Cornass hoped it would only be death the big steed was to face. He knew the incantations of animating the dead well, but had little desire to invoke them now. Wise men often dealt with spirits themselves some of them dark. Some doorways were crossed by uninvited guests.
The strange faces he painted on the flesh of the fallen were often to confuse these darker spirits. The bindings were some for show but some to restrain should the wrong ones get in. The tokens, seals and coins woven into the horses mane were to pay debts unpaid in life but also to clink; chiming away the unseen.
All done Vall finally lead his guest and horse on to the east. The riders alone travelled against the great wheels the Gannith people walked. The dead man would travel to the east wall just once in his life, though it truth it was his death.
Cornass held his spear high allowing the banners to stream with the hard wind. Some marked the dark circle another was for the fallen man. The last banner that whipped furiously with the wind marked contagion.
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