We started out for sites along the high rim the next day, after seeing Chord and Dimanda off with another Nublin guide, to return to Dervin. Chord would go forward from there to rejoin Wayland, and despite all argument, Dimanda would return to the tower of Mage Belmus, to receive any information May-Anne might forward.

Orehammer knew of four good locations accessible from the village, so the Nublin were divided into four cadres. There were dozens of travois, all piled with lashed sacks full of caltrops and other supplies. We mounted an enormous rack on the Golem, and lashed the three barrels of black powder and the chain I had made to the clay figure. The oddly distributed weight did not seem to bother it in the slightest. We traveled together for part of the way, and I found Orehammer more sociable on the move than he had been on our former visits.

"These be mostly mining trails, hewed back inta th' rock so's ta make carryin' back samples easier. None a 'em lead to anything worth developing inta' a community. There's a couple shafts as lead on to promisin' veins O' this an that, but till the main mine peters down some, they be on hold. Of the four sites along the rim, only two have much like the trail we be on here."

I was a bit surprised to be told the barely passable goat trail we were following amounted to a cleared path. At the widest areas, only two could walk abreast. The ballista parts and travois frequently caused us to stop, while they were hauled up rocky inclines on rope. Over the day, we came to several partings of ways and the main group shrank, until only twenty-five of us continued on to our particular spot above the pass.

To optimize the efficiency of the strike, it had been decided that a flaming arrow would be lofted to signal the start of our bombardment. Brock and Thavis had stayed with me. On arriving, we scrambled over the loose rock and treacherously balanced boulders of the brink, to look down upon a packed mass of Burlies. They had been herded well forward by the tall, contorted monsters the demons had created through oversize portals still strewn along the pass roadway.

I frowned seeing this. Our other sites were further north along the pass, and from those, little damage would be done unless we could drive some of the mob back under them. We backed out to more stable ground, and discussed this as the Nublin finished assembling the ballista we had brought.

Thavis shook his head. "We haven't enough material with us to overly bother so many, William. Maybe we should call the other groups back to join us here." I squinted at the surrounding land. There was little enough space here for my twenty-five and all the supplies. It was an ungraded slope of loose stone, interrupted by jutting protrusions ending in a straight fall into the divide below. I bit my lower lip, and considered our supplies.

Gort had come with me, so there was black powder intended for use on the forts and keep, but the quantity was limited and I wanted to retain it for that purpose. Then again, there was delivery to think of. Fusing and empty bags were available, and hard leather slings brought to launch the caltrops. Eying the ballista, I doubted it could deliver a sackful of the explosive into the pass, considering the violence of its throw, without ripping the bag, or putting out the fuse.

Any explosion timed that way would be moot, anyway. It would be hard to gauge when a particular fuse would reach a bag, even if it stayed lit. The thought of all those Nublin handling fired and fused bags of explosive was more worrying than the creatures below.

However, that gave me another idea. I opened one of the barrels. The mixture had been a little fine, I had thought, at the time I mixed it. I ran my fingers through it, and pulled my hand up to let the powder bleed back into the barrel. The wind was still, as it happened, yet the black dust bloomed and wisped.

I assembled our archers and explained what I had in mind. They nodded among themselves."Aye, we can do that."I detailed several to the task of filling bags as large as could possibly be attached to arrows and still get a flight. This only required a portion of what I had brought, and accuracy wasn't a problem as they would be fired down into the pass. A fire pot was set out, well back, and fire arrows, coated with tar and niter, were placed nearby. When we were ready, my bowmen punctured the powder-rigged shafts and fired volleys of them down into the pass. A drifting cloud of black powder spread over the jostling, packed Burlies. We moved back from the launch area, and the archers quickly retrieved and lit the fire arrows. They sent them streaming down into the cloud of black powder, which ignited with a whump that could be heard from our overlook.

