CHAPTER 1AGAINST THE NIGHT
Into the great central plains of Sarkovy there moved a mighty host of armed men. Foot soldiers trudged through the long grasses, pikes aslant over their shoulders, torsos clad in leather jerkins now stained with road-dust. Officers in rich cloaks of maroon, canary, cobalt blue, went cantering by on their shaggy, horned ponies. In the rear, lumbering bouphonts dragged heavily laden wains filled with wargear, baggage and tenting.
At the head of the legion rode its commander, the great Duke, a bold, laughing, huge golden bear of a man in gilt byrnie and burnished cuirass, his plumed helm doffed so that the breeze combed through his thick blond curls. Near his position rode two strangers, obviously newcomers to the host. There was a lean, dark man in black leather,
