"This man's name is Rogan Jarvish, and until now we thought he was dead, killed along with so many of our Alturan and Halrana countrymen. This is the news: Rogan Jarvish is alive, and he is in Ralanast. He is building an army there, under the very noses of the legionnaires and templars. There is no man I would trust more to see this thing through, and his message to me is thus. We are ready, he says. Do you hear me, men? We are ready!"

Miro drew his zenblade and held it aloft. The roar of the men followed him as he dismounted the podium, reverberating through the trees of the forest.

He turned to Marshal Beorn, surprised to see the grizzled veteran wiping at his eyes. "The old rogue," Beorn said. "I fought beside him at the Battle for Ralanast. I saw him go down, surrounded by a pile of enemy dead. Somehow I knew it wasn't the right end for a man like him."

Miro clapped Beorn on the back. "It is good news, the very best. Now let's go show the Black Army some old tricks, with a few new ones thrown in for good measure."

31

31

THE attack began two hours after dawn.

The landing craft went first, carried upside-down on the arms of the men, who puffed and groaned as they ran towards the shore. From his command post atop a rocky knoll, Miro winced as he heard the popping thuds of the enemy's mortars, and a hail of orbs sailed over the river, through the air, and down on his men.

The flat-bottomed boats served a dual purpose here, for the majority of the orbs destined for the men landed instead on the craft. The enchanters had worked hard to build them as tough as possible with minimal use of essence, and the prismatic orbs exploded against the boats with little damage to the men underneath.

Then Miro's greatest fears were realised when he saw a black cloud rising from behind the towering wall, and at least a dozen dirigibles rose into the air, heading straight for the place where the boats were slipping off the soldiers' shoulders and plunging into the raging river. Even the rail-bows would be useless against the enhanced armour of the dirigibles' shells – it was the bows that were enchanted, not the arrows.

Miro's counter was weak at best, and as the enemy's dirigibles reached the middle of the river, the allies' sole remaining airship came into view, high in the sky above them. The massive net was flung out, weighted at the ends with balls of lead, and flew down to envelope four of the clustered dirigibles in its web. Tangled, the net and its prey continued to fall down and into the river. It was the best Miro could hope for, but it left eight of the black dirigibles ready to rain terror on his unprotected men below.