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Elodi stood as close to the edge of Roth’s Doom as she dared. In years past, a fence had prevented visitors from meeting their own doom as their curiosity got the better of them. But while the fence had long since fallen into a state of disrepair, few took the trouble to visit the chasm following the fall of the Seven Realms — the danger had become all too real once more. The myth was known to all, and although none truly believed it possible, it did make for a good story. At the height of his power, Ormoroth sought to free his Master from the dungeon beneath Caranach. Perhaps inspired by the feat of Tunduska to separate his kingdom from the south, Ormoroth forged a great axe of iron, mined from the seams beneath his ice fortress. It was said even the peaks of the Caerwals shuddered when Ormoroth split the bedrock. But his might proved too much for the craft of his blacksmiths. On reaching the foundations of the mountains, he swung with such force, the axe head shattered. His once fair face was disfigured by the splintering iron, and as the tales claim, the scars still pained him when Dorlan expelled him from the realms.

Elodi peered down into the depths, perhaps as deep as Caranach was tall. The chasm was deserving of such a spectacular tale, but the mountains lay five leagues to the west. If Ormoroth had intended to free the Evil One, he would surely have attempted the feat on the east side of the Kolossos where Mount Caranach reared its head. Elodi smiled to herself. While none had set eyes upon Ormoroth for a thousand years, she was certain he could not be tall enough to wield a weapon capable of causing such a deep rent.

Elodi turned. Across the plain, the banners of the First Horse, Archonian Guards, Knights of the Archon, and forces from all regions of the Five Realms, fluttered in the stiff breeze. She tried to take encouragement from the size of her assembled army, now close to twelve thousand following Bardon’s arrival. And more came. Earlier that day she had received news of Ruan and Cubric leading two thousand swords and spears into the pass. But would they appear in time? The reports from her scouts fleeing south had filled Elodi with dread. Rank upon rank of well-armed and disciplined Ruuk, marched south at a frightening speed. Yet it was not the size of the army alone that caused concern. The scouts had spied Dorlan riding at the head of the Knights of Calerdorn corrupted at Durran Wood. Accompanying these poor souls were those of fighting age from Dorlgoth, and many more from Dorn Plain, captured and turned to the Ul-dalak’s cause. And if that was not enough to chill her to the core, the enemy’s right flank was bolstered by clusters of aralaks. That morning, her rider had returned from Omstrad, but while relieved to hear Toryn and the Amayans had defended the town, word of the nest in the North Forest disturbed her.

Elodi’s eyes wandered back to the colors proudly flown in the camps. She pondered how many would survive the coming winter should they fail. Did the land remember Draegelan’s victory? She tried to envisage his formidable force at the height of the Seven Realms’ power; a force that even Ormoroth could not take lightly. How she wished she could cause even the slightest doubt in the hearts of her foes. But first, she had to rid the uncertainty from her own.

Elodi shivered. The air had chilled noticeably since their arrival at her chosen place to do battle. And as if to announce the coming of the dark forces, grim clouds billowed high as if waiting for the command to unleash a storm onto her army.

‘I cannot find them.’ Elodi turned to see Nyomae stood beside her. ‘My farsight is compromised, and my attempts to enter the Song have all been thwarted.’

Elodi spoke to herself. ‘Then we are blind to what happens elsewhere.’

‘And they expend much effort to ensure we remain so.’ Nyomae touched Elodi’s shoulder. ‘But this at least will consume the warlocks, and I’m certain they will not be able to maintain it for long. At some point, they will have to stand aside if they are to participate in the battle.’

Elodi scanned the plain. ‘Then I assume their efforts are to prevent me positioning my force to best meet their attack.’ She turned to face Nyomae. ‘You believe the warlocks will fight?’

‘I do. They have a large force to command. Not all their combatants are committed to their cause. They require coercion to fight. And nothing drives a warlock like the prospect of a kill, especially when they hold the upper hand.’

Elodi looked to the horizon in the north. But it could not be seen; the land and sky had merged in the untimely darkness. ‘Is there the slightest chance we can achieve a victory?’

Nyomae smiled. ‘A slight chance, but a chance all the same. The warlocks will have to cede their influence over the Song at some point. And when they do, I will seek to gain some advantage. But first, we’ll have to endure an onslaught not seen for many a century.’

Elodi glanced back to the encampment. ‘Then we shall rise to the occasion.’

Nyomae sighed. ‘And now I must go and prepare if I’m to deliver on my promise.’

Elodi clasped her hand. ‘I have faith in you, Nyomae, but if we fail…’

‘We will have done our duty and not backed down where many would have capitulated.’

Elodi watched Nyomae leave. While she expected a conventional battle had to be fought, she was under no illusion the outcome relied on Nyomae. And for that reason, Nyomae required protection. A detachment of the First Horse and Bardon’s Elites would form a ring around the Imaari while she attempted to free Dorlan. And if successful, she would then focus her attention on Uleva and Uldrak. But if the enemy smashed through the ring and Nyomae fell…

Elodi strode back to the command tent. Her captains had gathered and awaited her arrival. She took a deep breath, threw back her shoulders, and entered. Her gaze fell on the hastily drawn chart of the region showing the positions of her forces. The thin defensive lines moved under the flickering candlelight, and to Elodi’s eyes they appeared to retreat. And who could blame them? The large, dark squares depicting the likely enemy formations, dominated the sketch. But the map looked too simple, too neat, to represent what would be the biggest battle any had fought in their lives. And a battle against an enemy concealing unknown horrors in the shadows behind its vanguard.