The regent lost count of the minutes that passed. His legs grew numb, his buttocks sore, from sitting hunched before his chamber door. He felt dead inside, empty; it kept the fear at bay. His ears strained to follow the tides of the battle beyond the castle walls, but he could not distinguish the barbarian’s victorious cries from those of his own men. The only thought that kept him from hysterics was the belief, however erroneous, that his heart would know if Tovin fell. Amery was sure of it. If his knight died, the color would drain from the world around him and his soul would weep. Until that happened, Tovin must still be alive.
Through the door behind him, he heard shouts and ringing footsteps, the clash of arms, a rallying battle cry. “For Pharr!”
Were the guards getting antsy, pin
