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The bone drums began at sundown.
Yrene stood on the highest parapet of the
keep, counting the torches sprawling into the
night, and fought to keep her dinner down.
It was no different from the other meals
she’d eaten today, she told herself. The meals
she had struggled to consume without
gagging.
The parapet was filled with soldiers and
onlookers alike, all gazing toward the army at
the border of the plain that separated them
from the city’s edge, all listening in hushed
silence to the relentless drumming.
A steady, horrible beat. Meant to unnerve,
to break one’s will.
She knew they’d continue all night.
Deprive them of rest, make them dread the
dawn.
The keep was as full as it could stand,
hallways crammed with bedrolls. She and