, taking on detail that it had only hinted at before. None of the people in the room were surprised, for Sparrow had shown herself greatly skilled in warfare.

"They will come out of the river here," she said, indicating a place where the river widened out, the sharp walls that had bracketed the river falling away, forming a large, shallow bowl. "It's a plain of mud, not at all good for the horses."

"We can hit them when they move onto firmer ground," a young commander suggested from near the front of the tent.

Sparrow said nothing, tapping the adamant. All around the bowl what looked like fortifications came up. "The could easily put up defences while we wait, and we would have to split to both sides of the river. Also, they would have spread out by the time we could hit them, requiring the necessary force to be larger still. Waiting for them plays into their hands."

"What is your plan?" Nine-Fingers asked.

Sparrow tapped the adamant again, the surface below shifting and reforming.

"The Spire," Nine-Fingers said.

"They could just march around it," Denva said, but his tone suggested he did not think it would happen.

"They could," Sparrow nodded, "but they can't afford to. The dead may not need the same supply lines as the living, but they need supply lines none the less. A force left behind their advance is a threat. Lookshy could also bring in reinforcements by air. They won't pass us by."

"We lose the advantage of the horses," Nim Preece told her. He was young, but commanded almost sixty fast skirmishers, armed with firewands and longbows; his words carried weight.

"I have no plan to have the riders of Marukan hide behind the Spire's walls. The Spire is too large to easily surround, and there are many gates. We will strike the enemy, constant attacks spearing out from the safety of the Spire," she placed her hand on the adamant above the representation, "and then falling back, drawing them in so the weapons on the wall can be brought into play."

Nim nodded after a second. "I see. Yes."

"The enemy will suspect that we will move towards the Spire, but the longer we can keep them guessing, the more time we will have. We can keep them uncertain, their forces unconsolidated, until we are ready for them."

Again nods from those around the table.

"We'll be making battlefield feints, I'll want our forces to ride out in the next few hours," Sparrow said. She looked towards Chala and to Bergen who stood at her side. "We will take the largest force towards the enemy. Nine-Fingers, I want you to head to the bowl. Take Nin with you, make them believe you want to stop them from taking the shore."

"Understood," Nine-Fingers said. "I'll make them hurt. And if we can, in fact, stop them, all the better."

"Good," Sparrow said and smiled. "We'll break their advance, hold them and then crush them. They don't think we can. They are wrong."

Sparrow let no doubt enter her voice. She had used the same tone when ordering her ship into a gale, not allowing her crew ever doubt her for even a moment. This was the same. She did not want them to think it would be easy, but she needed them to believe they could win.

"Denva. Take your men to the Spire, make sure it is secure. I fear treachery more than zombies at this moment."

"Yes General," he said.

"Let's get to work," Sparrow told them.

Near the edge of the tent, a mouse went unnoticed as it squeezed out from under the fabric into the night. Mouse dashed through the camp, then scurried up a tent rope. The mouse's form flowed like water, and suddenly a bat spread its wings and took flight, silently climbing into the night sky.

After darting away from the camp the bat gained altitude, and then its form shifted again, and where the bat had flown now flew an owl, silent and fast, faster than any owl should be.

It crossed the night sky, silent and unremarked, and not long afterwards was spiralling down towards the vast structure of the Spire; a fortress of high walls, and weapon emplacements.

Owl landed upon the highest tower, shifted and grew until Redigost stood there, in his Moonsilver plate. He looked down from the tower, his upper lip pulled into a sneer.

It was still a few hours before dawn when Heron rode into the camp. All around him riders were preparing to move out, most of the camp had been taken down, lightweight tents and packs tied to the backs of horses. For those things that were too large to be taken on horseback, there were sturdy wagons, pulled by high spirited drays that were one of the most under-appreciated military strengths that the Marukan possessed.

He spotted Sparrow, speaking to a group of high ranking riders. He was about to ride over to them when a young rider, a lean-limbed wood aspect named Razor-Willow, rode up to him, cutting him off. "Heron," he said, "there is an issue, visitors."

Heron nodded after a moment. "Who is bringing them in?"

"Lann."

"Good man?"

"He respects your horse."

Heron smiled and laughed softly.

"They've got an airship, following Lann's forces."

