Mask of Dragons by Jonathan Moeller Page B

perfect wife for a lord like Mazael Cravenlock. 
    “My lords,” said Romaria, “I visited Skuldar a long time ago, and passed its borders and returned.” 
    Talchar grunted. “Truly? Why?” 
    Romaria shrugged. “I was curious and bored. Attend to the map, my lords.” She pointed at the map spread out upon the table. It showed many details of the Grim Marches and the Stormvales and the Krago Hills, but little of Skuldar save for the position of the mountains. “The Weaver’s Pass cuts through the mountains of Skuldari and leads to the Krago Hills, though none save the Skuldari have passed that road in many years. Armalast is located at the foot of the mountains halfway through the pass. Five or six days’ journey for men on foot, and maybe eight or nine days for an army moving with discipline.” 
    Talchar grunted again. “I suppose the Pass offers many locations for an ambush?”
    “Innumerable,” said Romaria. “But we have excellent scouts, and the Tervingi skythains can spot any Skuldari ambushes long before they become a threat. The walls of Armalast shall be a harder target. They’re old, very old, and look as if giants built them.” 
    “We can besiege them,” said Mazael, “though it will be a challenge.”
    “What of dark magic?” said another knight. “The soliphages cast spells, and the Prophetess was a sorceress of power.”
    “Our court wizards are with us,” said Mazael, “and after the Malrags and the runedead, they are accustomed to fighting alongside each other. Furthermore, the Guardian of the Tervingi will march with us, and the Prophetess’s spells are no match for him.”
    “The Prophetess is dangerous,” said Adalar. His voice was quiet, but he held the attention of the nobles and knights nonetheless. “But she is not as dangerous as someone like Lucan Mandragon or Caraster of Mastaria. She fled from the Guardian at Greatheart Keep, and I wounded her with a crossbow before she escaped. I am a knight, not a wizard or a sorcerer of great power, and I still managed to wound her.” He shook his head. “I suppose if my aim had been a few inches better, this war would have ended then and there.” 
    “You saved my life,” said Sigaldra. “The Prophetess would have slain me, had you not shot her.” 
    Again he met her gaze, and again that strange pulse of disquieting emotion went through her. By the ashes of her ancestors, what was wrong with her? Perhaps the strain of the last few weeks had caught up to her. 
    “We shall continue Lord Adalar’s good work. Our task will be simple enough,” said Mazael. “As soon as the rest of the host of the Grim Marches gathers, we shall march into the Weaver’s Pass. We’ll hold and secure the pass, and then make our way to Armalast and put it to siege. Along the way we will attack any villages we find, and take their cattle and provender for our own. The Skuldari have decided to make war upon the Grim Marches, so we shall make sure they feel the hard hand of war. Once we’ve reached Armalast, we will starve it out or take it by storm if an opportunity presents itself. This brigand Basracus thinks to call himself the High King of Skuldar, so let us see if he can defend Skuldar. My lords and headmen, prepare yourselves to march. I want to set off for Armalast within three days.” 
    The men began filing out of the tent, and Sigaldra felt a cold, grim certainty settle over her. 
    She was going to get Liane back. It didn’t matter that Liane was in the fortress walls of Armalast. Sigaldra was going to get Liane back, no matter what she had to do. 
    No matter how many men had to die.
    She watched the lords leave the pavilion and realized that she was willing to sacrifice every single one of them to save her sister. 
    Sigaldra might not be able to live with herself afterward, but she was willing to do it.

Chapter 4: Marazadra
     
    Mazael didn’t do anything useful for the rest of the day, but his time was occupied