Relma wasn't sure why she had said what she'd said to King Tyus. She'd felt as if she'd been speaking to him about his approach in general. Except she'd only known of him doing diplomacy. Perhaps she had been speaking of his treatment of Estela?

Relma decided to stop being so detached and focus on the now.

The now soon turned miserable.

It rained half the time as they walked west along the hills. There was little water in this place, and whenever they came to pools of water, they would drink it dry. The air was chilly and the sky dark, especially when you were near the Ghost Mountains.

The Ghost Mountains were the worst. They'd come within sight of them soon, and they rose into the sky like a thousand clawed fingers. Winds howled down from them, and the trees around them moved. Speaking of trees, the closer they reached the Ghost Mountains, the nastier they became. Leaves became spikes so you could cut a hand on them.

And all the while, the army of Escor moved some ways away in their shadow. Relma spent her days healing sprained ankles and helping however she could. It felt odd; she had raised this army, but now she had faded to the background. Varsus spent his days making decisions and organizing the distribution of supplies. Reginald and his men, alongside some of De Cathe's subordinates, kept the satyrs in line. Sometimes they also negotiated with the warriors.

Everyone kept busy, and no one was happy.

Except for the satyrs, of course. All of them had brought wine with them and drank of it greatly. They drank and laughed with eachother, occasionally sparring in the camp. None seemed to care that they were being looked at with obvious distrust.

Relma hoped Estela was doing well. She felt helpless despite all she'd done. What could she do to help Estela? She supposed that depended on who she was marrying. Estela had obviously decided to go through with it. Tyus seemed utterly unreasonable, or at least dead set.

Jomas Endorean could be more reasonable.

That was why she approached Varsus one day as he led from the front. Fayn got there first. "Varsus, I need to ask, who is this Jomas Endorean?"

"The Prince of the Second Dynasty of Stormstrike," said Varsus. "They are descended from the hill clans who once dwelled in the Dusk Lands and rose in rebellion against Anoa II. They've always kept to themselves and have always sought to break free. Even after Harlenor United broke apart, they kept trying."

"Right, that doesn't answer my question," said Fayn.

"The Endorean family is the second dynasty to rule Stormstrike. It was after they wiped out the last one, the Stormstrikes. But the Endoreans broke free during the Escorian Civil War. They were only brought to vassal status," said Varsus. "Uncle and I have been expecting a full-scale war for years."

"Okay, but who is Jomas Endorean?" asked Fayn.

Varsus sighed. "He is... not bright."

"Not bright?" asked Relma.

Varsus shrugged. "From what I've heard, he is a good fighter, and I met him once. He is reasonably nice but generally the last person to arrive at a given conclusion. He misses obvious things and is somewhat slow."

"Has Estela ever met him?" asked Fayn.

"You have known Estela as long as myself, Fayn. You tell me," said Varsus,

Fayn frowned. "Well, it just seems a bit abrupt, is all. He ought to have let her meet the groom first."

"I'm afraid that King Tyan regards such things as a mere formality," said a kind old voice.

At that moment, an old man stepped out of the shadow of the hills. The old man's long white beard was a bit longer. However, his face was smooth as ever, and his gnarled staff tapped the ground as he walked forward.

"Aren!" cried Relma before running toward him.

"Gail Arengeth? You're here," said Varsus, voice cold. "What is going on here?"

"Nothing pleasant," said Arengeth. "Though you seem to have provided some good news."

"Did you really arrange that marriage?" asked Relma.

"It was my only option," said Arengeth regretfully. "I needed to mend the relations between Endorean and Vortegex. A political marriage will cement ties between them. At least long enough to fend off the Dragon Empire.

"I sent a messenger to Gel Carn to inform you of it, but they must have been waylaid along the way. Most unfortunate, he was a good man."

"You should have asked Estela first," said Relma.

"It is Tyan's right to choose who he wills for his daughter," said Arengeth. "Just as it was his choice not to inform her until now. I'm doing all I can to ensure Escor doesn't fall to pieces. If Endorean and Vortegex defeat the Dragon Empire together. That may create the foundation of a new Escor. One that isn't tormented by endless civil war."

"Why does the Dragon Empire want to get past the Pass of Bones anyway?" asked Fayn. "They've been repulsed a dozen times over the centuries."

