The time for the simulator was past. There would never be another opportunity like this. Adding the Dunfolk to Miro's own men, he had nearly two thousand archers. It was time to show the enemy what they could do.

Miro now looked out from the height of the dirigible at the ruins of the Bridge of Sutanesta.

It had changed, in the time since he had last been here. The river was still turbulent, the wide, deep, waters of the Sarsen raging like an ocean in a gale. Scattered here and there in the river, the tops of the mighty blocks of stone poked above the water. But across the waters, on the Halrana side, much had changed. The Black Army had built walls of black stone, interspersed with low forts. Behind the walls jutted the occasional tall lookout tower, silhouetted menacingly against the golden sky of early dawn.

It was a terrible place to attack, fraught with peril, but the risk was worth it. Behind the formidable defences were the Halrana constructs they had been forced to leave behind when they last fought the Black Army at the site of this ruined bridge. At the very rear of Miro's army were the Halrana animators, skilled masters of lore, equipped with the last essence the allies would see until the war was over. If Miro could break through the defences and reanimate the ironmen, bonemen and woodmen on the Halrana side, it could tip the scales, and give his small army the upper hand in the struggle to free Halaran.

He knew it was a desperate gamble, but this was war, and Miro was fighting for his homeland, and for the very cause of freedom itself. It was a risk he had to take.

"Take me down," Miro told the dirigible pilot.

Soon the dirigible was again hovering above the floor of the field where Miro had assembled his men. He placed a hand on the rail of the dirigible's basket and leapt down to the ground, spurning the ladder.

Marshal Beorn waited for him, wincing when Miro landed lightly on the ground beside him. "Well?" Beorn asked.

"It's as we feared. The walls are perhaps taller than we thought; they must have strengthened them since we last scouted. It's a bad day to cross the river, but then every day is a bad day for these parts. How are the landing craft?"

"They are ready," Beorn said, scratching at his beard, "as ready as they'll ever be. We won't know if they can hold up against the river until we go across. I'm still not sure about the colossus. It's a lot to pin our hopes on."

"We've been over this," Miro said, looking across the field at the gigantic construct. The colossus made a nightshade look puny by comparison.

"Let's hope the animator is skilled indeed," Beorn said.