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Josua shrugged。 〃Who knows？ Perhaps he underestimated us。 Remember also that Benigaris does not rule alone in Nabban。〃
Isgrimnur grunted。 〃Poor Leobardis。 What did he do to deserve such a wife and son？〃
〃Again； who knows？ But perhaps there is some end that we cannot see to all this。〃
The duke shrugged。
The prince was watching the flow of the battle critically； eyes shadowed in the depths of his helm。 He had drawn Naidel； which lay across his saddle and knee。 〃Almost time；〃 he said。 〃Almost time。〃
〃They are still many more than us； Josua。〃 Isgrimnur pulled Kvalnir from its sheath。 There remained a momentary pleasure in this： the blade had stood him well in many a contest； witnessed by the fact that he was still here； still alive； with aching back and chafing armor and doubts and all。
〃But we have Camaris…and you； old friend。〃 Josua grinned tightly。 〃We can ask for no better odds。〃 His gaze had not left the neck of the pass。 〃May Usires the Ransomer preserve us。〃 The prince solemnly made the sign of the Tree on his breast； then lifted his hand。 Naidel caught the sunlight； and for a moment Isgrimnur found it hard to breathe。 〃To me； men！〃 Josua cried。
A horn sounded on the slopes above him。 From the narrows of the pass； Cellian blared back an answer。
As the prince's troops and the rebel barons and their men charged up the road； Isgrimnur could not help marveling。 They had bee a real army at last； several thousand strong。 When he remembered how it had begun； Josua and a dozen other bedraggled survivors slipping out of Naglimund through a back door； he felt heartened。 Surely God the Merciful could not bring them so far only to dash their hopes！
The Metessans had held firm。 Josua and his army swirled around and past them； the pikemen； freed from their deadly chore； dragged their wounded back down the road。 The prince's forces flung themselves on Varellan's knights； whose superior numbers and heavy armor had been overwhelming even the ferocity of Camaris and the Thrithings…men。
Isgrimnur held back at first； lending aid where he could； but unwilling to throw himself into the thick； where lives seemed to be measured in instants。 He spotted one of Hotvig's men unhorsed； standing over his dying steed and warding off the pike of a mounted knight。 Isgrimnur rode forward； bellowing a challenge； when the Nabbanai knight heard him and turned； the Thrithings…man leapt forward and shoved his sword in beneath the man's arm where there was no shielding metal on his leather coat。 As the knight toppled； bleeding； Isgrimnur felt a twitch of fury at his ally's dishonorable tactic； but when the rescued man shouted his thanks and legged down the slope； back into the heart of the struggle； the duke did not know any longer what to think。 Should the Thrithings…man have died to preserve the lie that war could be honorable？ But did another man deserve death because he believed that lie？
Slowly； as the afternoon turned； Isgrimnur found himself drawn deeper into the bloody conflict； slaying one man and driving several others back； bloodily wounded。 He sustained only minor hurts himself； but only because luck was with him。 He had stumbled once； and his opponent's swinging two…handed sword blow had glanced off the top of his helm； had he not fallen； it would likely have separated head from neck。 Isgrimnur fought with none of his old battle rage； but fear brought out a strength he had forgotten he had。 It was like the ghant nest all over again： everywhere he turned there were hard…shelled things that wanted to kill him。
Upslope； Josua and his knights had pushed Varellan's force back almost to the outer lip of the pass。 Surely； thought Isgrimnur； some of those who fought in the front line must be able to see the broad valley below； green in the sunlight…except that to look at anything except the man in front of you and his weapon was to court swift death。
The knights of Nabban bent； but did not give。 If they had made a mistake in trying to push their earlier advantage； they would make no mistake now。 Whatever Prince Josua wanted； it was clear that he and his army would have to take it with their own hands。
As the sun began to dip down toward the horizon； Isgrimnur momentarily found himself in a backwater of the fighting； a spot in which the struggle had ended for a time； all around the bodies of murdered men lay sprawled like the leavings of a receding tide。
