Horns were blowing and hooves beating the earth to the north and west. A battle flag appeared over the crest of a ridge on the other side of the Chasm. Next came a row of lances whose sharp edges gleamed in the light of the sun. It was a regiment of Autochthon cavalry on their mounts, and at its head was a woman whose long yellow hair streamed like a pennant from beneath her bright helm: Sooth of El. They must have been summoned days ago through the weird emanations of the Hive, and ridden to this place.

In this way did the armies of El converge toward the Fastness, and it had to be admitted that in their speed, their number, and their beauty they made the opposition seem feeble and disarrayed. It was only the towering form of Egdod himself, standing upon the stone anvil with the tiny ball of aura cupped in his hand, that could give any hope whatever to those who rejoiced at his return.

The hoofbeats of a solitary mount traversed the Anvil Plain from the direction of the bridge. War flourished his sword in salute and bowed low to Spring as she galloped past him. Egdod gazed down on her approach with a face that showed sorrow and joy. But knowing that the eyes of El and many others were upon him he spoke brusquely, and not to Spring but to Freewander, who was dipping and wheeling about him: “Show her where to form up.”

And so for a time the Anvil Plain was alive with preparations for battle as Freewander led Spring to a position where the advance of the Autochthons could be blocked, or at least slowed, should it come to a clash of arms. The Lightning Bears followed her and the Dug followed them. Behind the old rampart they formed up, facing north toward the bridge. War strode to and fro along their lines mustering them into battle array. The blasts of Pan’s trumpets brought order; the booming of Pan’s war drums made their blood boil.

“None of this matters,” said El. “You can make whatever preparations you please on the ground. The air is filled with my angels.”

Sooth’s cavalry came in force over the bridge to the Anvil Plain. They arrayed themselves facing the Dug. Spring was amusing herself by causing thick sweet grass to grow in the place between, and Sooth’s mounts, seeing and smelling it, were causing no end of trouble for their riders. They must have been galloping for days from Secondel and they must have been ravenous.