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307 pages, Paperback
First published November 16, 2017
Under the paling stars before dawn, Prince Bifalt and the squad in which he served gathered on an escarpment overlooking the valley where the battle would take place. There they settled themselves to wait for their captain’s final instructions. A few years ago, they had been uncomfortable around the Prince; but he was a veteran now, one of them. Resting while they could, they sat or squatted some distance from the rest of the Bellegerin cavalry and the pickets of waiting horses. Elgart tossed a stone from hand to hand, apparently studying how it rose and fell. Klamath wiped his palms in the dirt to rub away sweat. Camwish, the squad’s horse-master, who fancied himself its entertainer as well, had nothing to say. In the night’s chill, the breathing of the clustered men made faint plumes that gathered around their heads like the dimmest of halos.
Whetting his saber, the Prince considered the task ahead of them. This squad was essential to Belleger’s tactics now, and to their homeland’s hopes for survival. If they succeeded, they might enable an eventual victory. They would ride with the rest of the King’s army, yes, and throw themselves headlong against Amika’s forces; but their purpose was their own. They had been chosen for it in secret, trained in secret, equipped in secret: twenty-one men including their captain and the Prince, King Abbator’s eldest son. In the battle, they would learn whether they were the last desperation of their people or the first bright promise. (pp. 3-4, this edition)