She'd been taken from her brother after they'd only just been reunited. Every second took Ella further and further from where she wanted to be.

"He seems angry," Shani said, "and I'll bet this prince he cares so much about is even madder."

"Shani, I have to get back to Altura," Ella said.

"Why?"

"Because there's a war going on!" she cried.

"And you want to fight?"

"Yes!"

"Think, Ella. Whatever this prince wants from you, do you think it will involve keeping you out of harms way?"

Ella thought about what Shani had said for a moment. Could she help Miro by aiding the prince? She then noticed that the Petryan woman was creeping steadily towards her.

"What are you doing?" Ella asked.

Shani darted forward and yanked several threads of golden hair from Ella's head. Ella yelped.

"Your hair stands out better than any signpost," Shani said. "Next chance we get, I'm leaving this on the trail."

"Who for?"

"For whoever your brother has sent after us."

10

10

THE enemy came in a wave of soundless black shapes that poured over the ridge and down to the wide, shallow river. Against the stormy night sky, Miro struggled to estimate their strength.

"It's a full attack," Beorn whispered hoarsely in his ear.

The black shapes hit the river, here where the enemy had discovered a place the Sarsen was shallow enough to be forded. They were immediately slowed by the water as they began to wade towards where Miro and his men sat in hiding, protected by the thick trees that lined the Alturan side of the border.

It was only the second night attack they'd faced. The enemy commanders were trying new tricks, some that worked and some that didn't. Miro wondered if night attacks would now be the norm.

For the hundredth time, Miro wished he could use the shadow effect of his armoursilk, but he knew it was more important to his men that they see their leader, fighting wherever the battle was thickest. At least he would be able to call forth the armoursilk's full strength.

He did have one surprise of his own in store for the warriors of the Black Army. Hidden in the forest were the four other bladesingers who had survived the battle at the Bridge of Sutanesta. The world's finest swordsmen had activated the cloaking effect, the low tones of their sonorous chanting unheard against the gurgling of the river.

Miro scanned the black dots in the river; there were too many to count, but he needed to get an overall feel for their numbers in order to determine how many precious prismatic orbs he should expend. So much of the fighting was like this now, assessing the enemy's strength before expending irreplaceable orbs and draining enchanted armour and swords to repel them.

"Every fourth man to throw a prismatic orb," Miro whispered to Marshal Beorn.

"Every fourth? It's a full attack, Miro, I would have at least said every third."