During the second storm, the ships had released dozens, no, hundreds of men onto the strand. They were small figures, carried no obvious weapons; but they were as agile as lemurs. When the skies cleared, they swept up over the rubble and the shattered terraces. Within moments, all of the snipers were dead, shredded by the clawed fingers and toes of their foes.

In the aftermath, Hegels sent his Magisters back to the Open Hand. His riflemen he kept. But they could do little more than watch as teams from the ships unloaded timbers, set pilings, and began constructing a wide ramp to replace the broken portions of the road. Before long, the ramp reached high enough to brace itself on undamaged stone. Then infantrymen shielded in iron came upward, ascending in ranks as if their numbers had no limit. They were difficult to kill.

The Second Captain saw no other choice. He ordered the final evacuation of the encampment. Using only his riflemen, he planned a fighting retreat while he waited for new orders from the King.

The King’s response was simple.

Bring the enemy to the Hand. Make him follow you.

The news from Hegels was bad. In some ways, Matt’s reports were worse.

The First Captain had intended to drive his men like a wedge into the army of raiders, hoping to reach the mountain pass that opened into Belleger. There, his earthquake-wielder, Magister Astride, could have attacked the pass itself. Any avalanche would hinder Rile’s allies. Then the advantage of rifles might suffice to hold back the enemy.

But when Matt neared the Realm’s Edge, the raiders already commanded the flanks of the mountains. Hundreds of them guarded the pass while more of their comrades arrived: men on horseback wearing loose garments of black-streaked white cloth open only at their faces, armed with javelins and long knives. Mounted, they had no defense against bullets except numbers. But their numbers were enough. Before Matt could reconsider his tactics, they rushed him.

Firing until his rifle barrel steamed in the cold, he found that even Magister Astride could not halt them. They vaulted their horses over her clefts in the earth and kept coming until her stamina failed. The First Captain was forced to withdraw.

For some reason, the raiders did not give chase. When he had put two leagues between his remaining riflemen and the enemy, he paused to examine his choices.

Of course, he signaled for reinforcements. But any soldiers that King Bifalt could spare would take days to arrive. In the meantime, Matt had his orders.

Sighing, he sent a dozen men back toward the growing host. They were to get within rifle-range, shoot until the enemy reacted, then run. How the raiders answered might tell him what to do next.