Page 101 of Fang & Fury

Was it an omen?

A few white-robed counsellors exchanged uneasy looks.

A cluster of brightly robed figures stood at the foot of the steps: enforcers, sacrificers, bards, seers, and counselors. There were more of them than Ailsa had expected. Lara had been busy over the past few years; a small army of druids would follow her north.

“We follow the highway into The Borderlands,” Lara went on, ignoring the murmurs. “And then we take the Western Road. Somewhere along it, we will make our stand.” She paused then, her hands flexing at her sides. “This won’t be an easy victory. We fight a force of a similar size, but the man who leads them has been abusing earth magic. The men and women you will face are faster and stronger than you expect … bound to Niall of Braewall.” She halted then, her features tightening. “I will not call that traitor a ‘king’ … given the chance, he will put my head on a pike and yoke every one of you.”

She paused then, dragging in a deep breath. “I wish I could promise you’ll all survive this, that you’ll return home to your husbands and wives, to your children … but I can’t lie about the risk you’re all taking. You all know what’s at stake here though. If we fail, Duncrag will burn … and a tyrant will become High King.” Her chin lifted. “We can’t let him. We must hold fast.”

“Hold fast!”

The shout echoed from the crowd in return, the noise shaking the stone broch and the surrounding ramparts and lifting high into the dark sky.

Warmth rolled over Ailsa.

Lara’s words set something alight in her veins.

She was ready to ride.

It took longer than Ailsa had anticipated for the army to mobilize.

A force this size had to do so in stages, for only a certain number could fit on The Thoroughfare at a time, and the bulk of its strength lay waiting outside the walls.

However, eventually, she perched behind Darach upon Rùn’s back, and they clip-clopped down The Thoroughfare.

Kayla rode to their left upon Thicket, seated proudly in the saddle.

The folk of Duncrag had come out to see them off. A crowd of men, women, and children gathered at the roadside.

It was late winter, so there were no rose petals to throw, as was often customary when warriors went off to war. Instead, women sang to them, while others called out well-wishes.

A smile tugged at Ailsa’s lips.

It was strange. She’d never felt so much a part of something. Nor so aware that there was no turning back. Ever since she’d first glimpsed the struggle in those warriors’ eyes back at Craeg Aonaranach, she’d sworn she’d help them. The Circines were still in Niall’s thrall, but not for much longer. The sooner they brought that bastard down, the better.

A child perched upon her father’s shoulders waved at her then.

An old woman called a blessing, her quavery voice rising above the din of the excited crowd.

A lass pushed forward and pressed something into Kayla’s hand. The tattooist’s eyes widened as she looked down at the small object.

“What is it?” Ailsa asked as they moved on.

Kayla flashed her a smile and looped something over her neck: a small iron axe. “A protection charm.”

The sun was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds when Darach urged Rùn up the side of the column.

They’d been traveling from Duncrag for nearly two days and had just turned east.

For the most part, he and Ailsa had ridden in the midst of the army, but this afternoon, the queen had sent a rider back to fetch him.

She wished to have a word.

As usual, Ailsa sat behind him. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. They could have spared a horse for her; nonetheless, he liked to have her with him. The firm press of her body against his back was reassuring. The clasp of her arms around his waist grounded him. This way, they could also talk as they traveled. And they had.

“I wonder what Lara wants,” Darach murmured as Rùn cantered over the rough ground at the road’s edge.

“Maybe Alar has returned.”