Heron looked towards Sparrow. "I think we could use an airship. How does he plan to ground them?"

"He's bouncing them, thinks he can set them up in Black Stone."

"Is he ready for us?"

"He knows what to expect."

Heron nodded and looked back towards where Sparrow worked. "How long to get there?"

"Two hours."

"Alright, let's go." He flicked the reins to set Dragon into a walk.

"Not going to tell the General?" Razor-Willow asked.

"Not her worry."

Razor-Willow nodded.

Earlier that evening, as the sun had been going down, the Heart Spear had put down in the clearing that Lann had told them they would make the first camp at. Instead, they had only found two riders, working a small camp forge, working on shoeing a small group of horses. 'Always have some farrier work to do,' one had explained.

Apparently, things had changed, and Lann had gone on, riding in the dark. 'Look for a tall hill, south of here, maybe ten miles. There will be a green flare,' they had been told.

They had flown in the dark, to the complaints of Tolsay. Cloud Hands had supposed he was just complaining for the sake of complaining, for the darkness did not seem to have a negative impact on his flying.

No sign of the green flare, Tolsay had had to fly in large circles, crossing back and forth, until finally, he had caught sight of the small, green glow. 'Piss poor light,' he had sworn.

Landing, they had found that once more Lann had gone forward, moving quickly. 'Look for a shallow valley,' they had been told, 'that's where he will be.'

It was dark, there was no moon that night, so all they had was the light of the stars, and trust in Tolsay's flying.

"This has got to be a trap, ya."

Cloud hands looked up and out the cabin windows. Below she could see the flickering lights of fires, a dark slash across the landscape suggesting the shallow valley.

"Settin' up in a valley, 'nless you control the ridge, bad call, ya."

"We knew that we might be going into a trap," she said, wishing she did not feel so tired. "What other options do we have?" She wished she did not have to ask that question. She wanted to tell Tolsay to fly them back to Greyfalls, or better yet the short journey across the sea to the Realm where she might gather an impressive Wyld Hunt. She could not face the thought of delay, she had to go forward.

Tolsay must have sensed that desperation for all he said was, "Put down and dust off, ya? Keep the Spear in the sky, keep the high ground."

"A good plan. Grace, Anzar, you're with me. Tolsay, Kiyoshi, stay on the ship."

"Three of you enough?"

"With you overhead, I can make it work," Cloud Hands said.

"Your game," the pilot answered as he took the Heart Spear down.

They gathered their arms, and when Tolsay brought them to a halt, the Heart Spear hovering a few feet off the ground, they disembarked, leaping from the ship. She noticed that the old Sijanese priestess had come with them, but she put it from her mind as unimportant.

"Signal me if you want me to land," Tolsay called from the cabin, and then Heart Spear climbed rapidly, returning to the sky.

"Let's go, and keep your heads about you," Cloud Hands told Anzar and Grace. "We don't know what to expect."

They walked along the valley floor, passing small fires at which a few riders rested. Close by their was a picket line with the horses tied to it.

"Not enough men or horses," Anzar said.

Cloud Hands nodded.

They were about halfway along the valley's length when Lann appeared from the darkness. "Abbess Cloud Hands, I am glad you made it. I apologise for making you come farther than expected."

"Such uncertainties are to be expected in times of war," she answered. He did not ask about the Heart Spear, and she wondered about that.

"There is someone who wishes to speak with you. He has news that might be of use."

"About the Anathema?" she asked, feeling her heart speed up in her chest. Could this person have the information that she sought?

"I'll let him tell you," Lann said, turning and walking away.

Cloud Hands followed, moving quickly to catch up.

Ahead of them was a bonfire, at which sat a single person, wearing a cloak. Behind him stood a large, dark grey horse. Her step faltered, for she recognised the animal.

"I am not surprised by this meeting," Heron Jade eyes said as he pushed the hood of the cloak back from his head.

"You!" Grace snarled as she lifted her hammer and charged.

Before Cloud Hands could warn her to stop Lann kicked Grace's legs out from under her, dropping the woman hard to the ground.

"Please don't move," Lann said. "I would hate to have to kill you."

There were noises from around them, and Cloud Hands looked around, guessing that archers stood in the darkness, on the rim of the valley.

"I'll kill you all," Grace said, trying to get to her feet. Lann drove a foot down on the back of her neck, forcing her back to the ground.

