And then he must act.
Thirty-Four
The two men lay peering over the edge of a low, crumbling wall,
looking down a sharp slope at the garrison below. Row after row of
long, low buildings met their eyes. Behind the barracks, to the
watchers' left, were the stables for the horses; in front of them, the
night watch stood talking or drinking coffee before a blazing fire.
Two sentinels paced back and forth between cornering guardhouses, with
the pickets of the mounted patrols just beyond.
It was now full night. The rising moon was exactly halved, with long
bars of smoky cloud passing at intervals across it. The resulting
twilight was neither pale nor pitch, but a sporadic intermingling of
both. Whether moonlight or deepest shadow fell across the creatures of
earth, seemed entirely a matter of chance.
Neither help nor hindrance, Michael thought. But he expected no more.
Thus far their journey had gone without incident, though the real
difficulty and danger lay ahead. Yet the largest part of what he
fought in that moment was not fear, but a fatigue that bordered on
despair.
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