Casket of Souls

keep that in mind with the next one.”
    Thero and Micum returned to the inn to find Seregil asleep on the couch and Kari pacing the sitting room carpet. Elsbet was asleep beside Illia. The little girl had been tucked into bed in one of Seregil’s nightshirts.
    “Did you find the boy?” Kari asked.
    “He’s alive!” Micum said, going to her. “Thero saved him.”
    She rested her head on his shoulder as his arms went around her. “Thank the Maker!”
    “And Illia?”
    “Still the same.”
    Thero went to her and took her hand in his. “We
will
save her, Kari. Even if it costs me my own life, I swear to you, we’ll save Illia.”

 
    F ROM where she sat her horse in the front ranks that morning, Beka could see Klia just down the line, conferring with the queen and the other officers of her army. Phoria’s gold-chased breastplate and helm glinted in the light, and her tabard was the color of flame. Between that and the great white Skalan stallion she rode, you didn’t need the royal standard to find her in battle. Klia said something to her half sister and Phoria laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. Everyone was in good spirits today. Or almost everyone; down the line Beka could see Danos, grim and haggard as he sat his mount. In recent battles and skirmishes he’d been bold, but not foolish, yet it was clear the disgrace of his family and his severed relationship with Princess Elani weighed heavily on him.
    The cold autumn wind off the Inner Sea made the myriad army standards snap on their poles, their varied colors bright against the blue Plenimaran sky. Black-headed gulls sailed overhead, mingling their shrill cries with the hiss of the wind through miles of long dry grass. Before Phoria’s massed army, the rolling hills of the Plenimaran frontier stretched into the distance, becoming foothills and then the jagged mountain ridges of the peninsula that connected Plenimar to the mainland. Between the Skalan army and the crucial pass there, what was left of the Overlord’s army stood in full array.
    In less than three months since Klia’s troop had captured the vital ford, Phoria and her combined regiments andwarships had made a concentrated push, decimating the Plenimarans, and driving them back to their own doorstep.
    Looking south, Beka could make out Plenimaran warships far out at sea, trying to stop a flotilla of Skala’s navy from making landfall. From this distance they looked like toys in a great tub.
    There was movement in the rank behind her. Nyal emerged from the press and reined in his bay beside hers. His dark hair flowed loose beneath his scarred helmet, and Aurënfaie chain mail glittered above the front of his corselet.
    “It’s a good day to fight, and good ground,” he remarked.
    “It is.”
    Their eyes met briefly, conveying all that they could not say here.
    “A damn good day!” Sergeant Rylin exclaimed just down the row.
    Others started to cheer, but Beka held up her hand for silence.
    The Overlord left his lines and rode forward with a phalanx of officers under a flag of parlay. Phoria’s standard-bearer raised another and the queen galloped out with Klia and her guard to speak with him.
    “This is it!” someone said among the ranks. “He’s got to capitulate now! We’ve got ’em!”
    An excited murmur spread out from there, but Beka kept her eye on the queen. Klia had spent hours with the other officers in Phoria’s tent last night, and come away tight-lipped and silent.
    The queen and the Plenimaran Overlord spoke for some time, small figures at this distance deciding whether or not any more blood was to be spilled.
    They parted at last and each group rode back to their own lines. Klia rode back to Beka and Nyal, while Phoria remained out in front of the line.
    Turning to face her army, Phoria addressed them in a ringing battlefield voice.
    “My Skalan brothers and sisters, the Overlord has refused to surrender, despite our greater numbers. This—” She swept a gauntleted hand dismissively at the not inconsiderablePlenimaran line. “This ragged company is all that stands between us and Benshâl—between us and total victory!”
    A great cheer rippled back through the ranks. The queen’s words were passed back over shoulders.
    Phoria held up her hand again and silence fell. “You’ve all fought brilliantly this summer. Thanks to your valor, we have come farther than any Skalan army since the days of your great-grandparents. I ask you now to go farther