The mountain valley was almost silent.
Far behind them, the four allied columns were moving through their separate routes, but here in the forward cut of the northern frontier, the only sound was the soft sigh of the freezing wind through the pines.
Huge Zaira lay coiled in a sheltered hollow between two gray granite ridges. Her armored body formed a natural wall against the mountain breeze, and her breaths rose into the freezing air like thick plumes of white steam.
Standing on her broad, armored brow, Sagiri looked out across the wide land of Glacial Lanka.
He had opened a long leather map against the hard curve of Zaira's brow scales, pinning its corners down with four smooth river stones so the wind would not carry it away. In his right hand, Sagiri held a piece of dark charcoal.
His crimson and silver eyes studied the landscape ahead.
