Many had seemed to expect Sofy to trade pants and jacket for her dress and resume princessly ways once some semblance of civilisation had been restored. Certainly any number of young soldiers remained ready and eager to wait upon her every need. And yet Sofy remained in the clothes she'd ridden in, alternating between those and some others she'd borrowed from the cottage, seeming to belong to a boy of younger years. When asked, she'd simply smiled and said, “There will be plenty of time for dresses later, I'm sure.”
Much of the past two days, she'd spent watering and tending to the gardens, accumulating dirt stains on clothes and face, and becoming sweaty in the warm midday sun. Sasha was sure that “happy” hardly described Sofy's mood. But it was equally plain that whatever unhappiness there was, the gardening was a part of the cure.
Sasha went outside to sit on the wooden bench before the lower garden and survey the scene as she ate some breakfast. Sunlight fell upon the valley's far slope, although this, the eastern side, remained in shadow. Snowcaps upon the further mountains gleamed in the light, and the terraced fields, cottages, orchards and trails along the valley's western side shone in serene, golden detail.
Across the valley floor below camped her army…if one could call it a camp. There were no tents, of course, although men were sharing empty accommodation on rotating shifts. There were many, many hundreds of horses across the green fields to either side of the Yumynis, and many thousands more back to the south. They were more than seven thousand, now, and more had continued to appear up until the king's arrival last evening. Even now, she could see perhaps three hundred horse to either side of the river, formed and ready, in case of action. At night, that number doubled, and shifts were constantly rotated. But the moon had been full and the Hadryn had not risked such overwhelming odds.
Further north, the Hadryn camp appeared strangely orderly by contrast, white tents lined in neat rows across the fields. Black banners flew, and catapults stood at intervals along the line, their long arms drooping as the morning shadow crept across the valley floor. Men could be seen exercising and drilling, others moving about the tents, tending to fires and breakfast. Horses grazed on the grass, and opposing formations of infantry and cavalry remained also on permanent watch—their numbers roughly similar to what opposed them. A thousand remaining cavalry, it had been estimated, and another two thousand infantry. Not nearly enough to break through the force that had trapped them.
Beyond the Hadryn, where the grassy fields turned to rising rock, and the valley sides began to draw together in steep, precipitous sides, a stone wall spanned the valley from side to side, its ends buried into near-vertical cliff. Blue and gold banners hung along the wall, the colours of the Udalyn, and warriors could be seen moving upon the battlements. There was a large single wooden gate on this side of the river, a smaller one upon the far side. Most amazingly of all, the Yumynis River spewed through a narrow cleft in that rock, a roaring spray of white foam. The Udalyn had moved the river, a long time ago. The wall's foundations spanned a dry, rocky depression where the river had evidently once flowed. They must have carved this steep, narrow cut themselves, diverted the waters into it, then built the wall over it. The scale of it amazed her.
Several Udalyn warriors had climbed across the steep cliffs and around the wall by moonlight to tell those who could understand their broken Taasti that there were caves at the valley's end. Thousands of people were hiding there, having left their land before the advancing Hadryn wave, driving most of their livestock before them. Food for people and animals was constantly stockpiled in those caves, and the Udalyn were a long way from hungry yet.
The wall was another matter, cracked and crumbling beneath the constant pounding of Hadryn artillery. In several places, the wall had collapsed entirely. The Hadryn had made four breaches, the Udalyn said, and then tried an attack. Even with four separate points of attack, their men had taken heavy casualties from arrowfire as they'd scrambled up the unstable mounds of stone, and had then met ferocious resistance at the top. The Hadryn had dismantled houses and fence walls in their thirst for ammunition,