The clan leader was frowning, but he said nothing as Kar ordered the sorcerer-warriors to roll the nearest of the huge boulders across the passage entrance. Fin remained tense and silent as small iron rings were set into the boulder’s surface and the strings attached. Only when Kar declared the trap set did Fin call Kar over to explain.

“You did not use the suspended boulder.”

“I did,” Kar assured him. “It is a distraction.”

“How so?”

“The enemy will be too busy worrying that the suspended boulder is a trap to notice the ropes.”

Fin nodded slowly. “And when the enemy’s sorcerers move this boulder out of the way, they will trigger the fall of the massed rocks on the ledge back at the turn. You strike not at the head of the army this time, but at its guts.”

“They will put their fire-warriors at the front of their army, to shield against traps or remove blockages.”

Fin chuckled. “What will you come up with next, I wonder.”

Kar smiled. “We still have not used the acid.” He looked at the fire-warriors. “That will require alert and rested minds for safe handling.”

“Yes. We all need a rest. Let us find a place to sit.” He gestured to the man driving the tarn. “Bring us food and water.”

As the men settled onto rocks to rest and eat, Kar gazed at the road ahead. The pass and Hania were still many hours’ walk away. He, Fin and their assistants had fallen far behind the rest of the Dunwayan army, but they would catch up eventually. In a day or two they would enter the pass and join the Circlian army.

He smiled. Then they would join in the greatest battle between mortals ever to take place in Northern Ithania.

The Plains of Gold were crisscrossed with roads. Those the Dreamweavers had been taking were smaller and less maintained than the main east–west road the army was following. Sometimes they ran parallel to the main road and sometimes they took a different direction, but in general the Dreamweavers were able to keep pace with the army fairly easily.

Today they had been forced to travel along an uneven grassy track that wandered far from the army’s path. Arleej was unconcerned, however. Local farmers had told them that the track would soon meet with a more frequented road, which ran directly south to meet the east–west road. At that point the Dreamweavers would begin following the army at a cautious distance.

Leiard glanced at his student. Jayim was watching the ground before the arem, a crease between his eyebrows. He had grown more confident and skilled at driving the tarn now, but still needed to concentrate at the task. It was too much to expect the boy to receive lessons at the same time.