Within a few minutes they were assessing their situation. Darus had a broken arm, his left, and several substantial bruises from being knocked out of the Pra-Moresh's way. Additionally his left leg was either sprained or broken. He could stand but he could barely walk at all.

Nolan was unharmed. Vonders was unscathed. Tolpen remained uninjured as well, though he was still extremely shaken. She did not think he'd been as prepared as he'd thought he would be for the actual sight of a Pra-Moresh. Certainly she had not been ready for it. Stradly Limm was bruised across one half of his body. His right side had been facing the monster when the explosion occurred and his flesh on that side was mottled and looked as if he'd been struck with a hammer across every inch of flesh. He was able to walk. He was able to stand. He did not look as if he was able to think clearly and his speech was slurred.

Maun was the worst of them. She did not think he would live through his injuries. One of the Pra-Moresh's teeth, a massive thing as big as her hand, had been blown into his stomach by the explosion. And while she watched, Nolan and Volpers did their best to pull the bloodied thing from his insides without tearing him up any further.

For almost an hour they worked at sewing his insides back in place, neither of them speaking more than in single words, mostly communicating in gestures for one item or another from a small surgical kit.

Maun was a quiet man, but he screamed a great deal as they worked on mending him. Eventually he fainted from the work and the silence was almost worse.

The horses were gone.

Darus doubted they would return. There was nothing for them in the Blasted Lands and they likely had only stayed because they were well trained, but now that they had broken free there was little to make him believe they would come back to the area.

By the time they were done with the surgery and had recovered from the madness of the moment the sun had slithered its way down toward the west again. The darkness would come back soon and none of them were in a state to attempt the Mounds.

Ultimately Tega decided they needed warmth and safety more than anything else. Though it was cramped in the extreme, all of them slept in the wagon that night.

Maun was still alive in the morning. The work that Nolan and Volpers did was clean and efficient. Tega checked the wounds herself and used what ingredients she had to make a poultice to keep the wound clean from infection and to aid in healing.

None of them said anything. None of them blamed her, but she blamed herself. She had lacked the proper control. She had failed to restrain the power she wielded and when she could stand it no more she apologized.

"I'm so sorry you were injured, Maun and you, Stradly. I did not mean to do that."

Stradly had recovered a great deal from his earlier shock. He shook his head and winced. "Sorry for saving us then?"

"What?"

"We were there, Mistress Tega. We saw the thing coming. We was as good as dead. Nothing to be done for it but to watch that evil thing eat our guts out. You saved us."

Maun nodded and spoke more softly than usual. "Aye. Might have been a trifle rough in the saving, but that you did. Only a fool would think otherwise."

Nolan nodded his head. "You were a ways off. I know how large the thing looked to you, but from where we were it was a lot bigger."

Vonders nodded. "Seen the head of one of those in the Duke's palace once. And saw the corpse of one that died of old age I guess. We'd have taken it back for the possible prize, but it was too rotted and too heavy and we had enough salvage. The one we saw yesterday was bigger than either. I pray they don't make them any bigger."

Tega had no true response to their words but thanked them with a smile and a nod of her head.

"So." Nolan looked around at the group and then looked rather pointedly at the door to the wagon. "When do we go exploring. Or do we with what's happened?"

Maun was the one who answered. "We go. We have to. We've given our word to the wizard and we are on a mission to help the Empire."

Tega looked at the man and studied him. "Yes. That's the truth of it. But we go tomorrow and not today. Today we recover and we prepare." There were some who were injured among them and more than that she was exhausted. She had never used so much energy at once before and though she was young in years she felt nearly ancient after the effort involved.

Maun nodded his head. "Tomorrow then. That should be soon enough."

There was nothing more to say after that.

Chapter Twelve.

There was no time in the morning to consider the magnitude of his night with Delil. The sound of great horns blaring out in the open echoed into his sleeping chamber and Andover awoke with a groan, sitting up in the cot and wondering for just a moment where he was. He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and barely caught himself before disaster. His hands felt, yes, and they moved, yes, but they were still forged from iron and he had already learned the hard way that rubbing at his eyes could leave him in agony and half-blinded. That was the last thing he needed when he was on his way to meet a god.

Meet a god.

"Oh." It was the only sound he could make.

Andover rose from his bed and quickly dressed himself. The room was empty. Delil sat up and dressed just as quickly, not speaking at all. She made sure her veil was in place before she stood and then headed for the threshold of the entrance.

"I... Good luck." She left before he could respond. That was just as well, he could think of nothing to say that would not come out the wrong way. Women always confused his tongue and after this? Well, thank you hardly seemed the right words.