Arengeth looked up. "Fayn, you seem to be trying to earn the position you bought."

"I already did," said Fayn.

Arengeth frowned. "In any case, the Dragon Empire has a nobility entirely consisting of Red Dragons. Each one controls a certain amount of land and is forbidden from killing one another. Since Dragons never die of old age, the empire must expand.

"Either that or exile members of its nobility to foreign lands. I've dealt with several of those exiles.

"The Pass of Dragon Bones is the only way to the north. Not unless you head west to the borders of Sorn."

"But why can't they just fly over?" asked Relma.

"Fly over the Ghost Mountains?" asked Arengeth. Everyone gave her a look, and Relma realized she'd said something very foolish.

"Oh, right, of course," said Relma, remembering the stories she'd heard of those mountains. No one lived in those domains, and everyone held it in terror. Even Erik the Voyager had not managed to cross it.

At that moment, Reginald rushed up. "Varsus, we've still got no word from the supply caravans the Dust Elves promised us. The satyrs brought their own supplies, but I'm concerned we'll run out."

Varsus sighed. "Send out foraging parties to look for food. Satyrs are good at such things and keep them moving. But keep them away from the north. There are plenty of plants growing in this region."

"Why does no one live here?" asked Relma, looking around at the empty wilds. You could see vast tracts of bushes and fields on either side of the camp. Yet she realized she hadn't seen one farm. "I know we're near the Ghost Mountains, but couldn't there be some farms?"

"The realm itself works against those who try to farm," said Aren. "I suspect Laevian has chosen this land as one of her own. Those who do settle here tend to have bad luck at best. A few hunters eke out a living, but they cut no wood unless it has already fallen."

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"Speaking of which," said Reginald, "I've been talking with the satyrs. They are here to die. Their primary hope is to be killed surrounded by thousands of corpses. What if we win without taking too many losses?

"They'll still be here?"

"We could unleash them on the Dragon Empire and let them rape, pillage, and burn indefinitely," said Fayn. "That will kill them and weaken our enemies."

"That's a bit ruthless," said Relma.

"Do you want them destroying our enemies or our friends?" asked Fayn.

"I would not call King Tyus and myself friends," said Varsus, sounding faintly offended.

"I'd rather not resort to that," said Arengeth. "Even if there is no other way, the Dragon Empire is nearly impossible to capture. Dragons are not easy to defeat, and hundreds are in the Dragon Empire. There will almost certainly be an easier target." He paused. "Where is Pandora? I meant to speak with her?"

"She disappeared," said Fayn with a scoff. "As usual. Something about contacts."

"Did she say when she'd be back?" asked Aren.

"No," said Fayn with a sigh. "Ajax went out on ahead."

"He went to the pass?" asked Arengeth. "He might be shot on sight. Escor has hated his kind for many years."

"What do you mean 'his kind?'" asked Relma.

"I meant to say that Escor has bad blood with the Broods of Telix," said Arengeth.

"What happens if he is killed?" asked Fayn.

"...Then we have a serious problem," said Aren.

"Don't worry," said Relma. "Ajax slipped past all the guards in Gel Carn when he first kidnapped me. He'll be able to slip over some wall."

"Slip over?" asked Aren.

"Yeah," said Relma, "he said he was going to scout the Dragon Empire."

"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Varsus.

"Ajax does whatever he wants," said Relma. "And it wasn't like it mattered anyway. He said he'd meet back up with us."

"This still leaves the matter of the satyrs," said Varsus.

"I say we use the satyrs as arrow fodder," said Fayn. "Give them all the worst jobs and send them into every hellish fight we want to spare the men from." Drawing out her axe she brought it down and cleaved it into the barren earth.

"That is not tactically sound," said Varsus, adjusting his cloak. "And I liked your first suggestion better. Lucius greatly controls the Road of Ancient Stone, and these satyrs dwell within it. Let's do all we can to conserve our forces.

"Once we are victorious, we will seek to do as much damage to the Dragon Empire as possible. Historically, there have been several successful raids into it. So if properly commanded, we could cause great damage."

"That sounds fun to me," said Reginald. "If we coordinate with the Escorian army, we might be able to obliterate their ability to raise armies."

"Do you think we could try to devise a strategy that is not based on sacking towns and killing off our own men?" asked Relma.

"They want to die," said Fayn with a shrug.

