Cobweb Forest (Cobweb Bride Trilogy) by Vera Nazarian Page B

“Especially since the Sovereign and the Trovadii are well on their way deep into Lethe by now. One would expect Solemnis to be done here quickly then hurry to rendezvous with the Trovadii, coming together from the west and east at some point, but where?”
    “Likely, Letheburg, where Hoarfrost sits,” replied Bruno Melograno, one of the garrison officers in their company.
    “Yes, but why? Why Letheburg? It is incomprehensible to me. Why drive past the most attractive prize of the Realm that happens to be the Imperial Seat at Silver Court and cast away the opportunity to take the Emperor, and instead enter the northern wilderness?”
    “Maybe the Sovereign wants to surround the Realm along its outer perimeter and cut us off from all our foreign borders?” Bruno Melograno pointed at the line of the camped enemy army across the river. “Even now, see how they choose to stay on the other side of Styx? There is no solid tactical advantage to it, since the added distance of the river makes artillery close to useless, except for the heaviest cannons. Their catapults will likely have the required reach to hit the walls and beyond, but other projectiles will fall short, miss all targets and likely drown in the river itself. If I were their commanding officer, I would cross Styx and camp on the eastern shore, closer to our walls. This way they still have plenty of safe distance between our artillery and their men, but at least they will have better chances of breaching us.”
    “Agreed,” said Duke Andre Eldon. “So what is their reasoning? What are they waiting for? An invitation?”
    King Augustus Ixion took a deep steadying breath and his boyish voice revealed only a slight tremor. “If they think to frighten me and my city simply by their extended presence, they will not succeed.”
    “No, Your Majesty, indeed they will not. But generally speaking, it is a good thing to be somewhat frightened—just a tad, just enough to be on alert. . . . Nothing wrong with a healthy dose of awareness of reality, and the resulting caution,” the Duke replied in a steady matter-of-fact voice, as he continued to observe through the eyepiece of the slender brass telescope tube. “As long as fear is then transformed into useful actions.”
    “Do you think,” the youth said, “that they will attack today?”
    “Anything is possible. Your garrison is as ready as it can be, and My Liege and I are both at your service. I will personally stand at your side when it happens.”
    Augustus turned his pale blotchy face with its acne-blemished skin and bright blue eyes at the older man. Then he glanced at the other officers surrounding him. “I thank you, Your Grace, and all of you who are here. I am ready for them,” he said bravely.
    In that moment as the young King spoke, something unusual was taking place beyond the city walls of Charonne.
    The nature of the sky itself seemed to change. But it was not the normal gradual brightening from blackness to pallor and a consequent fadeout of the stars.  . . . Instead, the twilight seemed to pause momentarily, suspended for a few long moments in a perfect in-between state—while the stars hung fixed in the rich navy velvet of the heavenly zenith, almost black in the highest spot. And then the light at their back—coming from the east, from the direction of the city interior and beyond it, began to fade again—as though something had reversed the dawn itself.
    As they looked out over the parapet walls at the western countryside and at the expanse of the faintly glittering river, at the same time, directly behind them, coming from the opposite direction, night was returning . . . .
    No, it was not possible. It could not be.
    The reversal happened quickly—far swifter than had been the normal blooming of dawn. In about ten breaths, there was an in-rushing of darkness, as first the heavens directly overhead became the same rich black they had been half an hour ago, and then the edges