done so,” frowned Vieri.
A murmur of concern swept the tent.
“The numbers concentrated in the Mnim alone surpass all previous totals,” continued Vieri, “and more flood in from the frozen wastes everyday. We can only assume the same increase occurs to the west. As I traversed the Scythtar Mountains the signs lie everywhere. Ulrog on the move, driven by Malveel. Theywill push out from the mountains.”
Temujen grimaced. Hai stared to the ground.
“They dare not move on the Erutre,” mumbled Hai. “We would cut them to shreds.”
“Not a force of this size,” returned Vieri. “Their numbers are too great, their tactics too advanced. The hands of Kel Izgra manipulate the actions of these creatures. They are no longer marauding beasts in the thrall of the Malveel. They have been trained and taught how to encounter us.”
Hai scoffed.
“Vieri Shan. Your assessment is deeply appreciated. But the Ulrog are simple beasts, incapable of performing complicated tactics and ....”
The loud blast of a horn cut his words short. Men and women leapt to their feet. An Eru rider burst into the floating palace, his saber drawn.
“Ulrog within the camp, my chief,” he shouted to Temujen. “Trackers eliminated our sentries.”
“What of the horses?” asked Temujen calmly.
“They ... they scattered, my lord,” stammered the rider.
Temujen spun on the men and women before him.
“To the horses!” commanded the chieftain. “They remain our salvation.”
He looked to his wife, Fondith.
“Those who cannot fight must be led south,” said Temujen searching for ideas. “Journey to the lake near the place of the scribes. We will regroup there and look for support from our allies.”
She nodded and ran from the tent. Temujen addressed his son.
“Lead the Ulrog away from the retreat,” ordered Temujen. “Coax them, goad them and entice them! Anything you can. The Hackles must be led west.”
Hai bowed quickly. He rose and his eyes met those of Vieri.
“Avra be with you,” said the Windrider.
“And with you,” he replied and dashed from the tent.
The signs lie everywhere. Twisted, gnarled tree trunks. Grass blackened and matted to the earth. A stillness hovered in the air. Not a single night-bird foraged the moonlit skies. The Memnod passed this way.
Kael and Ader hung in a small grove of trees not far from the moon shadows of the great palace of Astel. They stared at the tower before them. No light glowed within its confines. No laughter or merriment broke the quiet.
“We have luck on our side,” whispered Ader.
Kael furrowed his brow questioningly.
“The Memnod cleared our path,” continued the Seraph. “Izgra does not want his forces at one another’s throats. He sent the Ulrog onward before the Memnod marched through.”
“You believe the palace to be empty?”
“No,” returned Ader. “I’m sure Hackles and possibly worse lurk within, but the main force moved on. Amird’s battle to return to this world begins. Not many an Ulrog will be spared from the fight.”
Kael turned back to the darkened structure then stood.
“I must get inside.”
“Why?” asked Ader sharply.
Kael blinked.
“Why must you get inside?” repeated the Seraph, his voice firm. “Why are you drawn to Astel like a moth to a flame? Why now? Why not before? What changed?”
Kael’s eyes darted about in confusion. He looked to the ground. He remained unsure of how to answer. He searched his thoughts.
“I ... I must do something.” replied the boy.
“That is not adequate,” snapped the Seraph.
“What do you mean ‘not adequate’?”
“That will not suffice,” snarled Ader. “I know the way in. I led you here. We will go no further until you answer my question. Ineed to know why you want to get in there so badly.”
The duo stared at one another for a long moment. Ader’s set his jaw. His gray eyes penetrated the boy. Finally, Kael spoke.
“I will find something there. I will .... get