Bane shook his head. ‘Does it not seem strange to you that the act of protecting that way of life is altering it beyond recognition? Citizens of Stone pay taxes. The Keltoi never did. The Rigante, Pannone and Norvii crossed the water centuries ago to find a land where there would be no kings. They thrived as free peoples. There were no armies. When enemies threatened every man took up arms to defend the land. There were no tax gatherers, no clerics, and a few simple laws. What freedoms do we have now? If I was to hold this conversation in Three Streams I would be arrested as a malcontent.’
‘Without the unity forged by Connavar this entire land would be under the godless rule of Stone,’ said Banouin.
‘As it probably will be one day anyway,’ said Bane.
‘Not as long as Connavar lives.’
‘Then may he live long,’ said Bane.
The two men lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The snow began again, heavy and fast, large flakes spluttering on the campfire. Bane lifted his hood back into place, and leaned back against the fallen stone. Banouin fed the fire, and occasionally glanced back at the silent battle. It was nearing its end. He nudged Bane, who came instantly awake. ‘Give me your hand,’ he said, lying down next to Bane.
‘Why?’
‘If you are to help me with the ghosts, you must be as a ghost. Give me your hand and I will draw your spirit from your body.’
Bane did so, and felt a cold rush of air sweep over him, as if he had dived into a winter lake. He shuddered, and rose to stand naked alongside the spirit of Banouin.
‘How do you wish to be clothed?’ asked Banouin, who was apparently wearing a pure white druid’s robe.
‘Can it be anything?’ asked Bane.
‘Anything.’
‘Then dress me as a Stone officer, with gilded breastplate and helm.’ Even as he spoke he felt the armour settle upon him, a bronze reinforced kilt appeared around his waist, and two bronze greaves nestled against his calves.
‘Where is the sword?’ asked Bane.
‘You think you’ll need one?’ countered Banouin.
The two ghostly armies began to form on opposite hilltops as Bane and Banouin strode out across the Field. Bane glanced down. His booted feet made no marks upon the snow, and he could feel no hint of the winter winds. The two spirits made their way towards the silent Stone ranks, which shimmered in the moonlight. Bane stared in wonder at the soldiers before him. They seemed to have been carved from mist, translucent in the moonlight. The sounds of faraway commands came to them.
‘Panther Three form up. Rank Seven at the beat!’
A drum sounded, its slow ponderous beat echoing across the field. Bane saw the troops shuffling into formation in ranks of seven. He and Banouin continued to walk up the hill. The spirits of the Stone soldiers ignored them, continuing their battle preparations.
As Bane came within thirty feet of the first line he halted. Then he cried out in a loud voice: ‘Appius, where are you?’
Now the spirits noticed him, and he felt their cold stares upon him. ‘Appius!’ he called again. Then: ‘Oranus, where are you? Speak to me, Oranus!’
The first line parted and an officer stepped from it. He was tall and handsome, his breastplate intricately engraved, as were his greaves, helm and wrist guards.
‘It is Valanus,’ whispered Banouin.
‘Appius!’ yelled Bane again.
‘Who are you?’ demanded the officer, coming closer, sword in hand.
‘I am Bane, son of Connavar the King.’
‘Nonsense! I know Connavar. He is a young man, little older than you.’
‘Appius!’ shouted Bane.
‘He is not here!’ snarled Valanus. ‘Now tell me what you want and why you are dressed in the armour of Stone. Speak or I will cut you down.’
‘Why is Appius not here?’ demanded Bane. ‘Is this not Cogden Field? Is Appius not your second in command?’
Valanus stood very still, confusion in his face. ‘He is gone,’ he said at last.
‘Gone?’ echoed Bane. ‘How can he be gone? The battle is not yet started.’