The fields of flowers were awash with blood. Crimson mixed with the violet and green fields in a grotesque picture that might be the imaginings of an artist’s brush. Bodies were dragged into piles. There were neat mounds of limbs, torsos, and whole bodies piled one atop the other. The sigil of Stormweather Keep was emblazoned on much of the armor but the enemy dead outnumbered the Stormweathers. Feran shuddered at the volume of bodies he had killed. Men who were suffering but still alive found the ...