are hurt, I won’t be able to bear it. So, for me, please, please stay safe.”
He kissed her and the men cheered, but Catherine hardly noticed. She stroked his cheek and promised, “I will.”
Davyon was sitting astride his huge horse at the head of the blue-hairs, who outnumbered the white-hairs standing beside them ten to one. They would bear the brunt of the fighting, with Catherine’s men providing support on the flank.
Catherine mounted her own horse and they set off together. They split at the stream just outside the camp, Catherine’s white-hairs heading due north to the River Ross, Davyon and the blue-hairs turning west to the coast road before they too swung north. Once over the shallow stream, Catherine took a last glance at the camp and Tzsayn. She was sure he was there somewhere, looking back at her. Then she turned away and set her gaze forward, toward the far gray wall of the Northern Plateau.
MARCH
ABASK, CALIDOR
THE BOYS swarmed down the steep-sided valleys of Abask. March was in his home country, the land where his mother, father, and brother had died, slaughtered by Brigantines, by Aloysius. And now March was running with Brigantines and servant to Aloysius’s son. And this, more than anything, hurt and shamed him. But what surprised him was that Harold was aware of how he might be feeling. As they ran, the prince said, “You’re in your old country, March, but now you’re fighting with your father’s enemies. What’s that like?”
March found it was more and more of a struggle to slip back into his blank servitude, but he tried. “Abask died years ago, Your Highness. This land is empty now and times have changed. I must fight for my own future.”
“Times have changed indeed. Now we boys will rule the world.”
We? No, you want to rule. Anyone who gets in your way will be killed. All I can do is try to ensure Edyon never crosses your path.
Harold looked down at Calidor before him. The view was an idyllic scene of woods and green farmland; wherever the Calidorian army was, it wasn’t here. “Thelonius is hiding in his castle, I can feel it. He’s terrified to meet us.”
“Perhaps he thinks you will stay at the wall and await the main Brigantine army.”
“Like my father wanted me to do. Those old men are out of touch with modern warfare. Their days are numbered. I am the future. The boys’ brigades are the future. Nothing will stop us. I’m going to make history.”
And on they ran. Some boys inhaled more smoke as they went. They didn’t stop to eat or drink—the smoke was all they needed. They ran south down the hills, crossing fields to join the road to Calia. The first Calidorians they saw were at a village on the road. An old man stood in front of his cottage and stared at them. In the distance March saw some villagers fleeing for the trees. Harold gave the order for them to be killed. March was shocked that the boys didn’t hesitate. These were ordinary people, not soldiers, but Harold didn’t care.
At the next village more were killed, but Harold was already getting bored of it. It was a diversion from his real task, and it was slowing them down, so the boys ran through the villages, but they didn’t chase those who fled.
The boys ran all day, and it was only when the sun was low in the sky that March saw the sea and Calia Castle before it. As they neared, the sky darkened as night fell, and torches were lit on the highest battlements. Somehow the walls of the castle looked taller than March remembered, even though he’d lived much of his life here. Mostly he’d been inside looking out. Now, looking up, even with smoke flowing through him, he couldn’t see how Harold could take these walls. If Edyon was in there, he was safe.
March had expected that Thelonius and his army would be waiting for them outside the castle, but they met no opposition.
Harold muttered, “He’s gone to the border wall. He’ll be on the coast road, plodding up there to join the bulk of his army and confront Thornlees.”
March tried to make out the flags at the very top of the castle. It was hard to see in the dark, but he was sure that Thelonius’s flag was not flying. Harold seemed to be correct: Thelonius would be heading to the point of invasion, not expecting the boys’