Arengeth sighed. "I find this discussion distasteful, Gabriel. But it is a question we can contemplate later. For now, the Pass of Dragon Bones lies ahead."

Relma could only hope the Pass of Dragon Bones would be more pleasant than this place. She suspected she'd be disappointed.

On they went until they saw a gap in the mountains. The pass was sheer, and all the ground here was burned and barren. Several villages could be seen before it, and there, at the mouth, was a long stone wall with many buildings. It was a fortress stretching between the mountains.

Flames were rising, and men were fighting on top of it. The banner of Escor was shaking alongside another. It was a yellow banner with the symbol of a spear passing through a dragon, and men were fighting to defend it.

"The castle is under attack!" said Reginald

"Forward, quickly!" cried Varsus, drawing his sword. "We must reinforce the walls! To the Pass of Dragon Bones!"

And then there was a charge. Relma went for her sword and ran forward with Varsus and the others. As the armies surged forward en masse, Aren raised a hand, and a great wind kicked up behind them. It pushed them forward, even as the wall was nearly taken.

Then the satyrs reached it. Howling and screaming, they surged up the open stairs and tore into the attackers. Relma was glad Varsus had instructed them as to who they should be fighting. Otherwise, she was sure they'd have killed everyone on the wall. Even as she neared the steps, she saw them tearing into the attackers.

One of their corpses was thrown down from the wall and landed at her feet, even as she slowed. He was a muscular, tanned man wearing only a metal mask, a loincloth, and a reverse sickle blade in one hand. His stomach had been carved open.

Relma felt sick but looked up to where the satyrs were streaming across the wall, turning the tide. They might need her; Lightning Trail alone could inspire them to victory, though not her. Raising it, she rushed up the steps and found Varsus fighting with one of the enemies.

Before Relma could think, someone cut the man down from behind. He wore yellow and had a brown stubble. He looked at Varsus, then at the combat. Even now, more of the enemy were streaming up to fight. The enemy forces were vast and seemed to be pressing up the walls.

"Satyrs? What is the meaning of this?" asked the man.

"We're here to reinforce you," said Varsus.

"To death and blood!" cried a satyr from the fray. "For Lucius, the Ancestor!"

"For Harlenor Reunited!" cried Varsus, raising his sword and rushing into the fray.

"For Harlenor Reunited!" cried the man with a shrug.

"Lightning Trail! Lightning Trail for Harlenor!" cried Relma, making a show of rushing in so people could see the sword. She immediately started looking for people to heal, ducking under sword swings. She made her way through the fray as best she could.

There were plenty of wounded and dead as well.

She crossed the wall and came up another set of stairs to a gatehouse. There were the two gatehouses, and men were fighting all around them. One man fell back with his throat slashed, and she stooped to heal him. As she did, a tan man stabbed her with a spear. Relma parried the first thrust, but the second went into her leg.

Screaming, she looked up as the man drew the spear to finish her.

And then a shadow loomed over him. The man turned around, and then a mace hit him. His head sailed into the distance in a shattered mess as blood spewed from the stump. Even as his body collapsed, an armored giant of a man turned and used his mace. He swung it around, and with each stroke, he smashed men to pieces.

Armor was useless against him. Shields simply broke without even impeding his blows. And every impact reduced men to bloody chunks as he waded through silently. Where he went, the enemy fled.

Then he turned and moved toward her. Relma remembered her wound and tried to heal it as he kneeled down. Even kneeling, he towered over her, and one of his hands seemed like it could crush her skull. He touched her, and the wound healed. But his hand clenched on her shoulder, and she winced in pain.

He drew back and removed his helmet. Beyond was revealed an expressionless, brown-haired face with dull eyes. "I am sorry. Mother tells me I should warn others before doing that. Who are you?"

Relma got up, raising Lightning Trail. "I'm Relma Artorious, the Heir of Kings. Who are you?"

He looked at her warily and put his helmet back on. "... You're not supposed to be here. The Heir of Kings is a legend, so you don't exist."

"Well, we always have. It's more of a title than a person," said Relma.

"I hope so," said the man.

Relma looked around and realized that the enemy had been repulsed. They fled down the ladders and away from the wall, and the satyrs were fast behind. Looking at this giant, she realized his face had looked young. About Estela's age. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jomas Endorean," said the giant. "I'm here to help fight."

