"Aye," Thad replied. "This'll pretty much finish it if they've left garrisons in place in the towns they've taken. The Confederation won't be able to ship food nor anything else north if they hold Santir; they'll control all the shipping that comes up the river as well." He cocked his head. "You don't think they'd come across into Termina, do you?"

"Doubtful," Vara said. "It would mean dragging the elves into the war; the Sovereign would have to be barking mad to consider fighting on two fronts."

Something about that bothered Cyrus, though he couldn't put his finger on what. "Nothing about this war has made sense, not a thing from the outset until now." He looked east once more and could see the billowing smoke above the skyline. "We should go. Thad...keep watch. If ever there was a moment to strike when we're distracted, this is it."

The warrior nodded. "Wait here a minute and I'll get a few others to go with you."

"No," Vara said. "Let's not wait."

"Sure, it's only your life," Cyrus said. "Nothing so important that we'd bother to take five minutes and gather a few people to protect you from the countless assassins that want you dead."

"Exactly." She began stalking down the street without him. "Come along."

Cyrus shot a pleading look at Thad. "Tell them to hurry." He ran to catch up with her.

When they arrived at the Entaras'iliarad, they blended into the crowd, Cyrus taking care to keep a hand clutched around Vara's arm at all times. She looked back at him, giving him with a smile that cut the cold air. "Feeling particularly protective now, are we? Could it be you're anticipating something at the conclusion of all this?" Her smile was teasing.

"Could be. It has been a while." His reply was curt, and infused with tension.

She looked away. "You're worried about the Confederation; about the outcome of this battle."

He hesitated. "This does not bode well for Reikonos. They're losing a good portion of their food supply and the dark elves will be well positioned to harrass any shipping that comes up the river bound for Confederation lands."

"You're worried it will come to a siege?" People edged around them on all sides, but the noise of the crowd made it unlikely anyone could hear them. "The dark elves are still at considerable distance from your capital and facing the toughest defenders your people have."

"Aye, but the humans haven't won a battle since the outset of the war." Cyrus felt the uncomfortable ache of his shoulder for the first time in days. "When you lose long enough, the momentum shifts against you and it gets hard to see a path to victory."

"If the Council of Twelve has summoned Endeavor to their defense they'll have brought Amarath's Raiders and Burnt Offerings into the fold as well." She spoke with assurance, and he realized she was attempting to be comforting. "An army of one hundred thousand would fall to defeat against a guild with one-tenth their strength. No nation possesses magic users in the numbers guilds do, and being able to heal wounds and resurrect fighters presents a decisive advantage in combat."

"We don't know that the dark elves don't have guilds of their own to summon to service." The buildings around the avenue had ice frosted on the panes and a thin layer lay over the gutters, causing people to slip, slowing the progress of the crowd. Cyrus could see the bridge rising in the distance. "They could have a hundred guilds fighting for them."

"Doubtful. But I believe they have at least one." He looked at her quizzically and she answered, "Goliath."

He swore, loudly enough that it attracted attention, shocked looks on the faces of nearby elves. "That's where they ended up? I should have known. But I thought the Sovereign of Saekaj didn't forgive his transgressors."

"Apparently he does when you bring an army of several thousand along with you."

They struggled along for a few more minutes, buffeted by the throng of elves around them. Cyrus took care not to use his strength and armor to plow through unimpeded. Vara was not so reluctant.

"Out of the way," she said, shoving aside an elven man.

He stumbled and turned to say something to her, anger writ on his features, when he stopped. "My apologies, shelas'akur. This one did not intend to be in your way." He bowed and spread his arms, using them to push people out of her way as he scooted back. "Make way for the shelas'akur!" The crowd began to part before them.

"Bloody right," she said under her breath. She turned to Cyrus. "I was never much for abusing my status, but occasionally it comes in handy."

"Yes," Cyrus said, voice tight. "A brilliant time to draw attention to yourself, when there are people about who want you dead."

"Please. If I waited to draw attention to myself until no one wanted me dead, I'd never say a word."

The crowd parted. Cyrus looked back constantly, trying to see if the protectors Thad was sending were nearby, but he could not see anything through the crowd. When he looked forward, the span of the bridge blocked his view save for the black smoke filling the eastern sky.

As they drew close to the river, Cyrus felt something small and white land on his cheek. Then another, and another. He ran his gauntlet where it landed and drew his finger to look more closely at it. "Snow?" he murmured aloud.

"No," Vara replied, rubbing her own cheek where some had landed. "Ash." A black smear remained, dampening her usually pale complexion. "From the fires in Santir."

