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There was 。。。 something inside Scadach。 Something dark and hideously strong； something that was empty as a flame is empty； but that nevertheless had a kind of brooding life。 She could feel it； could almost hear its dreadful ruminations； even the faint part of its brooding that licked against her mind cast her into despair。 But at the same time； there was something oddly familiar about the thoughts of whatever lurked in Scadach； whatever godsbane burned so angrily in the deeps。 She felt strangely drawn； as to a darkly fascinating sibling： that horrid something。。。 was much like her。
But what could that mean？ What a mad thought！ What could there be in that gnawing； spiteful heat that was anything like her； a mortal woman； king's daughter； slain beloved of the gods now privileged to ride with them across the fields of heaven？
Maegwin stood in the snow； silent； motionless； and let the inprehensible thoughts of the thing within Scadach wash over her。 She felt its turmoil。 Hatred； that was what it felt 。。。 and something more。 A hatred of the living coupled with an agonized longing for quietude and death。
She shivered。 How could heaven be so cold； even in this black outer fringe？
But I don't long for death！ Perhaps I did when I was alive； for a time。 But now that is behind me。 Because I died…I died…and the gods lifted me up to their country。 Why should f still feel that so strongly？ I am dead。 I am no longer afraid； as I once was。 I did my duty and brought the gods to save my people…no one can say I did not。 I no longer mourn for my brother and father。 I am dead； and nothing can harm me。 I have nothing in mon with that 。。。 thing out there in the darkness； beyond those walls of heaven…stone。
A sudden thought came to her。 But where is my father？ And where is Gwythinn？ Didn't they both die heroes？ Surely the gods have lifted them up and carried them away after their deaths； just as they did me。 And surely they would have demanded to be allowed to fight here； at the side of the Masters of Heaven。 Where are they？
Maegwin stood； dumbfounded。 She shivered again。 It was wretchedly cold here。 Were the gods playing some trick on her？ Was there still some test she had yet to pass before she could be reunited with her father and brother； with her long…dead mother Penemhwye？ How could that be？
Troubled； Maegwin turned and hurried back down the slope toward the lights of the other homeless souls。
More than five hundred pikemen of Metessa stood shoulder to shoulder in the neck of the Onestrine Pass； shields lifted above their heads so that it seemed some great centipede had lodged in the narrows between the cliffs。 The baron's men wore boiled leather cuirasses and iron helms； armor that was nicked and abraded from long use。 The Crane banner of their House waved above the serried pikes。
Nabbanai bowmen along the canyon walls filled the sky with a swarm of arrows。 Most bounced harmlessly from the shield roof； but some found their way through the locked shields。 Wherever a Metessan fell； though； his fellows drew together。
'The bowmen cannot move them！〃 Sludig enthused。 〃Varellan must charge！ By the Aedon； the baron's men are proud bastards！〃 He turned to Isgrimnur with a look of glee on his face。 〃Josua has chosen his allies well！〃
The duke nodded； but could not match Sludig's excitement。 As he stood with the elite of Josua's forces； what was now being called the prince's household guard…a curious phrase Isgrimnur thought； considering the prince had no house…the duke only wanted the fighting to end。 He was tired of war。
As he stared out across the narrowing valley； he was struck by how the ridged hills on both sides resembled a cage of ribs； the Anitullean Road its breastbone。 When Prester John had fought his way through to victory in this same Frasilis Valley more than fifty years before； it was said that so many had died that the bodies were not all buried for months。 The pass and the open land to the north of the valley had been littered with bones； the sky black with carrion birds for days。
And to what purpose？ Isgrimnur wondered。 Less than a man's lifetime has passed and here we are again； making more feasts for the vultures。 Over and over and over。 I am sick with it。
He sat unfortably in the saddle； looking down the length of the pass。 Below him stood the waiting ranks of the prince's newest allies； their house banners bright in the noon sun； an aviary of Goose； Pheasant； Tern； and Grouse。 Seriddan's neighboring barons had not been slow to follow his lead： none seemed happy with Duke Benigaris； and the resurrected Camaris was difficult to ignore。
Isgrimnur was struck by the circularity of the situation。 Josua's forces were led by a man thought long…dead； and they were fighting a crucial battle in the very place where Prester John； Josua's father and Camaris' closest friend； had won his greatest triumph。 It should have been a good omen； Isgrimnur thought 。。。 but instead he felt the past reaching up to squeeze the life out of the present； as though History was some great and jealous monster thai wished to force all that followed after into unhappy mimicry。
This is no life for an old man。 The duke sighed。 Sludig； watching raptly as the battle developed； was oblivious。 To fight a war； you must believe it can acplish something。 We fight this one to save John's kingdom； or perhaps even to save all of mankind 。。。 but isn 't that what we always think？ That all wars are useless…except the one we're fighting now？
He fingered his reins。 His back was stiff； sore already； and he had not even put it to any hard work。 Kvalnir hung sheathed at his side； untouched since he had sharpened it and polished it in the sleepless hours last night。
I'm just tired； he thought。 I want Elvritshalla back。 I want to see my grandchildren。 I want to walk with my wife by the Gratuvask when the ice is breaking up。 But I can have none of those things until this damnable fighting is over。
And that is why we do it； he decided。 Because we hope it will bring us peace。 But it never； never does。。。。
Sludig cried out。 Isgrimnur looked up； startled； but his earl's shout had been one of glee。
〃Look！ Camaris and the horsemen are ing down on them！〃
When it had bee clear that bowshot would not dislodge Seriddan's Metessan shield wall from the center of the pass； Varellan of Nabban had ordered another charge by his knights。 Now that Varellan's forces had mitted themselves to pushing the prince's troops back down the valley； Camaris and Hotvig's Thrithings…men had e down from the hillroads and thrown themselves into the side of Varellan's larger force。
〃Where is Camaris？〃 Sludig said。 〃Ah！ There！ I see his helm！〃
Isgrimnur could see it； too。 The sea…dragon was little more than a flaming smear of gold from this distance； but its wearer stood tall in his stirrups； a visible circle of dismay spreading around him as the Nabbanai knights struggled to stay out of Thorn's black reach。
Prince Josua； who had been watching the battle from a point about a hundred cubits downslope from Isgrimnur and Sludig；