"Be calm, both of you," Cloud Hands ordered, seeing Anzar ready himself to attack. "This is not the time to throw your lives away." She had brought them here, she had to do what she could to keep them alive.

Heron stood, letting the cloak fall from his shoulders. He wore a chain shirt of Orichalcum, a buff jacket over that. There was a subtle glow about him that made him stand out in the grey of the predawn. Those riders around them showed respect and deference to the beautiful man.

"What is it you want?" Cloud Hands demanded, keeping all uncertainty from her voice.

"Marukan is under threat from the dead," Heron told her, his voice, that she had last heard directed at her in anger, still held that compelling quality to it.

"He is Anathema," Cloud Hands said to the riders around her. "To even listen to his words puts your souls in danger you cannot imagine."

She had hoped for shock, at the very least, but all she saw was some minor discomfort among a few of the riders. Far too few.

"The Mask of Winters has pushed into Marukan territories," Heron continued as if she had said nothing. "We need allies. I ask that you signal your companions in the aircraft above to land before you force me to shoot them down."

Not sure if he was bluffing or not, she asked, "Do you have any of those green flares."

"Here," Lann said, tossing her a small cylinder. He stepped back from Grace.

Cloud Hands looked at the flare, then took a few steps away and lit it. She waved the flare back and forth, wondering if Tolsay would take the light as a signal for attack or landing?

The Heart Spear put down some distance away from them. From the ship, Tolsay and Kiyoshi came out.

Cloud Hands tossed the flare to the ground and wondered if the riders and the anathema might attack. She watched as his horse came closer to Heron, as Heron put his hand on the beast's neck. The horse, she thought, would be a telling benefit in the lands of the Alliance. The Marukan worshipped a horse god. It was why the Immaculate Doctrine spoke out against such worship. Give an Anathema a fine horse, and he could command the respect of such people.

"I take it this ain't good, ya?" Tolsay asked, coming to stand close to her.

"No, not really," she admitted.

"You come at a useful time, for your strength of arms will be of benefit to us," Heron told them.

"We would die before we would help you, murderer!" Grace yelled, and she made to start forward, but Kihoshi took her shoulder in his artificial hand, the metal fingers clamping down to hold her.

"And you would give the entire River Province to the dead?" Heron asked, his tone containing a subtle bite.

We are not at our best, Cloud Hands thought, and she knew she should shut Grace up, but she was starting at Heron, thinking about her pursuit of him.

"You're a monster!" Grace nearly screamed, and there was a catch in her voice which made it obvious that she was close to tears. "You killed Rajan Soo!" She pulled at the grip on her shoulder.

"It was a battle," Heron said calmly. "You were the one who put her in danger."

No one, Cloud Hands thought, surprisingly calm, could say such a thing without expecting a reaction. Grace screamed and broke free of Kiyoshi, raised her hammer, and managed two steps towards Heron before, surprisingly, Tolsay brought her down with a hard kick to her stomach.

He grabbed her, bent her wrist back until the hammer fell from it, and then dropped her onto the ground, his knee slamming into the small of her back. "You will stop acting like a fool," he told her, the accent gone from his voice. "If you wish to die do it elsewhere." He cuffed her hard behind the ear to make his point, then stood, taking a moment to kick her in the ribs.

Kiyoshi took a step forward, putting his foot on the shaft of Grace's hammer.

Cloud Hands felt terrible for the way Grace was being treated, for she wished she could be as angry as Grace, could attack with that mindless rage. It was bottled up in her for the moment, contained by exhaustion and confusion.

Tolsay looked at Cloud Hands, smiled. "Gonna play my own hand now, ya," he said, then turned and walked towards Heron.

"You ask for my aid," Tolsay said, stopping some distance from where Heron stood. "I'll give it, all I ask is one thing."

Heron said nothing for a moment, Cloud Hands wondered if he was a curious as she. "That that would be?" he asked.

"The girl, Ivory Peleps. I mean her no harm," he added quickly. "I just want her to speak with my superior. A place of your choosing."

"And who is your superior?" Heron asked.

"Mnemon Gazan."

"I know that name," Heron said.

Cloud Hands did as well. The leader of the Left, part of the Empress' personal guard. Tolsay had played her, all to get at this girl, she thought.

