"I think we're getting close," Stoneheart said, looking at the six dead men on the ground in front of them.

They had already spent the better part of two weeks in search of the army, and although they had come across several scouting parties, there was little sign of the main force.

The region was hilly and densely forested, and the terrain made it far harder to find the army than they had anticipated. In such an environment, they could have easily passed within a mile of their enemies without ever noticing.

Initially, they had thought they could simply capture a few scouts and wring information from those, but the scouts fought with an almost religious fervor, choosing death over capture. And when they finally caught one alive, the man bit off his tongue before they could make him speak.

After that, they had stopped trying to capture their enemies alive.

Still, even if the scouts they found would not talk, they knew they were getting closer. Just in the past two days, they had encountered three scouting parties, and come across the tracks of several others.

Arran took a few moments to search the dead scouts' belongings, and soon, a smile formed on his face.

"We've got them," he said.

Stoneheart gave him a puzzled look. "What makes you say so?"

Arran triumphantly held up a piece of fresh flatbread.

At once, Stoneheart's eyes went wide with excitement. "So they're less than a day away! We've got them!"

Arran gave the tall novice a satisfied nod. Until now, all the scouts they'd killed had carried only stale supplies. That these new ones had fresh supplies meant they had only just left their camp — probably earlier that morning.

"So what do we do now?" Stoneheart asked. "Try to follow their tracks back to the camp?"

"That won't work. Neither of us is any good at tracking," Arran said with a shake of his head. "Give me a moment."

He quickly spotted what looked to be the tallest tree near them, then clambered up it, the climb posing little challenge to his unnaturally strong and dexterous body.

Near the top of the tree, he could see over most of the canopy, and he soon spotted what he needed: a tall hill in the distance.

He made his way down again, then turned to Stoneheart. "Follow me. I know how to find them."

In the dense forest it took them well over an hour just to reach the hill, and then another one to reach its peak. Arran didn't mind — he already knew that their enemy could no longer escape them.

"Now what?" Stoneheart asked when they finally were atop the hill, hidden among the brush at its peak.

While they could see for miles around from the position, all that was visible was the thick canopy of the surrounding forest. Of the army, there was no sign.

"Now we wait," Arran replied. "They'll make camp when evening begins to fall, and when they do, we'll be able to spot the smoke of their campfires."

He was reasonably confident that the plan should work. An army of thousands would move slowly, and from what he had seen of their enemies so far, he thought they would not have the discipline to hide their fires.

The wait took several hours, and as evening began to fall, Arran started to feel some worry. Despite his prediction, there had still not been any sign of smoke anywhere in the distance, and it wouldn't be long before dusk fell and the sky became too dark.

"There!" Stoneheart said, just as Arran was starting to think he had made a mistake. "Look!"

Arran did as the novice said, and with some effort, he could make out a thin plume of smoke about ten miles from their position. Although he wasn't certain the smoke came from the army, another small plume of smoke soon appeared, and then another.

They had found the army.

Stoneheart gave Arran a glance. "Think we should go take a look?"

Arran nodded. "We'll have to scout the terrain and find out their numbers before we take action. Only one way to do that."

They set off immediately, making use of the light that remained to make their way toward their enemies as quickly as they could. Excited from finally finding their enemies, their progress was rapid, and they traversed most of the distance in less than an hour.

As they came closer to the camp, they were forced to move more carefully. There were guards posted in the area surrounding the camp, and neither of them had any great skill at stealth. Still, with the darkness concealing them and Arran's Shadowsight revealing any nearby guards, they managed to pass unnoticed.

Finally, they reached a spot on a thickly forested hillside that overlooked their enemies' camp, just a few hundred paces away from it.

Although Arran had known their enemies numbered in the thousands, now that he could actually see them he still felt some shock. The camp was filled with hundreds of small fires, each surrounded by at least a dozen soldiers, with many more soldiers walking between them.

Suddenly, Arran began to feel some doubt about his ability to take them on. Even if his reason told him the numbers would make no difference, his eyes had trouble believing it.

