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“We go down the valley now? Attack humans on the plains?” Bloodgutter asked, pointing toward the low country. Though the bridge was gone, the stream was not terribly deep, and it was clear the ogres would be able to wade the flowage and complete their crossing of the Garnet range. Once on those plains, as Ankhar had promised, they would be able to go anywhere they wanted.

The half-giant blinked. Yes, that had been his plan. And that plan had worked very well, except for the unexpected obstacle in their path of the newly sprouted town. Even the dwarf town had barely slowed up their advance-the whole attack had taken only a couple of hours-though the celebration threatened to take all night.

In the morning, as planned, they ought to just march away and leave those dwarves hiding in their holes.

“No,” Ankhar decided grimly. “Not right away.”

“Stay here what for?” replied the ogre bull.

The half-giant pointed at the mine entrances. “We go up there where dwarves hide. We kill them.”

“What if stay in holes?” inquired the ogre, thinking it over.

“Then we bury them. Let the mines be their graves,” Ankhar replied, satisfied that, one way or another, his mother would be avenged.

Leaving the more heavily equipped Crown Army in its wake, the Palanthian Legion made a forced march of seventy-five miles in a little more than two days. That was a splendid accomplishment by any measure. Even so, they were two dozen miles away from the feet of the Garnet range when they came upon a lone dwarf, battered and bloody, staggering toward them across the plain.

“New Compound is lost, Excellency!” the dwarf declared, falling on the ground even as Jaymes, leading the legion, rode forward.

“How?” he demanded. “Was it Ankhar?”

“Yes-and a horde of ogres. They came down from the heights, surrounded the town, and sacked it.”

“The dwarves? Did they flee?” asked the emperor, appalled by the news.

“No, lord. The bridge was destroyed, and they were trapped. Many were killed, but the survivors and women and children took shelter in the mines.”

“And what then?”

“I confess, I fled the place, my lord. I was responsible for carrying away the news. But before I left, I saw the ogres head up there, to the mines. They climbed over the mouths, and started to fill them with rubble. They threw in great boulders, hundreds of them. It looked like each of the tunnels was being completely sealed.”

Buried alive. Jaymes felt a shiver of claustrophobic dread. “How long ago was this?”

“Two days ago they attacked. I slipped out of there the dawn before this day.”

“Then Ankhar may still be up there? In the mountains?”

“I believe so, Excellency.”

The emperor looked to the south. From where he sat his horse, the crests of the Garnet Range stood out in clear relief. The mouth to the valley of New Compound remained out of sight, but he knew it was somewhere out there, not far, in the misty lowlands.

“General Weaver,” he called out.

“Yes, my lord,” replied the commander of the Palanthian Legion, urging his horse out ahead of the rest of the column, which had halted.

“The half-giant and his ogres are still up in the valley of New Compound, distracted by a clash with dwarves. Their options of escape are limited. We might be able to trap them there.”

“I understand, Excellency. What are your orders?”

“Send riders to General Dayr of the Crowns, and General Rankin of the Swords. Have them bring up their armies as quickly as possible.”

“Certainly, sir. You realize, it will be several days before either of them arrive on the scene.”

“Yes, I do. That’s why my legion will take the lead. We’re going to march into that valley, pin the ogres in the mountains, and destroy that monster and his followers once and for all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ARAPS AND PRISONERS

Blayne moved quietly down the dark street. It was his fourth visit to the legion’s headquarters, and he felt every bit as nervous and furtive as the first time. But he had no trouble identifying the door, opening it, and slipping inside. And after entering, at least, he wasn’t manhandled by the guards. Instead, they waved him through, and he found Sir Ballard in the usual meeting hall, waiting with a full complement of fifty or sixty men of his secret legion.

Clearly they were beginning to trust the nobleman from Vingaard; never before had Blayne seen more than a dozen legionnaires there. They made room for him at the head table, one man even bringing him a mug of cold ale. He nodded at a few he recognized.

The friendliness was not universal. Across the table sat a dark-skinned knight he had never seen before, and Blayne was surprised at the suspicion and hostility he noted in the man’s black eyes.

“Wet your whistle,” Ballard said encouragingly. “We’ve got a lot of planning to do.” Noticing that Blayne was staring at the dark-skinned knight, Ballard chuckled. “Sir Jorde,” he said, gesturing to the dark-skinned man. “I’d like you to meet Lord Blayne Kerrigan, now the rightful master of Vingaard Keep.”

“Hello,” Blayne said as pleasantly as he could. Jorde replied with a slow, deliberate nod.

Gratefully, Blayne took a drink as Ballard, who seemed to be in command of that unit of the Legion of Steel, explained.

“There are two more companies in the city, each awaiting word from me that it is time to move,” the knight said. “The legion is ready to retake our city and restore rule based on the Oath and the Measure. But we need time to implement our plan-more time before the emperor arrives here with his own army.”

“I understand,” replied Blayne. “And I have good news on that score. I have just received confirmation: the High Clerist’s Tower has been liberated by rebel forces. It surrendered without resistance to a band of fighters. They have manned the battlements and are prepared to block the pass against the emperor’s passage.”

“That’s good news, if true,” Ballard said. “A good garrison-say, a thousand men-manning the walls in that bottleneck will be enough to impede a whole army.”

“But where’d they come from?” Sir Jorde asked curtly. “I’d wager it would take a lot more than a thousand men to pry that fortress away from Markus and his Rose Knights.”

“It was an army of rebels-a small one, but several thousand trained men,” Blayne explained. “They were gathered in a secret valley not far from the tower. They’re friends of mine; they took me in when I fled Vingaard Keep in front of the emperor’s men.”

“These rebels-are they men of Vingaard too?” asked Ballard.

“Well, no,” young Kerrigan admitted. “At least, I don’t know them as such. I think they have come from all across Solamnia, everywhere people have become fed up with the emperor’s edicts.”

Sir Ballard fixed the lord with a piercing, suspicious look. “Well, it’s a curious development. I thought General Markus was the emperor’s man all the way, so I’m surprised to hear he would surrender without a fight. How good is your source of information?”

Blayne stiffened. Should he take offense? How good was his source?

When he considered the circumstances, the unseen man cloaking himself in magic and visiting Blayne in his small room in the thick of the night, he, too, wondered if he were being deceived.

But no, that was impossible. The man must be trustworthy. Blayne’s concealed visitor had known too much about Hoarst and the Black Army. It was Hoarst who had guided him to Archer Billings, and Billings who had put him in touch with the legion. The only explanation was that his nocturnal visitor was in league with Hoarst.

“I believe it’s reliable,” Blayne said. “I got it from a source connected to the man who sent me here.”

He had expected that explanation to be sufficient, but Ballard seemed surprisingly unmoved. “We’ll have to watch and wait, to be sure,” the legionnaire said. “But at the same time we’ll get ready to move at a moment’s notice.” He turned to Sir Jorde. “Can you send a man up there to check it out-as fast as possible?”