‘“No disrespect, Prioress,” Aaron said softly. “But what help can you be?”
‘Charlotte threw him a disapproving glance, hefted her wheellock. “Abbot Khalid has spent a great deal of time teaching us to defend ourselves with these abominable things. But I rather think God intended we defend this empire instead. And with the Almighty’s grace, and the blessings of the Martyrs, that is precisely what we shall do.”
‘I looked among the sisters and novices, there in the falling snow. I saw fear, of course. Shaking knees and wide eyes and pinched lips. But I also saw set jaws and clenched fists and faith that the Lord God would see them through. I saw belief.
‘“We’d be blessed to count you among our company, Sisters,” I said.
‘Charlotte turned to her charges. “Those of you who can ride, fetch a saddle. The rest of you, pick a wagon. Quickly, now.”
‘The sisters and novices did as commanded, most climbing into the wagons with our stores. But a few saddled up sosyas, assisted dutifully by the brethren. I sidled up to Astrid, helping her to saddle a brave mare named River. I was aware of the folk gathered about us, keeping my voice a whisper and speaking most with my eyes.
‘“What in the Almighty’s name are you doing?”
‘“Lovely weather for a ride in the country.”
‘“This is no jest. Wasn’t it you who told me war should be left to the warriors?”
‘Astrid looked to the women about her, the boys; this pitiful band riding towards the open jaws of hell. “That’s difficult to do when the war is at your doorstep.”
‘“What happened to the blackhearted bitch who wanted only to escape these walls?”
‘“Oh, Gabe.” She smiled sadly. “If this ends the way it’s likely to, I will have.”
‘My heart was sick with fear for her. She met my stare, and I could see the memory of our night in the Library on her face, a sliver of want in her eyes that made my blood sing. But with Charlotte watching, sisters and brothers around us, I dared not give away anything of what we shared. And God knew we’d no time to argue.
‘With a sigh, I resigned myself to this desperate throw of the dice. I finished with Astrid’s saddle, climbed onto Justice’s back. Baptiste caught my eye, lacing his collar about his lips. “I pray all Seven Martyrs you’re wrong about this, Little Lion.”
‘“None pray harder than I,” I replied, pulling on my gloves. “But it’s as Greyhand said, Brother. In battle, the wise man prays to God. Yet he still raises his sword.”
‘“Greyhand also had words on the topic of heroes, if I recall,” Aaron growled.
‘I looked around our band; one tiny sliver of flame in a sea of darkness. The fear of it all was like ice in my insides. I knew we were almost certainly riding to our doom. But I also knew that if we let our fear rule us, we’d never ride at all. Someone needed to speak. And so, I gripped Justice’s reins hard to stop my hands from shaking, and standing in my stirrups, I raised my voice.
‘“I know not what awaits us at the end of this road. We will look upon the face of horror, that much is sure. But courage is the will to do what others will not. And in the arms of heaven’s host, we are invincible. I have looked into the eyes of the Dead and not flinched. I have faced down a Prince of Forever and lived. And I tell you now and true, I have never known such pride, as to ride with a company such as you.”
‘“Véris, Little Lion,” Baptiste smiled. “Véris.”
‘“Aye, fine speech.” Logan scratched his whiskers and tipped me a wink. “For a Nordish-born prettyboy sheep-fucker, like.”
‘“… Merci, good Keeper.”
‘And with that, we were away.
‘A host of barely fifty, facing an army of ten thousand. And still we rode as if towards heaven’s arms. Prioress Charlotte led the sisters in hymns as we stabbed westwards, the road bitter cold, the snows falling thick. We rode with barely enough pause for food and sleep, so cold by the time we stopped for the night that some could barely move. Tenting by the roadside, the grim shadow of the Godsend rising before us, I found myself picturing the hungry horrors amassing beyond it. Knowing every minute we rested was a minute wasted.
‘Days and days on end.
‘The Twins rose up before us as we rode into broken foothills, and I prayed the angels Sanael and Gabriel would watch over us as we slept. The wind was a blade, the air so thin it hurt to breathe. Our lead wagon broke its axle, and we forged on with only one. Two sosyas froze to death in the night, and four sisters and a brother blackthumb had to turn back, too frostbitten to ride on. I thought for certain Astrid must break, pleading silently every time I caught her eye. But she remained hunched in her saddle, shivering, hard as steel. And still we climbed, up into the pass between Blood and Fire. Higher. Colder. Bleaker.
‘A storm hit on the twelfth day, and if the sun rose, we could barely tell. The cold was so fierce that another half-dozen of our company couldn’t get ahorse, little Chloe among them. It was decided they should remain behind to direct the Golden Host if they arrived, while the rest of us pressed to the passage on foot. The way was too perilous for the wagon, and my brothers and I had to drag the barrels we’d brought with us through the grey drifts. For once in my life, I was grateful for the dark strength my father had blessed me with.
‘Night fell, and there were no hymns around the fire that eve. The thought of what might be coming over those mountains was pressing on us all now, and the snow above was so thick that none dared make a sound. My stepfather had taught me ice. He’d taught me snow. How it falls. How it kills. I knew the notion that loud noises could cause avalanches was a fiction, but who knew what was listening, out there in the dark. And so, silence.
‘We struggled on the next day, only two dozen in our company now, fighting against the frost and screaming wind. Even at noon, we were only able to see by the pale glow of our lanterns and the brief flashes of lightning immolating the peaks. But at last, towards sunset, the wind slackened, and we finally reached the pass between Fire and Blood.
‘Twin watchtowers stood tall against the storm, thrust up from the mountainside like black fingers raised to heaven. They were wrought during the Wars of the Faith, fashioned in the appearance of the angels these peaks were named for. The storm blew southerly, and the tower of Gabriel was almost entirely buried, only one dark hand outstretched from the snow piled about it. The snowpack rose up in a sheer cliff, a hundred feet deep, untold tons. So we sheltered in the lee of Sanael’s looming wings.
‘Aaron huddled beside me, collar laced high against the gale, leaning on his barrel to catch his breath. Baptiste crouched in his frozen furs, peering down into the vast valley on the other side of the pass. Prioress Charlotte stood hunched against the screaming wind with her holy sisters, Astrid among them. That she’d made it so far spoke of a strength in Sisternovice Rennier I’d never dreamed of.
‘At first, we saw nothing. Even as the lightning crashed, illuminating the expanses of grey snow on the Talhost side of the peak, there was no movement. The slope below was a vast plane of frost and swallowed trees, packed hard by the wind and piled impossibly deep, impossibly heavy – no army of men could cross a divide that treacherous without freezing to death or setting off an avalanche.