"But for ourselves . . . it seems to me that if a man should die, he should feel it, and feeling it, should until his last breath know it! Not pour out his life's blood like mawkish tears shed for the sake of spite over the unfairness of life, or surrendering without reserve to the inevitability of death that comes to us all, however untimely! Or have we lost the will to fight for our very existence? Has the knowledge of our ultimate failure doomed all chance of our finding the resolve even to save ourselves?"
The bleeding stanched, he considered his shaven visage in the mirror a moment.
"Barely visible to the eye, and yet it feels to me as though I carry a great wound for all to see, as though I bear the fate of Lund and the Four Kingdoms upon my face! What choice have I now, but to bear this reminder that we are all marked for death?"
A gust of wind caught his attention, then, and even as he watched, the tiny white flower of a creeper that grew on the Tower high above, was borne upon the breeze through the open window, and landed upon the blood-stained water.
The first army to issue forth was that led by Akaru. It was the largest single army, numbering ten thousands. They were three thousands on horse, and seven on foot. They marched east out of Lund, over the bridge spanning the East Grey, to the wall that sealed off the Valley of Baruk, and down the wooden rampway to the valley below. They then began their journey east towards the end of the valley. Their purpose was to wage a battle of attrition, staging a series of slow retreats back