"I'm sure you do. But things have changed. Well, I'll make sure they change. Mnemon Gazen needs to speak with the girl, that is all. Once he's spoken with her, he won't need her dead. They just need to come to an agreement."

"So, you help, and I ask Ivory to meet with Gazan."

Tolsay nodded.

Heron looked towards Lann. "Opinions?"

"He's the smartest of them if you ask me. I'd make the deal sir."
Heron nodded and looked back to Tolsay. "Very well, we have an agreement."

Apparently satisfied with Tolsay, Heron shifted his attention onto her instead. Cloud Hands suddenly felt uncomfortable, vulnerable.
She did not like it.

He walked towards her, apparently unconcerned with the danger she, Grace (who had returned to her feet), Anzar and Kiyoshi represented. Or maybe they really were not a threat. She noted his smooth gait, felt a stab of jealousy and anger. Her knee, the one he had shattered, still pained her.

She did not like that thought either.

"You've been chasing me," he said to her.

Between clenched teeth, she said, "That's your fault."

"But I thought to chase Solars was what you lived for? You should be happy. Should I kill your companions, send you far away, let you start your chase again? Will that please you?"

His tone was so calm as if he really cared as if he were not mocking her.

"Monster," Grace said and strode towards him only to stop when the barrel of one of his pistols came to press against her forehead. Cloud Hands had not seen him draw the weapon, and she suspected neither had Grace.

"Back away," he told her, something in his voice, like the blade of a knife laid against a throat.

She did as he said.

Cloud Hands marvelled at that, in spite of herself.

He looked back at Cloud Hands. "I'll give you a choice," he told her. "You can continue to chase me, or I will allow you an option that will let you cease your pursuit."

"And what do I have to do to get this boon?" She managed to not clench her teeth.

"You will vow to serve me, faithfully, until the Mask of Winters is put down."

It was as if bile had risen in her throat, though there was nothing sour in her mouth. "You ask too much."

Heron stared at her. "You deserve no sympathy from me, but I offer it to you. You have caught up to me, and in this coming battle you might see me die, so your oath is not forsaken. Swear what I ask, and if you survive this coming battle, and I will allow your first oath to be discharged and you will know peace; do not survive it, then you will also find a peace of sorts."

"Only," she said, and she was proud of the sarcasm in her voice, "if you put down the Mask of Winters."

Heron smiled. "Do you doubt that it will happen?"

Cloud Hands was about to open her mouth but found she did not have the words to refute him. Did she doubt it? She so wanted to.

There was power in this man's words, power in his very presence. She had let the Anathema speak, she had listened to its words. I should have known better, Cloud Hands thought.

"I swear to serve you faithfully until the Mask of Winters is put down," she said, surprised how calm her tone sounded.

He put a free hand on her, the one that did not hold a pistol. "Let Heaven Sanctify this vow."

Sunlight exploded around him, lighting the area around them, chasing away the uncertain greys and leaving the distinct colours of the natural world about them.

Perhaps, Cloud Hands thought, she had hoped this display of the Anathema's power might free the riders from his influence, let them know what he really was. However not one of them spoke against him.

We were fools to ignore the Mask of Winters, she thought. He created the situation that allowed this.

Heron looked at her for a moment, then took his hand from her, the sunlight still spilled from his form. "Your remaining companions," he said, turning to look at them.

Cloud Hands looked towards them.

"The name of the angry one?" he asked lightly.

"Grace Mnemon," Cloud Hands said, furious that he made a jest of Grace's justified rage.

He looked at Grace. "I killed your companion Mnemon, but it was you brought her into danger. Survive this battle, and I will give you a chance to claim justice. The Sun and the Dragons will stand in judgement, and the one most deserving of their aid will live. Will you accept that."

Grace stared at him, teeth clenched, but after a moment she nodded. "I will kill you when that time comes."

"And if you do, that will be justice, but if you make a move while the threat of the Mask of Winter remains, I will execute you."

He turned his attention away from Grace and looked at Anzar. "Your punishment for the Death of Maddie Briar and what you did in Vinleau still remains. I would kill you now," he said and took a step towards Anzar, and Anzar took a step back, "but I still will give Ivory her chance to impose Justice. When this battle ends, run, run as fast as you can, because if I see you afterwards, I will kill you."

