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Felicity slowed as we closed on Puck, now picking his way up a rocky trail on a wooded hillside that seemed made of some kind of chalk or white sedimentary stone. My cloak settled back into a deep red drape that I adjusted to spill over one side of the horse at Darling’s indignant squawk. I let Felicity find her own way through the white stones, Larch falling behind to trail her. Ferns covered the shaded ground under thick trees reminiscent of an Alaskan forest landscape. I thought I could smell the hot prick of needle litter, but that was likely my imagination constructing something of home.
We emerged from the tunnel of shade, white stones and green ferns, up over a last lip of rock, into a vast dome of startling blue. Puck sat his horse, grinning at me, sweeping his arms out as if he’d created the spot just for me.
“The Promontory of Magic!” he declared.
No trees stood on the windswept top, as big around as a basketball court, the white rock showing through in many places, with the mossy grass only clinging to dips and hollows. The deep-green fringe of the forest canopy stopped short of the plateau, making for a spectacular 360-degree view. In a Victorian novel, the cast of characters would have taken carriages up here to have a picnic.
Darling leaped down to explore, armor clinking. Larch followed, picking his way across like a mountain goat.
On the plain below, I could see our army. Armies. Rivers of people from several directions, all heading around the bend of the ridge line. The next watershed over was filled with another army, an angry, seething sea.
“The enemy,” Puck pointed out to me.
“Who are they?” I asked, studying the shifting mass. From this distance I could make out little detail.
“Barbarians,” Puck intoned.
“Aren’t they always?” I returned, but Puck only nodded agreement.
“Isn’t this perfect? Lord Falcon agreed to have the first battle here, so we could use this spot as the Promontory of Magic. We plan to have the first clash of infantry in that charming meadow there.” Puck pointed to a spot roughly between the leading edges of the two armies.
“And so I shall leave you.” Puck wheeled his horse around back toward the path. With great bounds, Darling ran after him and leaped up onto the back of Puck’s saddle.
“Wait!”
He stopped, looking impatient. “What, Lady Gwynn? I must away—the battle commences!”
“You’re leaving me here alone? What do I do?”
Puck sighed. “We’ve been over this. What you’re told, remember?”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “Yes, yes, yes, I know—”yada yada yada, “—but how do I know what that is? Remember that I don’t just know along with you!”
“We’ll send messages,” Puck said, speaking clearly so the dummy could understand. “Victory to you!” he called over his shoulder.
Darling didn’t even say goodbye.
“And also with you,” I grumbled. I looked around. “I thought there’d be more flags.”
Under that acid blue sky I amused only myself.
Chapter 19
In Which I Am Covered in Glory and Other Obnoxious Fluids
‡
Pages were handycreatures to have around, especially because they were the ones who remembered to bring refreshments to war.
Larch had stowed a picnic worthy of a Victorian novel in Felicity’s saddlebags, unbeknownst to me. My new lifestyle as a pampered lady. I’d have giddily ridden up here and spent the day with nothing to eat and nothing to do except chase my horse to keep her from taking off to be with the other horses in the valley below.
Instead, Larch had efficiently hobbled her and set her to grazing so I could wander around the promontory, trying to look officially occupied. I picked out an observation spot where I could watch the slow progress of the two forces as they wound their way to the charming meadow.
I was a character inThe Thin Red Lineafter all, bored and running a dull internal monologue. I’d had to watch the damn movie three times, Clive liked it so much. He thought it a great movie because it showed how monotonous much of war was. Anyone who could make Christian Slater boring had certainly accomplished something, but I was thinking it wasn’t a great thing.
To occupy myself with something besides mentally reviewing every war movie I’d ever seen, and the fewer war books I’d read—most of which were sword and sorcery and not nonfiction, anyway—I mulled over what magics I’d perform, given the leeway. If I wasn’t to do anything until the battle was nearly lost, this was going to be a long day. How long did battles take anyway? Long, grueling hours, by all accounts.
Left to me, I’d rather have tried to divert the enemy forces before they reached the charming meadow and prevent the battle altogether.