The burlies were instantly caught in a bloom of fire. Spooked, they began to run pell-mell back past the herding monsters and deep into the pass. Some small amount of the powdery blast assailed us as well, but prepared for the fire and acrid taint, it did us no damage.

A signal arrow was launched straight up, and we began slinging hundreds of poisoned caltrops high in the air, to plummet into the pass. All the archers returned to sending storms of shafts, also poisoned, into the milling press. Further down, I could see similar fogs of shaft and caltrop, raining down. The caltrops that did not pierce a target on descent, rolled about the pass, to be stepped upon again and again, poisoning endless numbers of stampeding Burlies.

We wheeled the ballista to a point where it had the best clear shot at the roadway, and the Nublin crew began targeting the larger monstrosities. Remarkable climbers, many started up the steep walls of the divide, but that was slow going into a downward hail of poisoned arrows. Thavis, Brock and I stood by to repel any that might make the rim, but only one did. A luminescent monstrosity, curved talons digging deep into the cracked and shattered crags of the steeps, managed to hoist itself up as far as the loose, shifting slope of our landing.

With shouts of desperation, the Nublin crewing the ballista turned the weapon to face the horror, and quickly worked the cranks. The weapon's arms pulled back in creaking torture, and released with a thrumming moan. A five foot rod of tearing death drove into the thing as it searched for purchase in the rim's loose stone. The shaft lifted it clear into the air, and it fell.

In two hours' time, movement had ceased in the pass. I did not have any idea how Felway's troops would respond, but the route was now clear for Wayland's professionals, at least. Removing the caltrops would be a small task, and if Felway advanced into the pass to clash with Waylands men, they would not know to watch where they trod.

Orehammer whooped and shouted, clapping his men on the back, even me, and began to issue orders to withdraw. "That should thin out the hills for a bit, no mistake. 'Twas a good idea of yours, William. Luck be with ye."

Thavis and I closed up and remounted the opened barrel to Gort's rig, setting off with Brock toward the sheer rocky face behind the fortification. To me, the mountain trek seemed an unending maze of blind turns, climbs and descents through places where there was no horizon or landmark. Yet Brock never faltered or lost his way. Even Thavis, who had the instincts of a homing pigeon, seemed unsure, at times, of his direction. Gort, if ordered, might have been able to thread his way, but I was happy to have Brock lead us.

The site still seemed undiscovered, or at least unguarded, and we were a little better prepared for the ascent this time. Thavis helped me unwind a quantity of rope from Gort's barrel rack. Cinching one end to the Golem, I directed he climb up and secure it in the bore he had made in the shear's side. Using the rope, and handholds dug into the sheer, I climbed to peek through the tunnel's end at the fort, and look for changes. The two cannons were still apparent, and the half buried bunker still in place.

The troops were now mustered, rows of dull red uniforms marshaling in the area before the forts. I still saw no signs of rifles or other modern arms. Some sort of preparations were underway at the fort's far end, possibly a target range though, and the field was full of movement. I did not have the altitude to see into the opposing fort, but there was no reason to believe it was structurally any different.

As it was, any force breaching the pass would have to run a gauntlet between the two forts. If I could disrupt even one of them, Wayland would have his chance. I backed out to the cliff opening, and signaled Thavis.

He had tied one of the specially prepared barrels to the rope, and Gort hauled it up to the opening. The construction of this barrel was very thick, and it was tightly packed with black powder and chunks of iron. A wick entered it through a hole bored into the top, previously shortened to burn a bit faster than the drop count made on my last visit.

I moved the barrel to the opening and lit the short fuse, pushed the barrel out and down onto the roof of the dump, and backed away. Less than a quarter of the tunnel lay behind me when two roaring explosions, one following the other, beat against the sheer.

I had been right in my assessment of the odd building, it was an explosive dump, by the sound, not filled with weak homemade black powder either. I fought back the urge to return to the peep hole and see for myself, but I wagered the small dirt piles ramped against its walls had done little to contain the blast.

