Stormy had spun his tale, allowing for his poor narrative skills, and it was his painfully obvious lack of imagination that lent it the greatest credence. Duiker was left with the bleak task of attempting to comprehend the significance of the events these soldiers had witnessed. That the warren of fire they had survived had changed the three men was obvious, and went beyond the strange hue of their skin. Stormy and Truth were tireless at the oars, and pulled with a strength to match twice their number. Duiker both longed to board the Silanda and dreaded it. Even without Nether’s mage-heightened sensitivity, the aura of horror emanating from that craft preyed on the historian’s senses.

‘Will you look at that, sir,’ Gesler said.

They had edged into the river’s awkward crook. The collapsed cliffside had narrowed the channel, creating a churning, white-frothed torrent through the gap. A dozen taut ropes spanned the banks at a height of over ten arm-spans. A dozen Ubari archers in harnesses were making their way across the gulf.

‘Easy pickings,’ Gesler said from the tiller, ‘and Stormy’s the man for the task. Can you hold us in place, Truth?’

‘I can try,’ the young man said.

‘Wait,’ Duiker said. ‘This is one hornet’s nest we’re better off not stirring up, Corporal. Our advance force is seriously outnumbered. Besides, look to the other side – at least a hundred soldiers have already gone over.’ He fell silent, thinking.

‘If they was chopping down trees, it wasn’t to build a bridge,’ the corporal muttered, squinting at the north cliff edge, where figures appeared every now and then. ‘Someone in charge’s just come for a look at us, sir.’

Duiker’s gaze narrowed on the figure. ‘Likely the mage. Well, if we won’t bite, hopefully neither will he.’

‘Makes a nice target, though,’ Gesler mused.

The historian shook his head. ‘Let’s head back, Corporal.’

‘Aye, sir. Ease up there, lads.’

The mass of Korbolo Dom’s forces had arrived, taking position to either side of the ford. The sparse forest was fast disappearing as every tree in sight was felled, the branches stripped and the trunks carried deeper into the encampment. A no-man’s zone of less than seventy paces separated the two forces. The trader track had been left open.

Duiker found Nether seated cross-legged beneath the awning, her eyes closed. The historian waited, suspecting that she was in sorcerous communication with Sormo. After a few minutes she sighed. ‘What news?’ she asked, eyes still shut.

‘They’ve strung lines across the gorge and are sending archers to the other side. What is happening, Nether? Why hasn’t Korbolo Dom attacked? He could crush us and not break into a sweat.’

‘Coltaine is less than two hours away. It seems the enemy commander would wait.’

‘He should have heeded the lesson of Kamist Reloe’s arrogance.’