Just down the hill Isgrimnur saw a gleam of gold： it was Camaris。 The duke watched him in amazement。 Hours since the battle had begun； and although his movements seemed a little slower； still the old knight fought on with undiminished purpose。 Camaris sat upright in his saddle； his movements as regular and unexcited as those of a fanner at work in his field。 The battle horn swung at his side。 Thorn whistled through the air like a black scythe； and where it touched； headless bodies fell like harvested wheat。
He's not as fierce as he ever was； Isgrimnur marveled； he's fiercer。 He fights like a damned soul。 What is in that man's head？ What gnaws at his heart？
Isgrimnur suddenly felt shame that he stood watching as Camaris； twenty years his senior； fought and bled。 The most important battle； perhaps； that had ever been fought； and it still hung in the balance； unclaimed。 He was needed。 Old and tired of war he might be； but he was still an experienced blade。
He lightly dug his spurs into his mount's side； heading toward the place where Sir Camaris now kept three foot soldiers at bay。 It was a spot blocked from view by a web of low trees。 Even though he had little doubt that Camaris could hold out until others reached him； it might be some while before they spotted him 。。 。 and in any case； Camaris in the saddle was an inspiration to the rest of Josua's troops that would be a shame to waste behind concealing shrubbery。
Before he had gone more than a dozen cubits； Isgrimnur saw an arrow suddenly sprout from his horse's chest； just before his leg； the horse reared； shrilling with agony。 Isgrimnur felt a burning pain in his own side； then a moment later he was tumbling free of his saddle。 The ground rose up and hit him like a club。 His horse； struggling for balance on the rocky slope； wavered above him with front legs flailing； then its shadow descended。
The last thing Isgrimnur saw and felt was a tremendous concussion of light； as though the sun had dropped from the sky to land on top of him。
14
Empires of Dust
It was maddening。 Simon was parched； his mouth dry as bone dust； and all around him echoed the sound of dripping water。。。 but there was no water to be found。 It was as though some demon had looked into his thoughts； then plucked out his fondest desire and turned it into a cruel trick。
He stopped； peering into the darkness。 The tunnel had widened； but still led downward； and there had been no place to turn； no crossing corridors。 Whatever made that dripping was now behind him； as though he had passed it somehow in the featureless shadows。
But that can't be！ The sound was before me； and now it's behind me…but it was never beside me。 Simon fought to keep down his fear； which felt like a living thing inside him； all tiny clicking scales and scrabbling claws。
He might be lost beneath the ground； he told himself； but he was not dead。 He had been trapped in tunnels like these before and had e out into the sun again。 And now he was older； he had seen things that few others had seen。 Somehow； he would survive。 And if he didn't？ Then he would face the end without shame。
Brave words； mooncalf； an inner voice mocked him。 Brave words now。 But when a sunless day and a moonless night pass with no water？ When the torch burns out？
Be quiet； he told the inner voice。
〃King John went down the darksome hole；〃 Simon sang quietly。 His throat hurt； but he was growing tired of the monotony of his bootheels clumping against the stone。 Not to mention the miserable； lonely way the sound made him feel。
〃To seek the fiery beast below；
Through caveish haunt of toad and troll；
Where none but he had dared to go 。。。〃
Simon frowned。 If only this were the haunt of trolls。 He would have given anything for Binabik's panionship…not to mention a skin full of water followed by a healthy swallow of kangkang。 And if Prester John had brought nothing but a sword down into the earth…which he hadn't； e to think of it： wasn't that what the Hernystirman Eolair had e to Sesuad'ra to tell them？ That John had found Minneyar somewhere down in the ground？…then what had he done for light？ Simon had one torch； and its flame was beginning to look a little thin around the edges。 It was all very well to go thumping and bumping about looking for dragons； but the songs never said much about food and water and trying to make fires。
Old cradle songs and missing swords and tunnels in the dark； fetid earth。 How had his life ever e to revolve around such things？ When Simon had prayed for knightly adventures； he had hoped for more noble things…battlefields and gleamingly polished armor； deeds of bravery； the love of the multitudes。 He had