They were up and moving at first light. The storm had let up during the night, the blizzard dying down to flurries. Apparently even an immortal dragon couldn’t maintain a storm of that power forever. Damien hoped the Ice Queen would need a nice long rest; being able to see where you were walking made a nice change.

They’d planned their route to the supply depots carefully so as not to waste any time, but the power Damien felt last night lay well off their chosen path. Whatever was generating the power had stopped some time during the night, before resuming its slow, steady progress at dawn. The others grumbled about abandoning their mission, but Jen pointed out their mission included scouting enemy movements. Whatever Damien sensed almost had to be something to do with the enemy forces.

“How much further?” Edward asked.

Damien shook his head. “It’s moving again. Not as fast as us, but steadily south. If whatever it is doesn’t speed up we should catch it in an hour, two at the most.”

“It better be worthwhile,” Talon said. “We could have reached the second depot by now.”

They continued on in silence. Whatever they thought about going off course, the squad members were too professional to give their position away to a potential enemy.

An hour and twenty minutes later they reached a snow and ice covered ridge. The power he’d felt earlier screamed in his head and all around them flecks of bright-blue soul force streaked the air. It wasn’t far now.

Damien motioned the others to stop. They gathered around and he whispered, “It’s right over the ridge.”

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They eased up and poked their heads over the crest of the ridge. In a valley below them a column of thousands of ogres and ice trolls marched shoulder to shoulder. None of them gave off much power individually. Damien saw nothing that looked like a sorcerer or warlord, though ogres and trolls all had stronger soul forces than normal humans. It was what accounted for the ogres’ great strength and the trolls’ rapid healing. Even so, it wasn’t enough to account for the power that emanated from the army below. The question was, what did?

They ducked back down and Jen pulled a rough map of the territory out of her tunic and unfolded it. She touched the map and said in a low voice, “We’re about here. There’s nothing on the map to indicate a valley exists here. Nevertheless that’s a third army and judging from its direction of travel it’s headed for the unguarded pass. We need to warn General Kord he’s going to have company.”

“I can get the message to him if you have pencil and paper to write on,” Damien said.

Rhys rummaged in his ever-present satchel and pulled out a stubby pencil and a two-inch square of parchment. Jen nodded her thanks, scribbled a note, and rolled the paper up. Damien conjured a bird and when Jen held out the note, had it grasp the rolled-up parchment in its beak. The bird raced into the air, far faster than a flesh-and-blood animal.

Damien conjured a rectangle so he could see through the bird’s eyes and guide it. Ten minutes later the camp came into view. He guided the bird to the general’s tent. The two pages standing outside the tent gaped at the bird hovering in the air in front of them.

The pages looked at each other, then back. One of them must have noticed the note gripped in the bird’s beak as they pulled the flap open for it. The bird flew in. The general sat in a camp chair eating a bowl of something that steamed in the cool air. Damien guided the bird to land on the edge of his bowl.

That might not have been the best idea as the general sucked in a surprised breath and choked on his breakfast. When the coughing subsided he took the scrap of paper and unrolled it. A few seconds later his eyes widened.

Damien had only linked his sight to the construct, but he was good enough at reading lips to know the general asked if the information on the paper was accurate. The bird nodded its head. General Kord ran out of the tent, his food forgotten.

Damien let the construct dissolve. He’d done everything he could for now.