His reaction was visceral and unexpected, a sudden tightening of the muscles in his guts. I know they're burning the town and plundering everything of value, but the thought of it... He shook his head in disgust as they followed the road along the river, and the smell of the smoke overwhelmed him. The scent of it was so thick in the air that it filled his nose and mouth, leaving an ashy taste on his tongue.

"Thank Vidara there's not wind today," he heard a passerby say. He had to agree with that; if there had been wind, it would likely have come off the river, delivering so much smoke that breathing would have been well nigh impossible. As it was, more ash streamed down as the fires grew. Although smoke hung over Santir, it hung mostly over the far side of town. The river was still visible, small floes of thin ice on the banks of the dark waters of the river Perda.

The loud voices quieted at the edge of the river and held almost a funereal air. Grim realization set in on those watching their neighboring city burn; the homes, shops and citizens of Santir consumed by the flames and turned loose into the air in the columns of black that blotted out the sky. Cyrus looked across the water from the railing at the raised street that ran parallel to the river. A hundred feet below was a host of docks accomodating the ships that navigated the river. Stairs cut into the side of the riverbank led to the shoreside quay. The wharf was filled with elves observing the destruction.

"I can't see," Vara said. "You, move." Her voice held such command that people moved without even looking at her.

"Not much to see," Cyrus said. Being taller than the crowd had advantages. Across the river, the dark elven army still held in perfect formation near one of the dockside roads in Santir. "Looks like they've got forces massing by the river after marching through the town." He shook his head. "Santir is all wood construction; it's going to burn fast." And along with it goes the last route for half of Reikonos's supply of grain.

"The humans never stood a chance," Cyrus overheard someone say. Vara shoved someone out of the way and a few muffled utterances of aggravation were replaced by quiet breathings of "shelas'akur" in utter reverence.

Vara's metal gauntlets clanked as they wrapped around the cold metal railing and she looked across the river, then closed her eyes. "They never did, you know." She opened her eyes and turned to him. "We were through there not long ago and they had barely a garrison of guards. That dark elven host has to be-"

"A hundred thousand," came a voice from behind them. Cyrus turned to see Endrenshan Odellan, a few soldiers with him moving citizens back from Cyrus and Vara. "At least, I'm told." He joined them at the rail. "The King had our riders overfly them a few days ago and they got an estimate before the archers took a few of them out of the air."

"What?" Cyrus blinked at the Termina Captain.

"Flying mounts," Odellan replied, casting his gaze over the water. "Riders on griffons and such, you know." He pointed to the haze of smoke above Santir. Cyrus squinted and saw small figures flying around the clouds of smoke. "We thought they were going north because the march of the army indicated they were heading for the crossing hundreds of miles north of here." The Endrenshan frowned. "Our army rode on that assumption-and they took most of my garrison with them."

Cyrus felt his stomach drop. "You mean your army isn't in Termina?"

Odellan shrugged as though he were trying to be indifferent. "We still have a garrison. And it's not as though the dark elves intend to strike Termina; it'd be an act of war."

Cyrus felt a chill unrelated to the air and leaned toward Odellan. "How many soldiers do you have left in the city?"

Odellan stared out at the water. "Five thousand. Not enough to defend it."

"My gods." A swell of awe and sickness ran through Cyrus and he held tight to the railing as the odd feeling he couldn't quantify came crashing into place. He remembered the words spoken by Andren at Sanctuary only two weeks earlier; it felt like a year had passed.

"Their army came in, all lined up in neat rows, and once they realized there wasn't anyone to defend the village, they just ran wild. Tore up everything in sight, killing the men, dragging away the women, burning everything and stealing what they could carry."

"They're going to cross the bridge." Cyrus's words came as a whisper, but Odellan and Vara both snapped their heads to look at him. He pointed to the massing army on the opposite shore. "Something Andren told me-when they sack a town, they unleash their army, they don't keep it in formation." He sifted through memories of refugees at Sanctuary, remembering similar stories of the dark elven army going wild, burning towns and villages. "Why keep them in disciplined rows unless...?" He let his voice trail off.

"Unless they plan on them going somewhere else." Odellan looked suddenly ill and Cyrus watched the guard captain's hand lash out and his mailed fist hit the railing. "I've heard the same tales," he said, almost in a whisper. "We have no hope of turning them back; not with what we have to fight with."

"Then what do we do?" Vara's eyes were wide. "Termina has a million people and the dark elves are hardly shy about killing civilians; their army tends to seek them out to offer a warning to anyone who would oppose them."

