Stonebridge would mean for the refugees, should the Shadovar resist it. The refugees were not soldiers.
“Those who get over the bridge will disperse in hopes of avoiding Shadovar pursuit,” Abelar said.
Endren looked off into the darkness. “Let us hope it does not come to that.”
“Indeed. But we should prepare.”
“I will assist you with the mounts.”
“Someone must stay with Elden.”
On another day, at another time, he could have asked Jiriis to mind Elden. He trusted her and she loved him and his son. But Jiriis had ridden with Regg and the company into the storm, where Abelar should have been.
“I will do it alone,” Abelar said.
The shadows attacked in disorganized, chaotic swirls. Hundreds swarmed toward the Company, whirling frantically in an effort to get at the living. There were so many that Regg knew his company would be surrounded.
“Closed circle,” he said to Trewe, who announced the order with his trumpet. To Roen, Regg said, “You and the priests stand within the ranks. You are to keep us lit throughout.”
“Aye,” said the tall priest, and he turned, shouting orders to his fellow priests.
Men and women hurried into position, splashing through the rain and the mud. They stood shield to sword in a closed circle. Roen and his priests stood in their midst holding incandescent wands aloft, an island of light against which an ocean of night would break.
Or so Regg hoped.
Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed. The shadows closed.
The junior priests chanted a prayer to Lathander and held aloft their hands. A rose-colored hue expanded outward from their palms and touched every man and woman in the company. The magic of the spell calmed Regg’s heart and mind.
“The Morninglord has blessed our efforts,” Roen proclaimed.
The shadows began to keen as they closed, a sound like the screams of the dying.
Roen and the senior priests chanted the words to more powerful spells, and beams of searing white light went forth from their outstretched hands. The scythes of luminescence knifed through the approaching shadows and burned away a score of them. Two score took their place.
“The Morninglord is with you all,” Regg shouted, his voice as level as a planed board. He felt the heft of his sword and shield.
“And you,” they answered as one.
Behind the swarm of shadows were more shadows, more. The line of their glowing red eyes seemed endless. Regg whispered a prayer to the Morninglord that infused his shield and sword with the Lathander’s holy energy until both glowed a soft pink. Others along the line did the same, and flowers of rosy light bloomed in the darkness.
Beside him, he heard Trewe chanting in a whisper, not a spell, but a prayer nevertheless.
“We stand in the light. We stand in the light.”
Regg bumped his shield into Trewe’s blade. “Look under your feet.”
Trewe peeled his eyes from the shadows to look at the dead grass underfoot.
“That is your world,” Regg said. “One pace wide. You hold that ground.”
Trewe nodded and turned his eyes back to the horde of shadows. They drew closer. Some dived into the earth, some darted above, some came directly at the line.
Regg turned to measure his line one final time. The men and women stood in tight ranks, blades, shields, and wills all hard and sharp. Roen and his eight priests stood spaced in the center of the circle, illuminated in blazing light, the roses on their shields and breastplates catching the light and twinkling like stars.
Roen shouted an order to his fellow priests and all of them intoned prayers to Lathander. When they finished their spells, a faintly glowing sword composed of magical force appeared and took station beside each of them. Regg knew the weapons would defend the priests, attack whom they directed, allow them to focus on keeping the company in the light and holding the shadows outside the circle.
Regg turned from the light to the darkness, and braced himself as the shadows ate the distance. The unnatural pitch of the dark creatures’ keening stood his hair on end.
The undead swirled uncertainly as they neared the light of the company, but their hesitation lasted only a moment. Hundreds of shadows churned forward.
Moving into the light transformed the appearance of the shadows, sharpened the soft, dark borders of their forms and features. Regg caught glimpses of the men and women they had been in life. He saw shadowy ghosts of armor, weapons, and tabards featuring the wheel of the overmistress’s army.
He knew then what had happened to Forrin’s army. And he knew, too, that his company