deadfalls and scarred with rocky outcroppings.
Wanting to escape the sentries’ notice, Derkh had avoided all paths out of the settlement when he left, planning simply to head north toward the foothills. An hour out of Stonewater, he had already lost all sense of direction, blundering through a land that seemed to pitch always at some violent angle, never running level. At first his own determination kept him from turning back. Soon, he didn’t know where “back” was.
He stopped now, arming the sweat from his forehead, and looked around. Pointless, he thought. Can’t see more than three paces in any direction in this ill-begotten swamp. He was surrounded by trees, mainly spruce and cedar, each with a circle of dead lower limbs thrust out like pike-poles. He had learned last night to walk with his arms held up to protect his head after catching one of these in the temple. Awkward, especially when he took a misstep and fell, but better than being blinded.
The trees glowered and pressed upon him. Never thought I’d miss those freezing plateau winds, he thought bleakly, picturing the sweeping vistas and open sky of his homeland.
Easing down on a log and rummaging in his pack for food, Derkh let his mind rest along with his body. The whispery voice of panic that had muttered to him in the dark was silent now.
Panic is fear run wild.
Col’s powerful voice leapt into his head.
Kill it, or it will kill you.
His father had certainly given him many chances to learn to overcome fear, Derkh reflected. Maybe those bitter lessons would save his life, after all. He closed his eyes while he chewed, tried to believe Col’s claim that a few moments’ rest were as good as a night’s sleep.
He knew what he had to do. He had to find a footpath—there must be some; after all, the Elves did travel this county—or at least a rivercourse, to follow. Otherwise he would never find his way anywhere.
He craned his neck, trying to sense the steepest slope. He wanted to get as high as he could, somewhere with a view so he could look for a break in the foliage that might indicate a passable route. It was a long shot, he knew. He might climb many weary slopes without ever finding what he sought. But it was his only shot, so he picked a direction, ignored the protests of his wrenched muscles and started climbing.
A T G ABRIELLE’S INSISTENCE , Derkh had not been questioned about the Greffaire plans, but on the march home he had overheard Tristan speculating and offered one opinion. “I doubt they’ll try again this season,” he told Gabrielle. “That was our entire invasion force. They would have to empty the internal security service to rebuild an army that size quickly. They lost a lot of equipmenttoo. I’d say if the emperor wants to continue the invasion, they’ll have to recruit and outfit a whole new force.”
“Your internal security service is the size of an army?” said Gabrielle, incredulous. She wondered if she had misunderstood Derkh’s accented words.
“We have a lot of internal security,” Derkh had replied flatly.
D ERKH’S GUESS HAD been accurate, as far as it went. But he could not have predicted the true state of affairs in Greffier.
The total defeat of the Greffaire army was met with black rage by the emperor. No one could explain how such a disaster had occurred. Of the few soldiers who straggled back, starving and exhausted, some raved with wild tales of ghost attacks, arrows raining from the sky and fell warriors materializing from the very air. Those who talked sense acknowledged there were none but Human foes, but still seemed confused about the actual course of events. They could not explain, for example, how the buffering front lines of conscripts had melted away, leaving the professional soldiers to bear the brunt of the fighting.
Only one fact was clear to the emperor, and he seized upon it: Col had had the advantage, and he had lost it. He had not pursued the retreating army immediately, and
Wanting to escape the sentries’ notice, Derkh had avoided all paths out of the settlement when he left, planning simply to head north toward the foothills. An hour out of Stonewater, he had already lost all sense of direction, blundering through a land that seemed to pitch always at some violent angle, never running level. At first his own determination kept him from turning back. Soon, he didn’t know where “back” was.
He stopped now, arming the sweat from his forehead, and looked around. Pointless, he thought. Can’t see more than three paces in any direction in this ill-begotten swamp. He was surrounded by trees, mainly spruce and cedar, each with a circle of dead lower limbs thrust out like pike-poles. He had learned last night to walk with his arms held up to protect his head after catching one of these in the temple. Awkward, especially when he took a misstep and fell, but better than being blinded.
The trees glowered and pressed upon him. Never thought I’d miss those freezing plateau winds, he thought bleakly, picturing the sweeping vistas and open sky of his homeland.
Easing down on a log and rummaging in his pack for food, Derkh let his mind rest along with his body. The whispery voice of panic that had muttered to him in the dark was silent now.
Panic is fear run wild.
Col’s powerful voice leapt into his head.
Kill it, or it will kill you.
His father had certainly given him many chances to learn to overcome fear, Derkh reflected. Maybe those bitter lessons would save his life, after all. He closed his eyes while he chewed, tried to believe Col’s claim that a few moments’ rest were as good as a night’s sleep.
He knew what he had to do. He had to find a footpath—there must be some; after all, the Elves did travel this county—or at least a rivercourse, to follow. Otherwise he would never find his way anywhere.
He craned his neck, trying to sense the steepest slope. He wanted to get as high as he could, somewhere with a view so he could look for a break in the foliage that might indicate a passable route. It was a long shot, he knew. He might climb many weary slopes without ever finding what he sought. But it was his only shot, so he picked a direction, ignored the protests of his wrenched muscles and started climbing.
A T G ABRIELLE’S INSISTENCE , Derkh had not been questioned about the Greffaire plans, but on the march home he had overheard Tristan speculating and offered one opinion. “I doubt they’ll try again this season,” he told Gabrielle. “That was our entire invasion force. They would have to empty the internal security service to rebuild an army that size quickly. They lost a lot of equipmenttoo. I’d say if the emperor wants to continue the invasion, they’ll have to recruit and outfit a whole new force.”
“Your internal security service is the size of an army?” said Gabrielle, incredulous. She wondered if she had misunderstood Derkh’s accented words.
“We have a lot of internal security,” Derkh had replied flatly.
D ERKH’S GUESS HAD been accurate, as far as it went. But he could not have predicted the true state of affairs in Greffier.
The total defeat of the Greffaire army was met with black rage by the emperor. No one could explain how such a disaster had occurred. Of the few soldiers who straggled back, starving and exhausted, some raved with wild tales of ghost attacks, arrows raining from the sky and fell warriors materializing from the very air. Those who talked sense acknowledged there were none but Human foes, but still seemed confused about the actual course of events. They could not explain, for example, how the buffering front lines of conscripts had melted away, leaving the professional soldiers to bear the brunt of the fighting.
Only one fact was clear to the emperor, and he seized upon it: Col had had the advantage, and he had lost it. He had not pursued the retreating army immediately, and
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