Steve Markham, AKA MaCaan, had gleaned a remarkable amount of technology during his foray in Illinois and elsewhere, but he was apparently no military engineer. At the very least, there would be no more gunpowder being transferred from Illinois to feed cannons and rifles. Very likely, the wooden stockade was now a burning shambles.

We left immediately. There was no way to tell if someone had spied the smoking barrel drop from the cliff, but the chances were better than they would have been if I had been forced to go back and try again.

We made our way back to one of the rim sites. I noted with satisfaction a greasy black pillar of dense smoke still rose thickly from the direction of the fort.Wayland's Army moved slowly through the pass below us. We could see a scattering of advance troops moving about, retrieving caltrops, and generally clearing the way, while the main body came behind, ranked in dusty columns. Between breaks in the slowly marching men, wheeled catapults and long trains of large hand carts were visible.

I guessed Mage Orton and Chord would be with the forerunners, closing the ports and hunt holes by which Veddek had infested the pass. Although it was against my better judgment, I hadn't been able to figure a way to move Gort and the black powder safely through the city without being challenged, so while the army marched by, we used the rope and Gort's unique talents to descend to roadway.

Our progress was marked, of course, but we were recognized, and so not challenged as we struggled with the ropes and supplies. The army had all but moved on by the time we made the bottom. Gort again was last, and after lowering the other supplies, he employed his usual method of simply crashing down the steep ravine's side like a dull red boulder rolled from the rim. The chasm's drop was clean, so there was little loose material to accompany the Golem; still, we all took cover as the device plummeted and bounced its way to the ground.

A small party was dispatched to meet us and Chord was among them. Thavis and Brock were at work lashing cargo back onto Gort when the mage, accompanied by several armed men, greeted us."So, changed your mind about joining the assault?" The mage hovered a good six inches above the roadway, a large tan bag depending from his red robe's sash. Several of the soldiers carried thick, hard leather sacks, and wore at least one glove each. I assumed they had been removing the caltrops from the pass, and said as much.

Chord snorted. "Very observant. Yes, Wayland is retrieving them for use with the catapults. I had to call for my acolytes to come. We are rendering the slaughtered Burlies for dust, then using the dust to close the portals. Haven't had such a supply of dust ever, at my call. The corpses they pile to the sides, to be picked up by travois at the rear and taken to the Dervin end. The dust is brought back here by messenger. I trust your mission was successful?"

"You can tell Wayland we crippled the fort to the left of the pass. If he is careful, he should be able to overcome what remains of it. The right hand Stockade remains intact, so he would be wise to bear to the left, and plan to stay out of range of it."

Chord barked, "You can tell him yourself. I am to bring you to the Duke. Orton and I told him your kidnappers lost control of the Golem, and you were able to escape with it and wreak havoc, spy for him, and clear the pass. He has decided not to question this too closely, as it has all worked to his interest, so expect to be lauded, and have a good story covering your movements since leaving Wayland's dungeon ready. Something," Chord flipped his hands in the air, "worthy of ballad. Everyone likes a good war story."

"Sounds more like a job for Thavis. He can speak for us, and I will nod and make positive noises."

Chord smiled. "An excellent idea, one of your better ones, I think. Sticking mostly to the facts, as you can, would be best. Straighten this out now, for we will have to be off directly."

I conferred with Brock and Thavis briefly.

"Ah, yes!" The eyes of Thavis lit in anticipation. "It would be my privilege to detail the heroic epic of our glory to Wayland. In fact," Thavis hesitated, a troubled look tainting his fine features. "I admit to this sin, that I have, good William...I have, humbly, thought much on an appropriate lay or two." Worried, he quickly added, "Tis your story to tell, I know, but it is in my nature to dwell on such things. I will do this honor, and gladly! 'Tis a tale for the ages! A banner of honor for the kingdom's history! A lay bards will sing for the next century, I vow it!"

