So it was that Raj Ahten reached his army well before dawn, but the toll was heavy. In jogging well over a hundred miles in armor, with no food, he lost some twenty pounds of fat. The sweat stormed off him in waves, so that even though he stopped frequently to drink from streams and puddles, he’d lost another ten pounds of water. The pounding to his kidneys and bones left him weakened. It was not the condition he would have chosen to fight in.

As Raj Ahten traveled, he found signs that his army, which had forged ahead, was faltering. Dozens of horses had fallen by the roadside, still in their armor. Another dozen foot soldiers had succumbed during the march. He found frowth giants and mastiffs lying senseless by pools, wheezing, overheated from their run.

When he reached his troops, he did not mind that his men had been delayed by the ruined bridge at Hayworth, for the delay had cost them but four hours. Four hours he spent resting and eating as he rode the remainder of the way to Longmot.

All the way, he worried. Jureem’s betrayal and running off into the night, the portents at the Seven Stones—both weighed on him. Yet Raj Ahten discounted them. He wanted but one thing from Longmot: his forcibles. Once he had them, he would have time to consider other matters.

His men made such good time that he called a halt for an hour, in the city of Martin Cross, so his men could rummage through the houses and barns for food.

Shortly after dawn, thirty miles from Longmot, his outriders reported that a contingent of several hundred knights was fleeing before their army, men riding under a dozen banners. Knights Equitable from Castle Dreis and estates thereabouts.

Raj Ahten felt tempted to give chase in earnest, but knew that his men were now ill equipped for a race.

So he took his time riding to Longmot, resting on the way. At ten in the morning, he rounded the big bend in the hills and spotted Castle Longmot on its promontory, some two miles distant.

His outriders climbed a hill to get a clearer view, then called down a report. “General Vishtimnu hasn’t arrived yet, O Great Light.”

Raj Ahten did not worry. With over six thousand men and giants, he could hold Longmot until reinforcements arrived. In fact, he could set up the siege engines and begin pounding the castle within hours, while waiting for Vishtimnu’s advent.

Orden had not bothered to raise Longmot’s hoardings—timber frames that could protect the castle’s roofs from missiles. With Raj Ahten’s flameweavers, the hoardings would have simply become fuel for a grand blaze.