Ushahin watched Tanaros lash his mount, sprinting for the fortress. He shook his head as he turned the blood-bay stallion’s course toward the high path along the Defile, thinking of the Grey Dam Sorash, who had raised him as her own, who had given her life to this venture.

It was folly, all folly. Yet he knew well, too well, the cost Tanaros bore this day.

Forgive me, Mother, he thought.

The Tordenstem were glad to see him; pathetic, bounding like dogs, squat, boulder-shaped dogs. Everything had gone wrong, confusing them. Ushahin sighed, riding to the verge of the crags where the easternmost rick was stationed and peering over the edge.

Tanaros’ Fjel were coming, a straggling line of them. It shocked him to see how few they were, how slowly they moved. At the Defile’s Maw, a scant dozen had made a stand, barring the path to Haomane’s Allies, there where it was narrow enough to be defended. They were wielding maces and axes to deadly effect, roaring in defiance.

“Tan-a-ros! Tan-a-ros!”

It wouldn’t last. A spark was moving on the plains; a red spark, a Soumanië, twinned with a diamond-brightness. Aracus Altorus was coming, and Malthus the Counselor with him. They were all coming, all of Haomane’s Allies.

Ushahin sighed again. “How did it come to this?”

Levers in hands, the Tordenstem exchanged confused glances. “Boss?”

“Pay me no heed.” Ushahin shook his head, impatient. “On my word, make ready to loose the first rockslide.”

”Aye, boss!” They positioned their levers.

Ushahin watched, raising one hand. The Fjel were hurrying, hurrying as best they could. Aracus Altorus had arrived at the base of the Defile. He forged a swath through Haomane’s Allies, his Soumanië flashing. Malthus the Counselor was at his side. The path began to crumble beneath the Tungskulder defenders’ feet.

“Tell the others to hurry,” Ushahin murmured to the Tordenstem.

One filled his lungs, his torso swelling. “Snab!” he howled. “Snab!”

The Fjel column hurried, even as the defenders began to fall and die, and Haomane’s Allies to push past them. Not daring to wait, Ushahin let his hand drop. “Now!” he cried.

The Tordenstem heaved on their levers. Rocks tumbled, boulders fell, all in a great rumbling rush, bouncing down the crags, blocking the Defile.

For a time.

Below, the red spark of the Soumanië gleamed, and pebbles began to shift, slow and inexorable.

For a third time, Ushahin sighed. “Let us go to the next station. Perhaps this time we can manage to crush a few of Haomane’s Allies.”

There was scant consolation in the thought, but at least it would take him a step closer to Darkhaven. Glancing uneasily toward the fortress, Ushahin prayed that it would not be too late, that it was not already too late. He remembered the Delta and the words of Calanthrag the Eldest.

Yet may it come later than sssooner for ssuch as I and you … .