(11)

The next morning Saurus made his way outside, the cold crisp air slapped a cold hand across his face. It woke him up and Saurus felt all the better for it. Hadwin was mounted up, his two wolf brothers by his side, Saurus approached him and gently patted the neck of his horse.

“Inform me when you have news,” Saurus said. “By the time you reach Leeside I should be marching back.”

Hadwin looked down at his Lord Commander and extended a hand, Saurus took it and gave it a hard squeeze. Something stirred in his guts and for a fleeting moment, Saurus thought he would never see this man again.

“That I will, my Lord. Be sure to give the spider queen a kiss from me.”

Saurus smiled, “Be careful my friend.” He said Earnestly.

Hadwin returned and smile and pulled at his reins—turning to leave. Saurus watched in silence as his bear rode away, his two wolves riding beside him.

‘May the God’s bless your travel.’

They were in a swift march before noon arrived, the sun behind them kissed gently at the back of their necks as they marched. The air surrounding the soldiers felt tense and stale like Saurus had expected. When a soldier knew he was but two days from facing possible death, it was hard to think of anything else. Captain Tookean had set his men to chanting with the beat of their marching footfalls, this bolstered some of the soldiers for a time.

Before the day was spent, a gentle downpour had blown in and fine droplets of rain sprayed down from above. Alaric, who was riding close to his father today, began to cast magic. Saurus glanced up when the soft rainfall ceased to dampen the roof of his head. Covering him he saw the faintest of shimmers. The magical barrier Alaric had created didn’t seem to strain his son in the slightest and covered the entire mounted troop. It would not stop an arrow or a spear from penetrating the barrier, but it did shield the mounted knights from the rain. Some of the other knights looked up too when they stopped hearing the patter of rain hitting their steel armour. The rain ran down the surface of the magical barrier and streamed over the edges like a mushroom cap.

Alaric smirked, impressed with his own work. The smirk turned to wonder when he saw his father’s reaction.

“What’s wrong father?” he asked.

“Drop it, son,” Saurus said looking up at the barrier, then looking over his shoulder at the column of foot soldiers marching and still getting wet.

Alaric dropped the spell without objection, letting the rain patter down against all the mounted men once more. Some knights turned to Saurus in confusion, others understood already.

“If you want the men behind you to fight for you, perhaps even die for you,” he said, calmly bouncing in his saddle. “Don’t treat them as anything less than your equal.”

Alaric turned to look at the men like his father: the soldiers were marching with their head down, no doubt an attempt to keep the rain from their faces. Those that did look up wore solemn faces, some scared. Alaric returned to silent admission, and the army marched on.

The army camped under a pale silken cloud that stretched end to end, revealing no starlight. Only the two moons had the power to emit their presence behind that thick curtain of cloud. That night Saurus was relieved when Hadwin’s wolf scouts rode to meet the column. For every three that went to scout Wetbrook, only one returned. Saurus had never seen such losses among the wolf brothers, and his first thought was of Hadwin’s reaction when he found out how many did not return.

Each wolf sang the same song as the first. Wetbrook was now as the talk concluded: A spider’s lair. Saurus paused while one of the wolf scouts (the filth to say the same thing), informed him of the enemy’s numbers:

“I believe many of the Spider Queen’s forces are inside Wetbrook, my Lord,” the scout said, his wolf pelt drenched from the rain. “The walls are tall and still intact.” He added reluctantly. Saurus ground his teeth together. It was not the first time he had had to storm the walls of some stronghold, but he prayed for the small mercy. He hoped the Spider Queen would have had to break the walls of Wetbrook to take it. Apparently, walls might be as useful as a paper shield against an army of spiderlings.

“One last thing, my Lord,” the scout said, this time his head was so low that it seemed to Saurus he was speaking to the pelt, not him.

“Look at me and say it true,” Saurus said. He felt his jaw clench at the prospect of more bad news.

“We went to Whitegull Harbour to collect the Sphene Dust…The harbour was empty. A single drydocked ship was washed up,” the scout stared at Saurus with dead eyes. “A ghost ship, my Lord.”

After Saurus had heard from the scouts, he told them all to get some rest and food. Within the hour the soldiers erected their tents and Saurus feasted in his pavilion, Alaric awfully quiet beside him. A single bite of food seemed enough to make him feel sick. Even being so close to battle Saurus’ stomach had never felt more knotted. Alaric seemed to be a victim of the same dilemma as he nibbled tentatively.

Saurus knew the news regarding the Sphene Dust shook his son. A Magus without a healthy supply of Sphene Dust was like an archer without a full quiver of arrows.

“How much Sphene Dust have you got?” he asked his son, trying to take another bite of food. Alaric looked up to give his father one of his warmest smiles.

“Enough father.”

Saurus didn’t believe him.