to the power of the demon smoke, he clambered out of the ditch, his clothes burning and his hair aflame. Byron ran to Ellis, patted him down, and helped him roll on the ground to put out the fire.
“He’ll heal, I suppose,” Regan said, looking down at him.
“Yes, but he’ll still have scars,” Edyon muttered. And to Ellis he said, “I’m sorry.”
Ellis lay back, the wounds already healing as he said, “No, I’m sorry, Your Highness. I didn’t listen to your order. I didn’t even make the leap.”
“I’d like to see Aloysius send his boy army across our wall!” Lord Hunt shouted over them, ignoring Ellis’s plight. “I’d like to see them all burn.”
A few other lords shouted their agreement.
Lord Regan spoke to the audience. “Prince Thelonius, my lords, I’m sure we’re all grateful for this informative demonstration of the demon smoke by Prince Edyon. It’s clear that the smoke gives strength and speed, but it doesn’t protect from fire, and it also impairs judgment and discipline. We don’t need to join forces with the Pitorians. We need to ensure our defenses remain strong.”
“Indeed so, Lord Regan,” Lord Hunt agreed. “We can beat it.” And he began to clap. “Well done, Prince Edyon, for your enlightening demonstration.”
But that isn’t what the demonstration was meant to show at all.
MARCH
BRIGANT
MARCH AND Sam walked together, mostly in silence. When Sam did talk, he fantasized about the future, which was always wonderful, and March, when he did talk, mused about the present, which was far from wonderful. The most pressing issue was food and how to get more. The rabbit traps had yielded two rabbits. They’d eaten them and all the food March had stolen, but they were hardly growing fat.
They avoided the few villages they passed and both hid as soon as they saw a cart coming along the road. March suspected Sam hid because he had committed some crime, possibly hurt the owner of the clothes he was wearing, which he assumed was Sam’s master. But March wasn’t that interested in finding out, and Sam certainly wasn’t going to volunteer the information. March hid because he wasn’t sure how any locals would take to him, an Abask, as the territory of Abask was part of Calidor and thus the enemy. He expected the reaction of most Brigantines would be similar to that of the farmer he’d stolen from.
Another lesson March had learned from that farmer was how stones could be used for protection. As he walked, March picked up stones from the side of the road and threw them at randomly chosen targets, such as a tree trunk or a bush. Stones were the only weapon he had, but they were better than nothing and might protect him if they got into trouble.
Sam did make his presence known to fellow travelers twice to ask the way to Hornbridge, which was where he’d been told that the boy army was camped. After two days they eventually reached the outskirts of the village, but there was no sign of a boy army.
“If they were ever here, they’re not anymore.” March kicked at a cow pat.
“Should we ask someone?”
“Be my guest.” March waved his arm toward the village.
Sam hesitated but then set off toward the houses. March hung back and hid in the trees, feeling like an outlaw but not sure why.
A short while later Sam was running back, a smile on his face. “They were here a week ago. Just a small number of them. Boys our age. Not a full army but definitely part of one.”
March smiled too, though he suddenly felt nervous. He knew his plan to be a boy soldier, gain information, and help Edyon was absurd, but suddenly at least part of it was becoming more real.
“They went west into those hills,” said Sam. “Come on. We’ll be with them soon. I can feel it.”
But they saw no sign of an army or a brigade or even one boy other than themselves. They finally stopped as it was getting dark and made a fire but had little to eat.
“When we find the army, at least we’ll have food,” Sam said, poking at the fire.
March nodded. “Food and fighting.”
Sam frowned at March. “What’s wrong with that? I want to fight for Brigant and Aloysius. It’s my country; he’s my king. Why do you want to fight for him?”
March had been thinking of this. He needed a good story, and he’d have to convince more people than Sam of his new allegiance.