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Andry thought of Ghald, chaotic in its preparation for war. Iona was the same, like a tick swelled up with blood. Ready to burst.
Worst of all things was the sky.
The rain passed, leaving white clouds across the empty blue. But every morning, the sun rose a bit redder, a bit weaker. A haze settled over the valley, threatening to choke them all. It felt like looking at the sun through smoke, or the shimmering air of high summer in a sweltering city.
Andry watched as dawn crept over the eastern mountains, the Monadhstoirm like a wall.
“It looked like this in Ascal.”
Dom towered beside him, frowning at the sky.
Despite his Elder nature, Dom looked terrible. Even washed, his hair freshly combed and braided, his blond beard trimmed, a new cloak over his shoulder, and fine leather armor beneath, he wore exhaustion plainly, his face drawn, his complexion gray, the green spark gone from his eyes.
While the Monarch of Iona remained deep in her halls, unseen by the rest of the city, Dom took up the mantle of leadership she cast aside. He was as Andry first remembered him to be. Duty-bound, stoic, and distant.
Like Andry, he walked the walls, both a guardian and a ghost.
“They are close,” Dom murmured.
“Good that the Sirandels arrived yesterday,” Andry said, thinking of the grand procession of Elders. Another hundred of them entered the city gates, together with wagons loaded with food and weaponry. “Will other enclaves send help?”
The Sirandels were not the only immortals joining Iona. A small force had arrived from Tirakrion a week prior, tiny in number, but better than nothing. They were golden-skinned, bronzed by centuries on their island, hidden among the warm waters of the Long Sea. Though they were more suited to sailing, they were warriors all.
“I cannot say. Many of my people are half the realm away. And even immortals cannot fly,” Dom answered. Then he cursed under his breath.
Andry well knew the object of Dom’s frustration. “It is not your fault.”
The Elder ignored him. “If I had come sooner—if I was here, I could have swayed Isibel. There would have been more time. We could have rallied the realm, all the enclaves—”
“You escaped the dungeons of Ascal,” Andry said forcefully, cutting him off. He put a hand to the Elder’s broad shoulder. “You survived to be here, now. That is enough, Dom.”
“It must be enough,” Dom murmured, his green eyes still murky with frustration.
Much as he shared the sentiment, Andry knew they could not dwell on what they could not change. He turned back to the landscape, his jaw tightening.
“Is the ditch finished?” he asked, changing the subject. “And the stakes?”
“As much as will be,” Dom replied.
Andry clenched his jaw. The Elders had made quick work of digging out a long ditch on either side of the city ridge, with sharpened tree trunks jutting out. It would force Erida’s army to funnel, reducing their advantage in the assault on the city gates. But it was too late to dig around the entire city, leaving the higher cliffs vulnerable.
“Ten thousand soldiers of Ibal and Kasa. Cavalry, infantry, archers,elephants,” Dom muttered, rattling off their forces. “And a city of Elders behind them.”
A formidable army, to be sure. But nothing compared to the onslaught marching toward them. Andry winced to himself.We will have to eat the horses before long.
Though it was only morning, Andry’s eyes burned with exhaustion. While he spent his days studying the battlefield or training in the yard, meetings consumed his evenings. Between the Elders and the mortal commanders, along with Sorasa and Garion’s input, they had some semblance of a strategy. Much of it Andry’s own suggestion.
“With any luck,” Andry said, “we can turn back the first wave. Then the real trouble begins.”
Siege.
He shuddered to think of it, locked up like a rat in a trap. Doomed to spend his final days starving, watching Erida and Taristan from afar.
Dom looked just as uneasy. “It is not the city we hope to save, but Corayne.”
“Corayne,” Andry echoed. Their plans for her were far more detailed. “Half of me wishes we had more time.”
The Elder gave him a stern look. “And the rest?”
