fallen leaves and drenching the watching people in the rich scents of damp earth and leaf litter. Then, as swiftly as it came, the wind dropped and silence returned.
“Well, well, how fascinating,” said Maggiore Totus from where he sat on his mare just behind Thirrin. “Unless we are all suffering the effects of mass hysteria, I think I am going to have to reassess my own personal view of natural history. It seems the Oak King and his people and, by a natural projection, the Holly King and his subjects, really do exist. Madam, watching you has been an important addition to my education.”
“Don’t forget the werewolf, Maggie,” Thirrin answered.
“No, indeed. How could I?”
“Just name any other animals you think belong in the world of mythology, and I have a feeling that in the next few months we’re likely to meet them face-to-face.”
Redrought lay back as comfortably as he could. Most of the pain had abated and now he merely felt deathly tired. The view around him was grim. As far as he could see, dead and badly injured soldiers lay where they had fallen, though over the last few hours most of the moaning had faded away and only the flap and flutter of carrion crows disturbed the quiet.
He was beginning to feel light-headed, probably from the loss of blood, he managed to reason. And his eyesight was definitely ebbing away. He could no longer be sure if it really was beginning to get cloudy or not. If General Snow was really on his way, then he could go happily. He’d smashed the first Polypontian army and Thirrin would have time to prepare for a spring offensive. He smiled fondly. She was a formidable young woman and would make a fearsome queen, the mixing of the royal blood of the Icemark with that of the fighting women of the Hypolitan had produced a wildcat! Young Oskan would need all his warlock’s power to keep up with her. He laughed aloud, and then suddenly stopped. On the very edge of his fading sight, three figures appeared. They were tall and armored like rich housecarls, but as they came closer he could see they were extraordinarily beautiful young women.
“Hail, Redrought Strong-in-the-Arm Lindenshield, Bear of the North!” one of them said in a voice that was both fierce and melodic. “You must leave all of this behind and come with us!”
“Where to?” Redrought asked, overawed by the young women’s presence.
“To Asgard! Your place at the table awaits you in the hall of Valhalla. Come, the Lord Odin will not be kept waiting.”
Redrought was surprised to find that he could stand and was free of pain. The stern young women smiled and, taking his hands, they led him toward a beautiful bridge of rainbow light.
The pass through the mountain range called the Dancing Maidens was still open, and the regiment of Polypontian cavalry trotted through unopposed. They’d been sent by their command as reinforcements for the invading army that had set out three days earlier, and they fully expected to find a comfortable encampment waiting for them, or even billets in one of the captured cities. No messengers had been sent back proclaiming the expected victories, but this wasn’t unusual. A small country such as the Icemark wouldn’t present any difficulties to a Polypontian force, and to proclaim such a victory would be to state the obvious.
The officer of the cavalry was young and had been bitterly disappointed not to have been included in the first wave of the invasion, but discipline was all and he’d accepted his orders without question. Now he was leading his troop of one thousand horses to join a campaign that wouldn’t get properly under way until the following spring, and he happily expected to bring honor to his family name of Cassius Brontus.
The idea to begin the invasion in the winter and secure a staging post for the following year had been proposed by the great General Scipio Bellorum and had undoubtedly taken the armies of the small country completely by surprise. Tucked in his saddlebag, Cassius Brontus had a map of the South Farthing of the Icemark that had been drawn by Polypontian spy cartographers earlier that year. Nothing would have changed, but even if it had, he expected to find the victorious invading army simply by following the path of destruction and death they’d have left in their wake.
The mouth of the pass came into view and he called a halt. The cavalry training manual