BlackThorn's Doom Page 0,87

face a Troll?”

Connell grinned. “I guess not,” He said. “You’re no longer my student are you?”

Casius joined the line of men who were passing along flat stones from the pile of rubble at the escarpments base. The walls of the pit and its floor were being lined with dry set rock.

The bodies of the dead men were wrapped in their cloaks and laid within the trench with weapons upon their chests.

It took the better part of a week to construct the mound. Taller than two men it stood, covered with fresh cut sod from a nearby hillside. The men resting within a mix of all nations, they fought side by side in life and in death they were interred together.

The Morne were gathered and burned. The fires leaving dark scars upon the earth that for many years would never grow grass.

Gaelan swore to rebuild the ruined temple nearby and dedicate it to the memory of those who died here.

On the ninth day following the battle a weary group of men left the hills and out onto the open grasslands. The men moved slowly, marching in loose ranks with the Kings of Kesh and Ao’dan at their head.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was a weary column of less than two thousand men who reached plain before Cal’Arev. They were battered, not one among their number was without injury.

As they entered the dried lakebed about the city bells began to toll from the buildings. Six Riders appeared on the broad causeway. With lances held high and streaming pennants of scarlet attached just below the steel heads.

The men formed ranks and marched forward with determined strides. The weariness was still upon them but they hid it well.

The riders drew up short of the approaching men. “My Lord.” Their Captain said greeting Gaelan. “Dismount.” He ordered his men. He strode forward and offered Gaelan his mount.

“I have come this far,” Gaelan said refusing the offer. “And I will not ride while these good men must continue afoot.”

The Captain bowed, stepping aside as Gaelan led the column forward. “What news do you bear?” He asked one of the bloody warriors.”

“Sur’kar’s dead and the Morne have been routed.” The man replied without breaking stride.

The Captain stood staring at the men in awe as they marched past, his guards smiling broadly at the news.

“Do we escort them into the city?” One of his men asked.

“Ride ahead, Jebin.” The captain ordered. “Give word to the steward. These men have earned a heroes welcome.”

Jebin saluted and galloped off for the city.

The Captain ordered his men to follow well behind the warriors. “It is their day not ours.” He said.

They reached the ramp leading into the city and a crowd of thousands lined the thoroughfare. Cheers greeted the men, the crowds waving brightly colored clothes from every balcony and window. Even the rooftops were crowded with onlookers.

The city quickly took on the atmosphere of a carnival. Vendors plied their wares from shop windows and Bards performed on every corner. From the Inns along the way serving girls rushed out and handed mugs of ale to the marching men.

The people lining the way to the keep were thin, each bearing the haunted eyes of someone who had seen much death and destruction. And yet they cheered, the grief a mere shadow of what it was.

The people began to shout Gaelan’s name, over and over until the pigeons fled the rooftops to escape the mounting din.

Gaelan swallowed his embarrassment and waved to the crowds as they passed. He looked to the others apologetically.

King Pelatus grinned with amusement. “These are your people. They have felt the blow harder than any others. It is right that they praise you.”

Burcott shouldered his way into the front line. In each of his hands he held a pewter mug. White foam spilled over the tops and splashed on his armor. “Take this.” He said shoving one into Casius’s hand. “I promised you a keg, but this will do for a start.”

Casius hoisted the mug and emptied it in one long swallow. “Lord Fullvie,” He said smacking his lips. “Your taste in ale is impeccable.”

Burcott lifted his mug and drained its contents. “I had to try several varieties out before I found this one.” He said with a soft belch.

Gaelan laughed. “I’m sure you drained every mug offered.”

“Of course, mi lord.” Fullvie answered with feigned surprise. “To do otherwise is to insult the barkeep.” He wiped the foam from his lips with the back of his hand. “I am a member