was a ragged, uneven, rocky mountain face with many ridgeline ascents that looked both promising and treacherous in turn. The column now numbered nearly four and a half thousand, as a large group of Taneryn militia and most of the Taneryn Red Swords company had arrived the previous evening, with promises of more to come. If the column had been strungout before, it would now become much more so, toiling up the mountain rise.
By midmorning, the ride had indeed become a hard slog, riders dismounting in places to walk their struggling animals up a particularly steep or loose stretch. The road became little more than a narrow, rocky horsetrail, flanked increasingly by sheer drops that revealed a magnificent yet alarming view. Many times during the climb, Sasha turned in her saddle to look back down and marvel at the endless line of men and horses, nose-to-tail in her wake. By midday the column head had cleared the worst of the sheer cliffs and, while the trail remained steep, they were enfolded once more by pine trees. But then, within the space of a thousand strides, the weather changed.
At first it rained, then it blew hard and strong, bending the trees and snapping no few within range. Soft earth turned to slippery mud and riders tried to hold their mounts to grass or loose gravel; Sasha heard many curses and calls of warning or alarm from further down the slope. Then the mist closed in, enfolding the column until it was difficult to see more than five or six horses in any direction. They stopped for a lunchtime rest, men feeding hay or oats they had brought with them from Cryliss to horses who had little grazing room upon the narrow, precarious trailside. Water at least remained no problem, as the trail crossed small runoff streams frequently.
Shortly after lunch, the trail became level and wound its way along one side of a rift known as Galryd's Pass, for Galryd the Bloody had used it frequently, legend told, to wreak havoc upon Valhanan and beyond. It was reputed to be spectacular, but Sasha saw little through the mist, and was forced to imagine the great, looming peaks presently towering to either side. Far better than a view, it made for some of the easiest riding since Baen-Tar, and the horses moved with a relief that spoke of their assurance that their riders were not entirely crazy, to have chosen such a route. But then, all too soon, came the descent.
“I'd thought when we were climbing,” Sofy quipped, “that I'd like downhills much more than uphills. Now I see I like neither.” Amidst slippery rocks and poor visibility, most riders spent more time dismounted than astride.
Daryd had to urge exhausted little Rysha to walk, lest Essey slip and topple her onto the rocks. He stepped carefully from loose, slippery rock to rock, Essey's reins in one hand, his sister's hand in the other. Seeing him, Sasha felt the most intense admiration. Daryd had not complained once, and his first thoughts were always for Rysha. And Rysha, the cautious, less adventurous one, had perhaps been even braver.
Halfway down the mountainside, the slope eased enough to allow riders back in the saddle and the column emerged below the grey, misting ceiling. The sight was breathtaking, with vast, tree-covered mountainsides plunging from the clouds. Branches dripped and small rivulets of water carved lines across the trail. There were thick tangles of broadleaf amongst the pine that Sasha did not know the names of, and vines that crept up the bark of pines and sprouted little blue flowers. Strange birds sung in the treetops, their cries echoing across the foothills. She was in Hadryn, where she had only been twice before, when several two-thousand-plus Cherrovan incursions had outflanked the Hadryn cavalry and threatened Valhanan. Before her, glistening through a break in the trees, was the curling bend of the River Yumynis, flowing from the heart of the Udalyn Valley.
Men stood in the stirrups to gain a better view, marvelling at a scene most had only heard described in tales. Some pointed, others muttered oaths, and some made the spirit sign. Daryd exclaimed something loudly to Rysha, who cried out in delight. Captain Tyrun fell back to ride at Sasha's side as the path became barely wide enough for two.
“Ymoth,” he said, pointing through the trees toward a dark patch amidst the foothills. Sasha peered, straining her eyes. The Yumynis curled about before them, to the east it