He ran his fingers through his hair a taking a few strands along with his gesture a and then slipped on his boots. A moment later he walked out into the bright morning sunlight and found Tusk and several others waiting for him. They were a terrifying lot and for one brief moment he feared that he'd offended them. Was Delil someone's daughter? Fiancee?

Tusk dismissed any possible worried and added new ones instead. "Andover Lashk of the Iron Hands, it is time to meet Durhallem."

He nodded his head nervously and stepped closer.

"No one faces the Daxar Taalor except on their own." Tusk's voice was not unkind. "You must walk." He pointed toward the top of the mountain so very far above them.

Without another word, Andover walked, heading toward his first meeting with one of the gods of the Seven Forges.

The palace was an endless hive of activity most days. There were people moving about almost constantly. Between advisors, guards, soldiers who were being trained as guards, chancellors, representatives from different kingdoms that sought to see the head of the Empire and all of the souls who took care to make every detail of the work seem effortless, it would have appeared to many that the people living and working in the palace never slept.

That was not true in most cases but just at the present it was more accurate.

Desh Krohan came back to the palace and moved directly to the throne room, not bothering to head for his usual stop at his quarters or anywhere else. When he got there Nachia Krous was already waiting and in discussion with Merros Dulver. The general was going over the maps with the Empress, showing her in careful detail the layout of the land as best they knew it and the places where he thought it likely they could manage to find access to the Blasted Lands and thus the Seven Forges.

Desh took one look at the maps and sighed. "We should prepare for war, yes, we have been preparing for war, but I believe we have a few other matters to attend to first."

"Desh, how very nice to see you." Nachia's voice was deliberately too bright and cheerful.

The wizard shook his head. "The Sa'ba Taalor are offering us a chance to parley."

Merros seemed genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"One of them was waiting for us. Had likely been waiting for a few days by the time I arrived where we were." He looked at both of them for a moment to see if they understood. They did not. "She was literally waiting in the ashes, buried in the ground a few inches down. I would have never seen her had she not made her presence known."

"Oh."

"Exactly. It was an offer of peace and a reminder that for them the notion of sneaking in and causing mayhem is a minor thing."

"She could have killed you then?" Nachia's voice was small.

Desh shook his head. "Not likely. I am better defended than most. But she certainly could have killed your brother."

Nachia did not respond except to shift on the throne.

"The point is this. We have a chance to argue for peace before this gets worse, yes, but we also have a chance to move forward with whatever you decide to do, Nachia. We also have a chance to leave this city before it is too late."

Merros shook his head. His lips pressed together. "A nightmare of efforts, Desh, especially if your predictions are wrong."

He turned on the general and pinned him hard with his gaze. "How many people live in this city, General Dulver?"

"I'm not really sure...."

"I am. I have studied the surveys and the figures provided by the revenuers. We have almost thirty thousand people in the city of Tyrne and the surrounding areas. This is an old city and it has had a long time to grow in size. The occupation of the Summer Palace year round has already bloated the city of the last fifteen years." He waved a hand to stop the protest of Nachia. "I'm not saying there was ever anything wrong with Pathra choosing to be here instead of in Canhoon. I'm saying that the city has grown well beyond where it should have."

"I can see that. I've already discussed the need to fortify the walls, possibly to build another wall around the outer areas." Merros' voice was as calm as ever. He did a remarkable job of hiding his agitation. He was a proper soldier.

"That's only one of my points of debate here. Building a new wall would take a great deal of time and money. We have the finances, of course, but the time is a different story. The Sa'ba Taalor would parley with us in seven days."

"Seven days?" Nachia sat forward in the throne.

"Seven days," Desh nodded. And if we fail in the parley or if they decide to break their word and attack, that is only seven days' time in which to try to build a wall. We would fail."

Merros shook his head. "And even if we should fail, we don't plan on letting them come to Tyrne without preparations, without moving the armies into position."

"And what then, Merros?" Desh tried to keep his voice from rising in volume with limited success. "You said yourself our armies are not at their peak. What happens if they send four hundred of their best against the city? We have battalions ready and waiting, but they move between the proper ranks of footmen and horsemen and charge on past on those demons they ride and they attack anyone they see, armed or not. You said yourself that ten of them eliminated over a thousand people."

"Then what do you propose we do, Desh?" That was Nachia, who rose from the throne and began pacing. The seat was designed to be uncomfortable at the best of times. Her response was simply to stand and move about.

"The Sooth did not say that the Sa'ba Taalor would attack Tyrne. They said that Tyrne is a doomed place. We cannot stay here. We should evacuate the city and immediately at that. There's no proof of what will happen, but I have been in places where disaster fell. Look at the Guntha! Look at what remains of them. Look at what that very disaster did to Roathes. The entire area is abandoned. The country is gone, lost in ashes and smoke. Gods, it's as bad as the Blasted Lands..." His voice faded away on that last part.

