The Flaming Battlefield

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If Patrick thought being stuck inside a castle during a snowstorm was bad, being stuck on a ship for two weeks is only marginally better, if only because it's a new experience and he's surrounded by new things. Still, the newness wears off near the end of the second week and all he's left with is dread for the days to come.

Once they get closer to the Castle of the Moon, Clementine clouds the fleet in an icy mist that allows the army to get on land without being noticed. The problem is the castle itself is a series of tall spires up on a mountain, which makes every closer advance visible. There's no way to get to the castle until her army is dealt with. The good news is her army is scattered across Vaenyth.

And then there's the dragons.

At first, as they trudge the day's walk closer to the castle, there's absolutely no sign of anyone. The thick forest is eerily quiet aside from the consistent thud and crunch of footsteps until a soldier from up ahead shouts, "Look!"

Everyone pauses and it goes dead silent.

Patrick looks up, just barely catching a glimpse of silver passing through the cracks between the treetops. The branches quiver with the force of wingwind and anxiety permeates the air.

"It's just looking," Clementine assures, urging everyone to keep moving. "Don't waste your time worrying about it."

They walk until near sunset, at which point they stop to pitch tents and prepare for tomorrow. The tents will give away their location if Morwenna isn't already aware of their presence. Patrick thinks she must be, and he voices this to Isla, who confidently states that Morwenna will be hesitant to burn her own land.

The open area around the Castle of the Moon is limited to the tiny grassland surrounding the base of the mountain. There's enough room for a few hundred men (maybe a third of the collective armies) and it would be cramped to all hell in battle. Fighting would have to go on in the woods. This works partially in their favor- using even one dragon would be a risk, and if Seamus is to be believed, only one is a threat.

Patrick has trouble getting to sleep that night, but he's not alone in this. He wakes up exhausted, but a couple sips of Ewan's whisky fixes him up all right enough. Early that morning, Clementine walks by herself up the great stone stairway that spirals up to the castle. Her going alone is stress inducing, but she's safer that way.

The wait for her to return is excruciating. Her soldiers are fit to start attacking, while Rozenn's are almost ready to book it for the ships. Isla doesn't seem worried in the slightest and that's Patrick's only consolation.

"They wouldn't dare hurt her," Isla proclaims.

Patrick's not so sure of this. He knows Morwenna wouldn't have a problem with killing Clementine, but the thought of the prissy queen brandishing an iron sword is enough to elicit a chuckle.

Without Alexei, Isla is the only one Clementine trusts to keep things in order until she returns. Isla goes around and boosts morale in a decidedly invigorating yet scary fashion, while multitasking and helping Tove and Aodhan, ready to order soldiers around if need be.

There isn't much anyone can do but wait after another hour passes. Brynjar whittles a seal and drinks get passed around. Patrick sits in the quiet with Tove and Aodhan. He doodles animals in the dirt with a stick to pass the time, which turns into a game of guess the animal.

Once Clementine returns, temporary relief washes over the camp until she nods at Ewan and says, "Ewan, get the archers ready. Erikur, send your troop back to meet the one Morwenna summoned from Dusken. We'll finish things today."

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