"There's so many of them," Stoneheart whispered, mirroring Arran's thoughts.

"Have you spotted their leader yet?" Arran asked in a low voice, suppressing any anxiety he felt.

"No," Stoneheart replied. "But look, something seems to be happening at the center of the camp."

With a look, Arran saw that Stoneheart was right. At the center of the camp, on a small mound of earth, a group of soldiers was stacking wood for what looked to be a pyre.

"Let's wait and see what happens," Arran said.

They waited patiently, watching as most of the soldiers ate while the others continued to build the pyre. When they finally finished, they set fire to it, and within moments the fire spread completely through the heap of wood, blazing dozens of feet into the sky.

A few moments later, the soldiers abandoned their campfires, gathering in a wide circle around the fire. It was clear that something was about to happen, though Arran had no idea what.

After a few minutes, a tall, bald man with paper-white skin stepped through the mass of soldiers, the crowd parting widely as he passed. Finally, he came to a stop in front of the fire, then turned to face the others.

"That's him!" Stoneheart hissed. "The mage!"

Arran nodded, already having figured out that this would be the army's leader - the so-called 'Lord of Bones.'

The bald man spread his arms wide, then spoke.

"The Blood God has blessed us with strength!"

The man's deep voice sounded through the camp like a thunderclap, and Arran knew he must be using some kind of magic to amplify it.

"The Blood God has blessed us, but we have squandered his blessing!" the mage continued. "Tonight, we will present offerings in penance, and ask him to renew his blessing!"

Arran had a sinking feeling, as he knew what was about to happen.

"Bring forth the offerings!"

A group of soldiers appeared, dragging a dozen prisoners with them, bound and blindfolded. At once, Arran's hand shot toward Stoneheart's shoulder, preventing the novice from attacking right then.

"We can't let them do it!" Stoneheart said, his voice louder than it should be. "They're going to burn them!"

"We can't attack now," Arran replied. "If we do, we'll both die. Now come with me."

If they attacked the army head-on, the soldiers would overwhelm Stoneheart, while the mage would be free to attack Arran. To win, they needed to split the mage from his soldiers, then have Stoneheart occupy the leader while Arran slaughtered the men.

Stoneheart let Arran guide him away, albeit reluctantly. As they moved through the woods, screams sounded in the distance, and they knew their enemies' offerings had begun.

When they were half a mile away from the camp Arran stopped, then turned to face Stoneheart.

"Listen," he said as he began to take his armor from his void bags. "We'll only get one chance at this, and we need to move quickly."

"What do we do?" Stoneheart asked, a coldly murderous look on his face.

"Take this," Arran said, handing Stoneheart his Duskcloak. "There's a hill about a mile back. I want you to hide up there. The enemy mage will go there not long after the battle begins, and when he does, I want you to burn his face off. But don't reveal yourself before he gets involved, no matter what."

Stoneheart frowned. "How do you know he'll be there?"

"Leave that to me." Arran did not bother to explain. There simply wasn't enough time to detail the plan that was forming in his mind.

"All right," Stoneheart said after a brief pause. Then, he took a look at the stack of armor Arran had taken from his bag. "What's with the armor?"

It was a question Arran had expected. He knew mages normally eschewed armor, preferring the speed and mobility that would normally be more useful against other mages. Yet this was not a normal battle, and if all went well, Arran would not be facing mages.

"I'm fighting an army," Arran replied. "I don't want some lucky asshole shooting an arrow through my throat while I kill those bastards."

It was the truth, but not the entire truth. The armor would help protect him, but it would also hide his identity. And despite Snowcloud's words, Arran still feared that one of the other factions was involved.

"Now hurry," he said. "I want to attack while they're all gathered together."

Stoneheart gave him a nod. "Good luck," he said, then quickly set off, his tall figure soon fading in the shadows of the forest.

As Arran began to put on his armor, a cold determination took hold of him. Whatever Blood God his enemies had wanted to appease, tonight, no gods could save them.