Free Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) by James A. Hillebrecht

quarters charge. But there is a power in you, a power that can bend all this to your will. I know it is you who shall lead the charge when the time is come.”
    Darius looked closely and asked, “And you?”
    “Any sturdy spear will skewer goblins, and I’ll take my rightful score,” Eldoran replied. “Never fear of that. But even if I win through to the Black Titan, I am not sure I have the strength and skill to strike true, and I would not dishonor such a weapon with a glancing blow. You, I think, will not waste that one chance.”
    A slow, grim smile answered him, and Darius said, “Of that, I can make you a promise.”
    “One thing only I would ask in exchange,” the older man said, his eyes and voice suddenly earnest. “Stand by young Boltran, if I should fall. He shall have need of a champion when this battle is joined.”
    “That promise I cannot make,” Darius answered with a shake of his head. “My work is with the Juggernaut, and no other bond may hold me. Yet this much I will say: I shall ride to battle beside the young Duke, and if my strength does not fail, I shall end the battle there as well.”
    Eldoran nodded slowly, hearing the truth. “My hand on it then.”
    Darius shook with one hand as he held the gleaming lance with the other.
    *
    Two hours after dawn, Darius was riding Andros near the front of a long column of cavalry, the walls of the Drift having already vanished behind the rolling hills. Behind them on either side, the Mountains of the Winds still loomed, the gap between them marking where the Drift stood, and before them was the wide endless expanse of rolling hills that would soon flatten into the Plains of Alencia.
    On either side of the road marched the Maganhall infantry which had set out from the Drift two hours before dawn, for it was their pace which would determine the distance the army traveled each day. The cavalry was riding in line of four abreast, the preferred order of march for heavy horse, and Darius could make out even the food carts and supply wagons of the baggage train keeping up bravely in the wake of the infantry. It was astonishing that the force of the Southlands had been gathered so quickly, but Darius reminded himself the armies had begun to mobilize the moment the Red Feather had been sent forth. It was the traditional response to the threat of invasion. Even as their lords had met at the Council to debate their deployment, the forces of the Southlands had closed on the Drift as if it were already besieged.
    The Maganhall force was in good marching order, as was only to be expected of what was widely regarded as the premier army of the Southlands, but the contingents from the other principalities were showing good form as well for having covered many scores of leagues in barely a week. The soldiers seemed to be in good spirits as they sallied forth in the bright morning sunshine, but Darius thought he detected a note of weariness in them, warriors accustomed to practice battles who normally ended a hard day with a hot meal and a long night’s sleep. This is a new experience for most of them, Darius realized. May Mirna give them the strength to meet the challenge.
    A few yards away, young Duke Boltran was wrestling with many issues other than his own force. A dozen figures in the uniform of the other six principalities were gathered around Boltran and competing for his attention.
    “My Lord, Duke Georg-Mahl reports the infantry of Gemsbrook has cut across our line of march. Hathage traditionally holds the third position in line of battle, and My Lord Duke requests you remind the Lady Clarissa that she is to maintain her proper position.”
    “My Lord, Norealm carries water for only five days. Duke Thrandar asks if any of the other forces can spare water, particularly for our cavalry.”
    “My Lord, the Lady Clarissa asks if you and the other Dukes will dine with her tonight. And we would not have cut across Hathage’s line of march if they hadn’t been