As the men chose sparring partners Amelia came over and stood by Rogan, looking worriedly at the strange mixture of young and old men fighting in the makeshift arena. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said.
"He does," said Marcus Toscan, the flaxen-haired soldier Rogan had met in this very storehouse. The Halrana swordsman looked at Rogan but spoke to Amelia. "I've never met anyone like him."
Rogan harrumphed. The few months he'd known Marcus had been long enough for the young soldier to idolise him. Having young Tapel following him around was bad enough. "Are you sure we're safe here?"
"We're safe," Marcus said. "It's a good plan."
With the population of Ralanast and its surrounding areas starving and disease rampant throughout the conquered land, Amelia had come up with a surprisingly cunning strategy for the small army they were building.
The men of Halaran were dying.
The friends of the resistance conducted mock funerals, burying empty boxes in the earth and donning the black of mourning. Inventing causes of death was a simple matter; in fact, the women said it gave them a sense of relief to know their fathers, husbands and sons were being kept hidden, far from the watchful gaze of the occupiers.
The deserted storehouses in Ralanast's once great cargo district provided the perfect refuge and training ground. The buildings were large enough for many men to sleep, eat, and fight, and the district was a warren of buildings and alleys that only a Halrana could find his way through. The Black Army never bothered to patrol.
That only left the question of supplies — food, water, clothing, and weapons. Once again, Amelia proved herself, finding a way to solve two problems simultaneously. The wives, daughters, mothers and sisters of course wanted to visit their men, but if too many came too often or all at once, it could spell catastrophe. Amelia put out the word that with the cemeteries full, the dearly departed would have to follow a certain route out of the city via the cargo district. If the mourning parties were made up of all women, and the box on its carriage was full of potatoes, well, he was a big man wasn't he?
As the network of the resistance grew in size, and hope began to return to the citizens of Ralanast, Rogan's thoughts again turned to the prison camp, just a half day's journey from the city. He knew thousands of Alturans and Halrana were being kept there, and that the Halrana would be fearful of fighting if they had loved ones in the camp.
Rogan knew the prison camp was the first place they needed to free.
There would be men in the camp who would fight, adding to their numbers, but the effect on his men's morale would be even greater. Knowing the prisoners were free and seeing their fellows rise up against their occupiers would cause even the most jaded Halrana to join the fight.
"It's time to send word to Sarostar," Rogan said.
"Are we ready?" Marcus asked.
"We're not ready," Amelia frowned. "Even I can see that."
"No, we're not ready," Rogan said. "In three months, perhaps four, we'll be ready, but it's now time to plan. I'm going to tell the Lord Marshal in Altura, and you can tell your Prince Tiesto, Marcus. It's presently the middle of spring. We'll be ready at the end of summer."
"The end of summer. So long?"
"I don't know what support we can count on from Altura, but it will take them months to fight their way here even if they are able to. The end of summer, Marcus."
Marcus hesitated but then nodded. "I'll tell Prince Tiesto."
"I need to get home," Amelia said. She paused, as if about to say something, but didn't. Instead she quickly leaned forward and kissed Rogan on the cheek. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow," she said.
Rogan watched her go, a startled expression on his face. Amelia left the storehouse, closing the wooden door behind her.
"What was that?" Rogan said to Marcus.
Marcus laughed; it was a big hearty sound that poured from his chest. "There's no better man to lead this resistance," he said. "But when it comes to women, you're as big a fool as the rest of us."
23
"I FEEL like I have my skin back," Shani said, grinning.
"I know exactly what you mean," Ella said, surprised at the amount of pleasure she felt to once again be wearing her green silk dress.
"Does your enchantress's dress protect you from the heat?"
"Certainly does. I'll warrant you're feeling better."
Shani looked happier than Ella had seen her in weeks. "Compared to baking under the sun, it's like being inside a shadow. Anything that can protect me from a fireball can certainly deal with this."
Ella looked at Jehral, who led the way, riding slightly ahead of them, the near-black coat of his horse shining with sweat. Unlike his two companions, Jehral had no magical protection from the intense heat, yet he seemed completely at ease in his desert garb.