When people discover I was in the Battle of Grandford, they assume I am a hero because they think that about everyone who was there. That is the nature of myths. But the truth is, in the whole battle I only had one lousy job. One! And I failed. Well, maybe not failed, but no one could say that what happened was a success.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
Like most of the men of Alon Rhist, Raithe had no idea what the ringing bell meant, but he guessed it wasn’t good. In his experience, sounds of unexpected announcements like horns and drums were never followed by welcome news, but he was also Dureyan. He had been trained from birth that anything new—especially if it was loud—was a threat. Raithe was the first to the top of the parapet above the front gate because he was already on his way there when the bell began ringing. He’d gone to find Malcolm, to talk to him about Meryl, but when he didn’t find him, he decided to return to his ritual. Each evening after training, he climbed up to look out over the river at the land of his birth. He usually just leaned against the wall, stared, and asked why? He never expected to find an answer, but he felt the question needed to be asked for all those who no longer could. That he should be the only one left to mourn the passing of a clan he had so desperately wanted to leave was more than ironic; it was sickening.
While Raithe was the first to reach the parapet, he was far from the last. Drawn by the sound, dozens came up, asking one another what was happening. Once on the parapet, no one asked anymore. Everyone could see the lights.
Raithe remembered being on the wall at Dahl Tirre, looking out at the multitudes of the Gula-Rhunes. All those campfires had been a frightening sight, a multitude of flickering yellow stars. This was different, and Raithe didn’t care for the change. Out beyond Grandford were fewer lights than in Tirre, but these were arranged in neat, straight, evenly spaced rows. Raithe wasn’t an expert on warfare, but he guessed that such precision wasn’t a good sign.
“Thought I’d find you here.” Malcolm nudged in beside him as the space along the front wall grew crowded. “Not so many as before, eh?”
“Is that all?” Farmer Wedon asked, standing on Raithe’s left.
The farmer had spent the winter becoming First Spearman Wedon of the Second Cohort of the Rhune Legion, but Raithe still saw him as the wheat farmer he’d first met in Dahl Rhen. The same was true of Tope Highland and his three sons, all of whom were assigned to the forward principal line as members of the First File, First Cohort. Bergin the Brewer and Tanner Riggles were back spears. Bruce Baker and Filson the Lamp were part of Moya’s special Archery Auxiliary. They all gathered around to peer out at their first glimpse of the enemy they had heard so much about.
“How many do you think there are?” Bergin asked.
“Don’t know, two thousand, maybe?” Tope said.
“Roan?” Engleton called down the line of spectators. The woman in her leather apron stood staring like the rest of them. Did she ever stop? “Are my shoulder plates done?”
“Almost,” she replied.
Raithe could have answered for her. For the past six months, almost was nearly all Roan ever said. Even if she hadn’t started on something, even if the inquiry was the first she’d heard that something was needed, or wanted, the answer was always almost.
“Do you think they’ll attack tonight?” Grevious asked. The carpenter from Menahan was one of the last to reach the parapet, but he arrived in full armor and gear: chest and shoulder plates, iron helm, leathers, shield, and spear.
Bergin saw Grevious and looked worried. “Are we supposed to be suited?”
Grevious shrugged. “Just playing it safe. Don’t want to be scrambling at the last minute.”
“Should we be forming up? Does anyone know?” Heath Coswall asked. “Wedon, you’re First Spearman, what are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“They just got here,” Raithe replied. “Doubt they’re planning a night assault after a long day of walking. But tomorrow is likely to begin early.”
“We gonna wait for them, or are we going out to attack? Anyone know?” Kurt, one of Tope’s sons, asked. He was about the same age as Tesh.
Raithe looked around. He was tall enough to see over most everyone’s heads. Tesh wasn’t there. Back with Brin again. Kid picked a lousy time to fall in love.
Heath was leaning out over the edge, trying to get a better look. “Wish they would attack tonight. I’m tired of waiting.”
“Let’s hope they don’t agree,” Raithe said. “There might only be a couple thousand out there, but we have less in here.”
He looked up at the Spyrok. It was dark.
Why hasn’t Persephone ordered the beacon lit?
* * *