Chapter 10: The Grey Field

Gerta's knee went quiet at the first grey furrow.

Naho knew it because Gerta stopped walking in the middle of the road.

She stood with the pack on her back and one hand flat against her thigh.

"Nothing," Gerta said. "It's saying nothing."

"Is that bad?"

"Eleven seasons, it's never said nothing. There's always weather somewhere."

She lifted her head and looked north, where the road ran into a country with no color in it.

"There's no weather in that," she said.

The Gloam started as a straight line across the earth.

On one side the barley was gold and the hedges were green.

On the other the stalks stood in rows, the same flat shade as the sky.

Nothing moved over there, and nothing made a sound.

Naho had expected a fog, something with a surface.

It was only an absence, and she could feel it from where she stood.

Brant drew his sword with a flourish that was meant to be seen, and ordered the column to march into the field in order.

They went in four abreast, with the banners up.

At first the banners stayed red.

Then the red went out of them, one thread at a time, and the banners hung grey.

The soldiers' tabards went next.

The little painted picture of the Chosen on each flag lost its cheeks first.

By the third furrow the soldiers' boots were no longer brown.

"Louder," Brant called, though he was not louder.

The sound was going.

It went out of the column in layers: the clink of chain first, then the ox bells, then the boots.

Brant's voice went last, until his mouth was making shapes with nothing coming after.

He turned and waved his sword for a charge.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Summoned to Carry His Bags, She Found Thank-Yous Beat His Sword from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.