"Desh, what it is?" Nachia's voice took on that maternal edge he sometimes heard in Pella's tones. No matter who it was, the tone annoyed him.

He bit back his distaste for her concern. "I have not been to the Blasted Lands in a very long time, but I might be on to something there. The Sa'ba Taalor would not have a problem living in Roathes. Not like most would. They are better suited for it."

"No one would willingly live in the Blasted Lands." Merros shook his head. "And as someone who has been there, I can say that with ease and know I am right."

"That's not what I'm saying, Merros. I'm saying that they could live there. There was no one else there. No one at all. Not that I saw at any rate. And I'm still trying to understand that, because Brolley and I agree that there weren't enough of the Roathians on the return trip. Unless they all went to the south and east, there should have been more.

"They wouldn't go to the south and east. They wouldn't be welcomed by the Louron and I can't see them even trying to survive in the swamps. The land there is too dangerous."

"What land?"

"Precisely my point. You either know the swamps in Louron or you sink. There aren't enough people there to work as guides and even if there were, there's no love lost between the two peoples."

"Then where did they go?" Nachia's voice was taking on a frustrated edge.

Merros shrugged. "The last we heard there were black ships coming in. After that, nothing. It's possible they're all dead or captured."

Nachia frowned and looked at Merros for clarification. "Captured?"

"The Empire has a few countries that deal with slaves. Whose to say the Sa'ba Taalor do not also deal with them?"

"Did you see any sign of slavery when you were in the Taalor Valley?"

"No. But I hardly saw all of the valley. I saw a small fraction and we were moving at a hard ride for most of that time. They are a secretive people. Just think about the veils and you can see that."

Desh shook his head. "The veils hide a deformity."

"What deformity?" Merros looked at him with a doubtful expression. In that moment Desh understood that somewhere along the way the general had been intimate with one of the people of the Seven Forges. He had no notion as to which of them and did not care, but he saw the near-dread in the man's expression.

"Nothing like the plague winds do. More like some sort of scarring. Like what the Brellar do to themselves."

Merros' body relaxed a bit. He could understand that idea well enough.

"That's not the point here in any event. The concern is what happened to the Roathians."

"Well. Perhaps that's something that should be addressed at the parley, then." Nachia spoke up, looking from one man to the other. "We have a week to consider what to do about that. We also have less time to consider moving everyone from this town if Desh is right, and much as I hate the notion of leaving, I believe we should consider the source here and prepare to move locations."

Merros looked long and hard at the Empress and nodded his head. He had likely come to the same conclusion on his own. Desh wished he could have said something to remove the sting from the matter but there was nothing he could say. The Sooth had never lied about anything, not on a deliberate level. They were sometimes confusing in what they said but there was no doubt at all what they were about in this case.

They had to abandon Tyrne and soon.

Merros sighed. "And why will we tell people that we must abandon Tyrne?"

Nachia asked, "Did the Sooth say when this great event would take place?"

"No. Only that it would be soon."

"So why don't we start by ordering the palace prepared for winter? Let it be known that I have decided to move back to Canhoon. That should start a lot of things happening by itself."

"Do you think so?" Merros wasn't completely convinced.

"Not everyone will choose to leave, but a good number will. Tyrne is a city surrounded by farmlands and one river. The industry here is mostly designed around the palace and the seat of the Empire being here. Much of it will leave when we leave and take the soldiers with us."

Desh stared at the table for a moment, not sure how to approach the subject. "It might not be enough. I was thinking we might use the situation in Roathes to our advantage. We might tell people that the desolation there is growing." He held up a hand to stop either from speaking and both looked ready to. "Not that it's an immediate threat but something that could become dangerous later. It might make those who are only considering the notion of leaving lean toward moving faster."

Nachia shook her head. "Might well start a stampede, too. Best to avoid those, I would think."

True enough.

Merros spoke up. "I think we should pull the army from the area. Move them toward Trecharch and the Wellish Steppes. Send them back toward Old Canhoon. Announce the move to the proper palace and watch what happens. I think you're right. A lot of people will move on as well. And then when we've started that action, then maybe we talk of growing desolation to move the rest of them."

"I thought we were already there." Darus' voice had taken on a plaintive tone. No one really blamed him. The way into the Mounds was hiding itself, if, in fact there actually was a way in.

The ice had thinned though it was not gone. The last roaring vibration had shaken a great deal loose, and even after spending most of two days in the wagon or the tent, nothing had come along to make the ice grow back. Nor had anything come along to remove it, come to think of it.