Early the next morning, the Crystal Palace thronged with activity as plans were made for the journey east. The open ground outside the palace became trodden with hooves and soldier’s boots; the officers and quartermasters huddled together making plans for food, shelter, and travel routes.
Miro watched as two groups began to form. They’d decided to split their forces. The Hazarans were by far the fastest and would ride for the Gap of Garl and Aynar. If Stonewater was fallen by the time they arrived—and that was likely, for the journey was long—then the Hazarans would harass and slow the enemy, delaying them until the second, slower force could make it across Halaran and through the Azure Plains to Seranthia. This second force, comprised of Tingarans, Louans, Halrana, Alturans, and Veznans, would hopefully reach Seranthia in time to boost the city’s weakened defenses. Wherever he was, Sentar Scythran would be eager to reach the Sentinel.
“You know what you must do?” Killian appeared uncomfortable addressing the kalif of the Hazarans.
“Yes, Emperor. We will do our utmost to delay them until your arrival in Seranthia.”
“I thank you, Kalif. The whole of the Empire is counting on you.”
Ilathor nodded to Killian before walking over to speak with Jehral and a young Hazaran woman, finally mounting up on their waiting horses without another word.
Killian’s face was white, and Miro could only imagine what he must be thinking. It wasn’t a long journey from Stonewater to Seranthia, and they’d all seen how difficult it was to slow this particular enemy. Killian had traveled through the portal to the wasted land of Shar. He knew what would happen to Merralya if Sentar claimed victory against the Empire and brought his brother Evermen home.
Miro heard the rising clatter of approaching hooves, and men drew out of the way as a figure on horseback rode up. Miro was relieved when he saw Ella, her face set in a familiar mask of determination, but he could see that underneath she was having difficulty holding the mask in place.
Ella wore her green silk dress and held the reins of a second horse in her left hand. She looked ready to travel, with packed saddlebags and a knapsack on her shoulder.
“Ella,” Miro said, walking up to stand beside her horse. “What are you doing?”
“The Hazarans will need help if they’re going to delay Sentar’s army for as long as we need them to. I’m lighter than any of the desert men, and I can ride faster, particularly if I change horses. The Akari will have seen Altura’s signal, and Ada, Dain Barden’s daughter, promised me she would convince her father to come. Their army should now be somewhere between Rosarva and Ralanast. I’m going to find the Akari, wherever they are, and divert them to Aynar so they can help the kalif and his men.”
As Ella spoke, Miro saw Killian looking up at her with incredible intensity. By contrast, Ella avoided meeting Killian’s gaze altogether, keeping her green eyes firmly on Miro.
Miro hesitated. “It’s a good idea. But not on your own, Ella. Please—take someone with you.”
“No one can ride as fast as I can,” Ella said stubbornly.
“That’s not true,” a female voice said.
Turning to see who it was, Miro grinned as Shani stepped forward. “I can ride just as well as you can, and Bartolo’s healing fine. I’m coming with you.”
Ella opened her mouth and then closed it again, before smiling. “All right. You can come. Provided you can keep up.”
“I’ll have you know . . .” Shani began.
“All right,” Miro forestalled her. “Three groups. Ella and Shani will try to find the Dain’s forces and divert the Akari. The Hazarans will do what they can to slow the revenants. The rest of us will make all speed to Tingara. We know Sentar’s eventual goal is Seranthia. We can’t afford long good-byes, but our hopes go with all of you.”
41
Time passed, days turning to weeks and the warmth of spring shifting to the long days and hot nights of summer. Across the Empire, fields ripened and careworn farmers prepared for the harvest; young birds grew to take their first flight; and men marched day and night, everyone heading east, always east.
With summer came scents, some sweet and filling the senses with delight, others rancid and repellent.
In Altura, with the last of the revenants incinerated, the scent of smoke and burning flesh finally came to be replaced with the fresh fragrance of summer flowers. A new odor wafted throughout Sarostar’s western quarter: the smell of wood shavings and fresh mortar. Soon, with time, the free cities Castlemere and Schalberg would see the same transformation.
As always, in the icy north there was no smell at all. But with the army of Akari warriors heading south, the summer heat would begin to take its toll. The Dain’s necromancers were busy.
In Petrya’s north the Hazaran riders’ noses were filled with dust and dung; with their horses traveling night and day there was little else to fill the senses.