Relma frowned. "But aren't you supposed to be getting married?"

"I got a letter that said that," said Jomas, voice full as he kneeled by a wounded man. "But this seemed more important."

"The whole Alliance relies on your presence," said Relma, joining him in healing people.

"Alliances break. We should fight," said Jomas.

So began the healing. As Relma walked through the bodies, she saw the signs of Jomas' rampage everywhere. Wherever she looked, dozens of corpses smashed and marred by his mace. They lay all along the wall, and men stared at him in awe. Even the satyrs looked impressed.

"Jomas Endorean fights like a monster," said a man. "How can... how can anyone do this?"

"He's a bit simple," said another. "but, well, very good in a fight."

"I've seen people with the blood of gods do less," said another man.

As Relma worked at the wounded, she looked from the wall. There, she saw the satyrs and many other forces meeting the enemy. Varsus, Fayn, De Cathe, and Reginald could be seen at the front, those who had come with them fighting. Once more, the enemy army broke and fled.

The satyrs rushed after them, even as Varsus called the Harlenorians to a halt. Heedless of the orders, the hordes of satyrs rushed toward the edge of the pass. Beyond it, Relma could see green.

And then there came the beat of sings. From the clouds above descended fantastic red beasts like Wrynncurth. But far larger; the smallest were more than three times as large. Their wings reached nearly as far as the edge of the pass as they dove low. Opening their mouths, they unleashed a wave of flame on the satyrs. The entire front ranks were burned to cinder in mere moments.

The others scrambled backward quickly as the dragons swooped back. The armies reformed and fled back. But the dragons drew back and perched at the edge of the pass as the men ran back.

"Damned dragons!" snapped a satyr on the wall. "Fight on the ground like men!"

"Why wouldn't they just attack this fortress?" asked Relma, feeling sick.

"Look," said Jomas, pointing down the wall. Relma followed his hand and saw what he was motioning at. The entire wall was lined with heavy machines bristling with spears. "Those can pierce dragon armor. Aren enchanted them to always strike true. You'd have to destroy those before the Reds could try for a pass."

Aren. Relma ought to go find him. "Thank you. I have to go."

She wandered through the wall, healing the wounded wherever she found them. Eventually, she came to Aren, speaking with a soldier. "Where is your commander?" She heard him say.

"Commander Telbus is dead," said the man. "A Tharatan stabbed him. I pulled him out, but he was dead before I could get him to the healers."

"Then who is in charge?" asked Aren. "Where is his second in command?"

"Dead as well," said the man. "Most people on the wall are dead. We were hard-pressed.

Especially with Tyus pulling off a lot of men to try and stop you."

Where was Aunt Pan? She should have been here. Aren sighed long and hard. "Very well then, I suppose I must take command myself."

"...Can you do that?" asked Relma.

"I don't have authority overlords," said Aren. "But the Dragon Watch was established by me. They answer to me as well." He sighed. "There you are." Then Aren shook his head sadly and looked at the man. "Who is the highest-ranking officer left alive?"

"Captain Tren De Cathe," said the man. "He's in the healing rooms."

"Then I'll see to him at once," said Aren. "Relma, come with me and help me heal any remaining."

Relma hurried behind him as he made his way off the wall and to a door built into the gatehouse. As he knocked, Relma shifted Lightning Trail beside her. "Who is the Dragon Watch?"

"An organization I established some decades ago to protect this pass," said Aren. "Or was it centuries? Whatever the case, they operate independently of any lord. And they are forbidden from fighting Harlenorians."

"Why?" asked Relma.

"During the Civil War, we were afraid the Dragon Empire would conquer us while we were divided," said Aren. "They almost did, so I was asked for help. This was my way of helping. Though Pandora always felt it was the wrong move."

"What did she feel was the right move?" asked Relma.

"It was a terrible idea and not at all pleasant," said Aren, opening the door.

"Where is Aunt Pan?" asked Relma. "I haven't seen her all day?"

"I sent her on another errand," said Aren. "We generally don't stay in the same place for very long. Two lords here have been having a dispute, and we need someone to mediate. Since I am needed here, the duty fell to here."

In they went, and then there was a shrill woman's scream.

"That came from the healing room," said Aren. "Follow me and keep Lightning Trail close."