Vidar could not fathom what it could be. Had the dragon returned? Was it stomping through the countryside? No, it could not be a dragon. If it were, would he not see it, or hear it?

There were no earthquakes in Volis, either, no fault lines as far as he knew.

Perhaps, he thought, it was an approaching army. Was Pandesia heading this way with all its might? That wouldn’t make any sense, either, because the shaking stopped every minute before starting again. An army would not pause.

What, then, could it be?

The whole day he had shrugged it off as nothing, expecting it to go away. But now he could ignore it no longer.

Vidar felt a great responsibility; after all, this was the first time that Duncan had left him in charge of a fort—much less Volis—and he was determined to make him proud. With the bulk of their force headed south with Duncan, someone had to stay behind, to man this fort against an unexpected attack. He clutched his sword, not wanting to let Duncan down, and wondering why this would happen on his shift.

Another tremor came, this stronger than the last, and as Vidar watched, the stone a small pebble jumped off, falling off the parapet. He felt a pit in his stomach. Whatever it was, it was real.

Vidar turned and faced the others, who all looked back at him, pale. He detected something in their faces he had never quite seen before: fear. Vidar himself was unafraid to meet any enemy. At the first sign of any foe, he would rally his men and rush to defend, and would challenge any man—or army—sword to sword. It was what he did not know that concerned him.

Vidar looked north, toward The Flames, and a sinking feeling washed over him. He did not know why, but he felt that, whatever it was, it was coming from that direction—and that it was coming for them all.

*

Vesuvius stood deep underground, below Escalon, watching with ecstasy as, up ahead in the tunnel, the giant creature he had captured smashed and pounded its way through the stone. With each blow the earth shook, strong enough to make Vesuvius sway. His army of trolls, all around him, stumbled and fell, but Vesuvius managed to keep his footing, hands on his hips, as he stood there and watched with glee. He could remember few moments of greater satisfaction in his life. His plan, after all these years, was hatching perfectly.

The clouds of dust had not settled when the creature charged forward in a burst of rage, butting the stone wall with his head, reaching up and clawing, tearing at rock and stone, trying to break free and too stupid to know he was only digging deeper. It turned and turned, frustrated, unable to find its way out. And it smashed the stone some more.