His enthusiasm frightened me. "Just stick to the facts, and try to suggest we were able to recover control of the Golem after my abduction," I advised. Thavis was in rapture, however, and my words did not seem to make much of a dent in his thoughts.

"Ah, the SPIRITING AWAY," he said. I could almost hear the capital letters hanging in the air. Doubtless Thavis had given this a great deal of thought.

"Tis just an allegory of our quest, I think." He cleared his throat and sang out. Upon the clay a glamor set,

To snatch our Bill away.

To carry him beneath the earth,

in a hero's grave to Lay.

But mighty Will did smite it, with a rod of thunder glass

and the weird was shattered, the clay rebound at last.

"Enough!" I winced. "Quietly please, Thavis." The boisterous tune had attracted the attention of the soldiers, who prior had all but ignored us in order to pick up the few remaining caltrops here.

Such ballads as Thavis was expending his time on were a substitution for television, it seemed. I had the impression, reinforced by later questioning, that the creation, and presentation of such ballads was an honor and requisite of court protocol. It was history.

"I don't remember anything about a thunder rod," I groused.

Thavis looked alarmed. "But certes, and you told me the glass rod, formed of thunder from Mount Esh were broken as you were carried out by Gort from under earth. You emptied the broken pieces of it out of your sack on the road to Dervin, remember? I saved one out, as evidence." Thavis rustled in his own pouch, pulling forth a piece of the fused glass.

I gave up. Thavis seemed to have everything in hand, and was glad for the honor, so I left it at that. Chord smirked at me. "Well, you two seem to have settled on...something. Shall we be off?"

Wayland had positioned himself about a quarter of the way back into the march, where he could still discern the front units of the moving column. Sir Conner, and a few other military notables, paced alongside. Behind walked a group of younger boys in bright blue tabards carrying standards bearing the ducal sigil. Occasionally one of the notables would beckon, and a boy would come forward at a dead run to receive a few words, then sprint away either up or down the column's length.

A corps of his personal guard, heavily armed men, surrounded this section of the parade. Acknowledging our approach, Wayland signaled his men to let us near. "Our kidnapped hero returns. If you had not just been told of your change in status, before your disappearance, I would have suspected an escape."

The words were said softly, but hard eyes raked us as they were spoken.

"However, your worth and actions seem proven. We will be stopping soon, to reorganize for the assault. Unless you have urgent intelligence to offer, we will wait until then to hear your full story. Join the march somewhere behind the pages. Chord, you must return to clearing the way."

Chord stated the few items I had mentioned about the forts. Wayland seemed grimly pleased, and had him repeat it to his staff. I went over my proposal to sap the estates walls, and Wayland, looking a little surprised, agreed. We did not stop walking at any time during all of this.

Dismissed, we dropped back to behind the group of banner-carrying runners where room was made for us. I asked the mage about the Duke's reaction to my plan.

Chord chuckled. "Sapping is not a popular sport. Tunnels collapse, worse, sappers want theirs to. If you are discovered, you die. If you are successful, you can easily die. If you aren't successful, and nothing falls down, you look incompetent. It's not considered a career advancing duty. Since you are using the Golem, I won't make issue of it."

"I understand there are not many like him. Why?"

Chord chuckled. "My boy, there are only perhaps three mages who can visualize the entire essence of what a Golem is. Orton is one. They are not part of our heritage, but come from a few arcane scraps of knowledge passed down from before our advent here. Also, they are disruptive to our workers sensibilities and cost lives, lost to burlie hunts, to pay for. If there had been fewer creatures available at the time, you would not have Gort. The last one was raised by my father, dead now, some thirty years ago."

Chord barked at his men, and set off again towards the column's front. We trudged on for another hour or so, then the army ground to a halt. The group of runners suddenly depleted by half, scattering up and down the length of the march. Thavis, still in a cheery mood, called one of the pages to see if a "Teller's Harp" could be found. I was not sure what this referred to. My immediate interest centered on one of the water bearers who was moving up the stopped column in our direction.