north, if not to go to war with all of us?” Jurdef Ivran mused, examining the lines more carefully. “There was not time to mount a response like this; it must have already been planned. I would have called every man in the countryside had I known!”
“Very well, what should we do?” Bennor asked, looking particularly afflicted. There was no immediate reply. Madia studied the other lords now gathered tightly about, the grim looks on their faces.
“I'll tell you the first thing we're going to do,” Madia muttered. She turned in her saddle and faced back down the slope, then cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Frost!”
A long moment passed while the sorcerer and his Subartans left the company of the two court wizards, Grish and Marrn, and made their way up to the cluster of nobles. He acknowledged Madia, then stared out across the shallow valley at the great army gathered on the other side. As he watched the far hill his mood seemed to grow very dark; Madia had never seen him so since they had fled Kamrit Castle.
“We need a means to better the odds,” Madia said. “There are far too many of them.”
“I will do what I can,” Frost replied coldly, a tone that matched his features. Madia frowned at him. “I know how you feel,” she said, leaning toward him, “but you must help us.”
“He is there,” Frost replied, colder still.
“Ferris? You see him?”
“I sense him, somewhere, perhaps there among the trees, just out of the sun. He will attempt to counter anything I do.”
“And you will counter whatever he tries,” Hoke said in a hopeful tone.
Frost lowered his voice and turned to Madia. “I will do what I can, but the omens . . . ” He paused, taking a breath. “The pebbles tell of certain doom, a pattern of chaos, and the wind has come round to our backs, betraying us to our enemies, and only last night as we sat near the fire, a beetle crawled across my boot, a sure sign of death.”
“Probably the same one I crushed,” Madia said.
Frost's face bunched l
“Very well, what should we do?” Bennor asked, looking particularly afflicted. There was no immediate reply. Madia studied the other lords now gathered tightly about, the grim looks on their faces.
“I'll tell you the first thing we're going to do,” Madia muttered. She turned in her saddle and faced back down the slope, then cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Frost!”
A long moment passed while the sorcerer and his Subartans left the company of the two court wizards, Grish and Marrn, and made their way up to the cluster of nobles. He acknowledged Madia, then stared out across the shallow valley at the great army gathered on the other side. As he watched the far hill his mood seemed to grow very dark; Madia had never seen him so since they had fled Kamrit Castle.
“We need a means to better the odds,” Madia said. “There are far too many of them.”
“I will do what I can,” Frost replied coldly, a tone that matched his features. Madia frowned at him. “I know how you feel,” she said, leaning toward him, “but you must help us.”
“He is there,” Frost replied, colder still.
“Ferris? You see him?”
“I sense him, somewhere, perhaps there among the trees, just out of the sun. He will attempt to counter anything I do.”
“And you will counter whatever he tries,” Hoke said in a hopeful tone.
Frost lowered his voice and turned to Madia. “I will do what I can, but the omens . . . ” He paused, taking a breath. “The pebbles tell of certain doom, a pattern of chaos, and the wind has come round to our backs, betraying us to our enemies, and only last night as we sat near the fire, a beetle crawled across my boot, a sure sign of death.”
“Probably the same one I crushed,” Madia said.
Frost's face bunched l