As she rode towards the head of her forces, Tavore could see the dust cloud from the approaching army, and it was vast. Wheeling her horse, she walked the animal on a course parallel to the presented ranks, slowing the beast's steps enough to move her gaze from one face to the next in the front line.
When the Adjunct finally spoke, her voice carried firm on the wind. "Does anyone know you? You, who stood in the shadows of the heavies and the marines. Who are you? What is your tale? So many have seen you -- marching past. Seen you, standing silent and unknown. Even now, your faces are almost lost beneath the rims of your helms." She was silent for a long moment, her eyes tracking each and every visage.
And then she halted, gaze fixing upon one man. A Falari. "Corporal Grid Ffan, Third Squad, Eleventh Company. Bonehunter. You carried Sample -- the soldier on your left -- on your back. The last day in the desert. And, before the Blood for Water, the only thing that kept you -- and her -- alive was your love for her."
The man seemed to sway before her words. She nudged her horse forward. "Where stands Wreck-Eye?"
"Here!" cried out a voice from a dozen ranks back.
"When Lostara Yil lost consciousness protecting my life on the day of the Nah'ruk, you led your squad to recover us. Myself. Henar Vygulf. Captain Yil. You lost a brother, and to this day you can find no tears for him. But be at ease. There are those in your squad who have wept in your stead. At night, when you sleep."
She walked her horse forward a few more steps, found another face. "Sergeant Ordinary Grey. When Sergeant Gaunt-Eye's squad of marines broke and tried to murder him, you and Could Howl held them all off -- you cut them down to save Gaunt-Eye. Because once, long ago on the Holy Desert of Raraku, he showed kindness to you."
She reached the end of the ranks, turned her mount round and began retracing her route. "Who are you? I know who you are. What have you done? You have stayed with me since the very beginning. Soldiers, hear me! This day is already lost to history, and all that happens here shall remain for ever unknown. On this day, you are unwitnessed.
"Except for the soldier to either side of you. They shall witness. And I tell you this, those soldiers to either side of you, they are all that matters. The historians' scrolls have no time for soldiers like you -- I know, for I have read hundreds of them. They yield a handful of words to speak of defeat or victory. Perhaps, if so warranted, they will make mention of great valour, extraordinary courage, but the weight of those words is no more and no less than those used to speak of slaughter and murder. Because, as we all know, one soldier can be hero and villain both.
"We have no place in their histories. So few do. They are not us -- they were never us, and we shall never be them.
"You are the Unwitnessed, but I have seen what you see. I have felt what you feel. And I am as much a stranger to history as any of you."
The Adjunct reined in again, at the very centre, and swung her horse round to face the silent troops. "On the day of the Nah'ruk, they stood for you. Today, here, you shall stand for them. And I shall stand with you, my beloved soldiers." She held up a gauntleted hand. "Say nothing. We are walls of silence, you and me. We are perfect reflections of the one we face, and we have faced each other for so long now.
"And the meaning of that silence is none of the enemy's business."
Behind her she could feel the tramp of thousands of boots reverberating up from the ground, but she would not turn, would not face the enemy. Her eyes belonged only to her soldiers, and, she could see, theirs belonged in turn to her and her alone.
"Bonehunters. Yield only in death on this day."
When she rode to take her position on the south flank, Fist Blistig watched her, his eyes following her as did the gazes of every soldier round him.
Gods below. What kind of rousing speech was that? Salvage it, Fist -- before it's too late. He swung round. "For'ard ranks! Dr--"
But he got no further. Weapons snapped out of sheaths and scabbards, shields lifting on to shoulders.
And in the faces around him he saw the coldest iron he had ever seen.
