11
Adelaida stood on a shelf of rock overlooking the downslope of the road down from the Pass of Ardovían to the valley that eventually led to Vasyllia. Most of the valley was shrouded in wispy clouds and dust kicked up by booted feet, but every once in a while, green swards dotted with bushy trees appeared, framed by cotton-wisps of cloud, and when the sun shone out from behind cloud cover, here and there diamonds sparkled: small lakes and a snake-river of deep blue.
Adelaida felt like she was overlooking a waterfall, with warriors instead of water flowing down the hillside. Next to her, half-seated, half-reclining in something that looked like a movable hammock, was Derzhava. They were the only still objects in a swarm of movement and noise and dust that choked her every time she tried
