been decided not to stand siege locked up in Frostmarris, and so a series of deep trenches and embankments of earth were painstakingly dug from the frozen land of the plain. Concentric defensive rings surrounded the city, extending out to the eaves of the forest at the point where the road entered it. The thirty thousand soldiers were stretched a little thin in some places, but it was hoped that in the spring the fyrds from different parts of the country would come to help. There was also the question of the allies. The Wolffolk gathering was continuing, it was reported, but progress was slow. It could be well into spring before the muster was complete. And the Vampire King and Queen remained as elusive and enigmatic as ever. They were a law unto themselves, and would arrive to help if and when they chose.
In the meantime the Wolffolk scouts continued to spy on Scipio Bellorum, and reported massive troop movement coming through the pass from the Empire. In the south of the country where the general was based in the city of Inglesby, the first breath of spring could be felt. There wasn’t exactly a thaw, but at night the stones of the houses no longer cracked in freezing temperatures, and during the warmest parts of the day the ice and snow looked as though it just might start melting, given a little more encouragement.
Bellorum, like all brilliant generals, was well attuned to his surroundings and felt the change in the air. He smiled his grim smile and sent more messengers through the pass. His armies were gathering, and soon he’d be ready to unleash his attack. Before him lay a four-day march to the capital of this little land, but he was too sensible to strike north without first securing his rear. He’d learned his lesson during the winter when he’d lost thousands of troops in a blizzard on a reckless mission to seize the capital. But now he was once again in full command of his instincts. There were two cities and three major towns in this Southern Riding, as it was so uncouthly called by its inhabitants, and they needed to be captured and garrisoned before he moved on Frostmarris. Nothing would be left to chance this time. The Icemark needed a war that was precisely planned and ruthlessly executed, and both precision and ruthlessness were his forte.
He stretched his elegant legs out to the fire burning in the hearth before him and called the servant for wine. There were at least another ten days or so before things really got under way, and like many old campaigners, he was determined to enjoy the luxury of rest while it was still available. His general staff officers could handle the bread and butter of the logistics; as a true artist of war, he’d wait until the canvas was ready for the master’s hand.
Thirrin and Oskan looked out over the plain from the highest point of the city’s battlements. The moon was half full, and the frozen land glittered under the subtle light like a tray of frosted diamonds.
“Do you remember the journey to the Hub of the World?” Thirrin asked. “It’s odd, but it seems as if it happened only yesterday, and then again in another life, both at the same time.”
“Yes,” Oskan agreed. “Yesterday and years ago. I’d never have believed it while it was happening, but now I feel that it was one of the best times of my life. Nothing to think about but the journey ahead. Nothing else to fear but the fact that we might die, which somehow helped to make everything else seem completely unimportant.”
Thirrin snuggled down farther into her cloak, then said, “Do you know, there was one point when I could have wished the journey would last for all time. We’d just seen the northern lights, the sky seemed on fire, and the werewolves were pounding on through the dark, and I felt completely … at peace. There’s no other way of putting it. I’m sure if we’d died then, we’d have just traveled on into forever….”
Oskan looked at her. “Hey, where’s my warrior-queen, ready to fight for her place in Valhalla?”
“She’s just a bit tired, Oskan. And scared.”
He stopped his jaw from dropping open just in time, but then recovered quickly. “Well, as to that, I bet the most seasoned housecarls are wetting themselves. We’re facing Scipio Bellorum and his disciplined madmen. You’ve got a right to be