the twisting track until they entered a deep cleft between two peaks. The ground grew less treacherous and Connell increased the pace. They rounded a tight bend and ran through the middle of a Morne encampment.
The sentries dove clear of the charging horses and hissed angry retorts at the riders’ backs.
Connell breathed a sigh of relief as the way ahead sloped downward. We just may make it yet, he thought although he waited for the impact of a black-shafted arrow into his back.
It was well past midnight before Connell relaxed. He knew they were beyond Sur’kar’s gloom and through breaks in the overcast sky a few stars could be seen. Low on the horizon he could see the bright glow of the moon shining through.
Exhausted by the long ride they left the foothills and entered the land of Moinar-Thur. In the feeble moonlight they could see but a short distance into a rugged land covered with a thin veil of snow.
Connell dismounted and threw the hood of his robe back. “Looks like we’ve made it.” He said stretching his back.
They switched their saddles over to the remounts and fed the steeds a few handfuls of grain.
“Sun should be coming up soon.” Connell said suffering through the harsh bite of the bread, he had finally given in to hunger.
“It will be good to gaze upon it once more.” Yoladt said. “Even within the mountain home of my people the sun shines through the great rent for many hours.”
Connell’s hand flew to his sword as he heard the muted snap of a twig from a nearby stand of stunted trees.
“Leave your weapons sheathed.” A voice commanded from the darkness. “There are arrows aimed at your hearts, any wrong move and we will drop you where you stand.”
“We are not Morne.” Connell called out.
“You would be dead now had you been.” The voice answered. “Yet you have come from Tarok-nor. The question is are you spies for Sur’kar’s scum?”
“We most certainly are not!” Yoladt snapped his honor offended.
Connell motioned for Yoladt to hold his temper in check. “I am Connell, Prince of Kesh and the son of King Wolhan. Three companions and I left Timosh and Tarok-nor in the hopes of slaying Sur’kar. Our quest has failed and my friends lie dead within the ruins of V’rag.”
A single figure stepped out of the darkness a loaded crossbow in hand. About his shoulders hung a cloak of mottled white. “I’ll be damned.” He said in disbelief. “I was in Timosh when your party departed milord.”
“Many brave men ward that wall.” Connell said. “Forgive me if I do not recognize your face.”
“Turolk is my name.” He said with a bow. Lowering the crossbow as he turned and whistled sharply into the darkness.
Three men rose from the snow. They approached warily bows in hand.
“My companions.” Turolk said. “Ild, Erson, and argen.” He pointed to each man he named. “Put your weapons away lads, its Lord Connell of Kesh.”
The men quickly unloaded the crossbows, slipping the bolts into quivers strapped to their thighs.
Connell nodded in greeting and motioned Yoladt to step forward. “This is Yoladt, warrior of the Mahjie and a trusted companion.”
Yoladt smiled in greeting. “Well met.”
“How did you end up out here?” Connell asked Turolk.
“We were to relieve the watch at the outermost tower, Tor’lith. There were twenty of us in all but we were ambushed by the Morne and only those of us who were lucky enough managed to escape the ambuscade.
“We were cut off from the keep by a horde beyond counting. We could do little to aid those in the keep, so we came here and have slain several score Morne as they have come down out of the pass.”
“You have done well then.” Connell complimented the men. “None of Sur’kar’s messengers have made it to the besiegers then.”
“None by this path.” Turolk said with a hint of pride.
“Tell him of the forest men.” The young man named Erson said.
“Bah!” Turlock dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “Nothing but a rumor that is.”
Connell raised his hand interrupting Turlock. “In times of war rumors often prove to be true.”
“Very well,” Turlock conceded. “During the first days of the siege a force of men rode out of the forest mounted upon giant stags. Aided by survivors from the tower of Re’lith they set fire to many of Sur’kar’s siege engines.” Turlock shrugged. “Tis but a rumor, for I have seen no forest warriors or other men for that matter.”
“Then how came