How frightened Anzar looked, Cloud Hands thought. How powerful Heron's words. What had Anzar done in Vinleau, who was this Maddie Briar to demand such anger?

Heron turned away from Anzar, as if he was nothing, and looked to Kiyoshi. "For the moment, I know nothing of you, but that you follow this woman."

Cloud Hands had to force herself not to shrink back as his gaze fell on her for a moment.

"Keep it that way," Heron told Kiyoshi, then turned towards Lann. "Get this force to the Spire. That is where Sparrow wants you."

"Yes sir," Lann said, saluting.

Heron walked to his horse, swung up onto the saddle. He looked at Cloud Hands. "Don't fail," was all he said, then turned the horse and rode off.

Cloud Hands looked at the terrestrials about her, no longer able to think of them as her Wyld Hunt.

"You can fly to the Spire. Show your seal to the forces there," Lann told her, then turned and started calling out commands to his men.

"Where's Iris?" Grace suddenly asked.

Cloud Hands looked towards her, and then around, noting that the priestess had disappeared.

"Forget about her," Cloud Hands said. "She's gone, probably ran away when she saw the danger we were facing."

"But..."

"Shut up," Cloud Hands growled, feeling guilty as she saw the hurt look that crossed Grace's face. But she could not be wiping noses, as Tolsay had accused her of doing. Not anymore.

Not after what she had done.

The wan sun rose, the rays feeble in the shadowland of Thorns, but strong enough to weaken the armies of the dead. Cold Rain stood near the head of that army, staring out at the lands before him, the lands of the Marukan Alliance.

He reached over and gently stroked the cheek of the zombie that stood at his side. He took its hands and directed them in opening the parasol it carried, then shifting the canopy and hands, so the zombie held it above its head. "There you go mother, I know how you dislike the sun."

The zombie moaned almost inaudibly, and Cold Rain smiled.

He turned his attention back to the lands in front of him. Then, in the sky, he saw a small speck of black, and he lifted his hand.

Not long after his Black raiton alighted on his wrist. He gently stroked it beak. "What have you come to tell me, Baron," he asked as he brought the bird close to his face.

It was how Lady Blood found him as she rode up on her tall stallion. The small Dajalan woman almost looked ridiculous on the animal, the high spirited horse nearly knocking the zombie at his side over. Baron took to the air, cawing loudly at horse and rider as Cold Rain reached down to pick up the fallen parasol and return it to the zombie's hands.

"What has your spy bird discovered," Lady Blood demanded, in her incongruously deep voice.

"The Marukan send forces to the river to stop our advance force, and more are on the march to confront us."

"So it is battle," Lady Blood said, sounding happy. "They march to their deaths." She swung her strange, scissor-like weapon from her back, spinning it about. "I will soak the ground in their blood."

"I don't think so," Cold Rain said as he focused on the arranging the zombies thin, stringy hair.

"Why not?" she asked him. "The Marukan are not complex opponents."

"They have certainly behaved as complex opponents," Cold Rain told her, then looked away from the zombie to focus his attention on Lady Blood. "I think they plan to fall back to the Spire."

She shook her head. "That is not the action of the riders. They charge always forward and will not hide behind walls."

"Normally I might agree with you."

Lady Blood had not long been a servant of the Mask of Winters and some of her bravado, Cold Rain thought, was brought on by inexperience and uncertainty. She was a wonderfully capable fighter, and made the ghosts and mortals around her love and fear her, but she was not the tactician that the Maiden of the Mirthless Smile was.

"So what will we do? Charge forward and stop them before they can fortify?" she asked. "Shall we engage this force that moves against us?"

"That, of course, is the question," Cold Rain said.

Lady Blood said nothing for a moment. "You think not. You don't care if they hide behind the walls."

Cold Rain nodded.

"Because you know those walls are not as strong as our enemy might think."

Again Cold Rain nodded, glad to see that there was more to the woman than bloodlust. "We shall await our Master's plan to unfold, let whoever leads them think the walls of the Spire will protect them. This general will learn soon enough that the Mask of Winters has taken everything into account, and you or I shall cut their heart out for their failure to comprehend that simple fact."

Lady Blood smiled and nodded. "Yes, I will enjoy that."