Page 123 of Given to the Black King

Blue Gull.

Red Pikes.

Split Sun.

White Horse.

Below the pass mouth, Torgan’s line forms three ranks deep.

It looks too small.

I know the rest are hidden under moor cloaks along the slopes. Knowing does not make the open ground less empty.

Ghenn’s second, Marrek, stands at my right.

Two shield guards stand behind us. Vess is somewhere above. I have not seen her since dawn.

“White cloth,” Marrek says.

A rider moves beneath the Blue Gull banner.

The strip tied to his spear is small at this distance, but bright against the dark men.

He rides to the front of his company.

Osk sends two men toward him.

The gull captain does not wait.

His banner turns east.

The entire company follows.

Nearly eight hundred hired spears march out of Osk’s line with their weapons shouldered.

The sound on the wall is not a cheer. Nobody trusts the field enough for that yet.

I unroll the black pennant.

“Not yet,” Marrek says.

“I know.”

The Red Pikes remain still.

Osk’s messengers ride between the companies. One reaches the pike captain. They argue. The captain points to the withdrawing gulls, then holds up one of our copied notes.

The messenger reaches for it.

The captain knocks him from the saddle.

White cloth rises.

The Red Pikes turn.

“Now,” Marrek says.

I raise the black pennant.