"The body count from their crossing will be astronomical," Odellan said, ashen. "We have no time to spare-"

Odellan brought his hand down on the railing once more, creating a noise so loud that everyone in earshot turned to look at him. He turned and stepped onto the railing, boosting himself an extra few feet into the air. Raising his voice, he addressed the crowd, his words loud enough to echo for several blocks. "Good people! The dark elves intend to invade Termina." A moment of silence was followed by mutterings through the crowd. "The city must empty! As Endrenshan and the ranking representative of King Danay the First, I hereby order the evacuation of Termina; abandon your belongings and leave at once! The enemy will be here within the hour!"

An aura of shocked disbelief hung in the air around them for a split second before eighteen different types of hell erupted. Half the citizenry began to speak; the other half began to speak and move, in flight away from the river. Pushing and shoving were rampant, and Cyrus could hear the word spreading in shouts and screams down the waterfront as the crowd began to convulse, pushing back toward the city in a terrible rush.

Odellan moved to the soldiers nearby, issuing orders that Cyrus could not hear. He turned to Vara, who stayed still at the railing and looked stark against the backdrop of the burning city of Santir, ash coming down all around her. "Your parents," Cyrus said.

"My father." She turned to him, panic in her eyes. "He can't travel without help."

"What is going on here?" Nyad and Ryin Ayend appeared, fighting through the crowd. Looking back toward the Entaras'iliarad, Cyrus realized that the news was spreading, the entire waterfront now in motion, the civilians clearing out.

"The dark elven army is about to invade Termina," Cyrus said.

"My gods," Ryin Ayend said, voice a near-whisper. "We have to get out of here!" Nyad paled, her skin a snowy white against the scarlet of her robe.

"Odellan!" Cyrus shouted over the crowd, and the guard captain looked back at him. "What are you going to do?"

Odellan trotted over to him. "We cannot defend the city with the forces we have. All I can do is try to aid the evacuation."

"It is your duty!" Vara's voice rose and her cheeks flushed.

"Duty or no," Odellan said with a shake of his head, "there are three spans to guard-the Northbridge, with the Olenet'yinaii leading to the government center, the Southbridge, with the Ameeras'etas leading to the Bazaar, and the Grand Span that opens onto the Entaras'iliarad. To mount a defense I would need 20,000 soldiers to hold the bridges. Without that number, our position would be flanked and we'd be encircled and destroyed within an hour."

"My father would send aid." Nyad was ghostly pale and Cyrus looked up from deep thought to see her, the Princess of the Elven Kingdom, and he felt a rush of hope.

"There is no way to get reinforcements here in time," Vara said in a ghostly whisper.

"What?" Cyrus looked at her and then Odellan in succession. Nyad bowed her head in resignation. Other members of Sanctuary stood beyond the perimeter of guards surrounding their conversation; Cyrus saw Longwell in particular near the front, watching them with great interest.

"The closest portal is in Santir, remember?" Vara's voice carried a thread of hopelessness. "The next is three days' ride southwest of here."

"Three days' hard ride," Odellan said. "More likely four with an army. Our forces moving north are at least two days away, assuming you could get a message to them." He looked back across the water, where the dark elven army continued to mass, growing larger by the minute, still wrapped in perfect formation. "There will be no reinforcement. The bridges will fall and the dark elven host will march through the city; our pitiful 5,000 will scarcely slow them down." He shook his head sadly. "Tens of thousands will die if they do here what they've done in the Confederation."

"We need to get out of here," Ryin Ayend said. "We need to collect the Sanctuary force and get out of this city before the hammer falls."

"Like hell," Cyrus said before anyone else could speak. "Odellan, could your army hold the Northbridge?"

The Endrenshan looked at him with uncertainty. "For a time, perhaps; it is narrower than the Grand Span. But the dark elven host would simply march around on one of the others and surround us, wiping us out to a man."

"If you can hold the Northbridge," Cyrus said, drawing out every syllable as though each were some precious metal he was loath to surrender, "I'll hold the other two."

A great clamor rose around him as Nyad gasped and Ryin Ayend started to speak. "Are you mad?" The druid stared him down, his brown eyes inflamed with disbelief. "You intend to put Sanctuary in the middle of this war?"

"I intend to defend this city and give its civilian occupants time to escape the murder and death that the dark elf horde would visit upon them," Cyrus replied.

"That will provoke the ire of the dark elves against us!" Ayend's words came out in a shout. "We're to remain neutral!"

"Neutrality be damned," Cyrus said. "Go stand in the middle of the Entaras'iliarad when that host marches through and see how neutral the dark elven army is to you."

"What's to stop them from ending up on our doorstep next?" Ryin Ayend raised his hands above his head as if seeking divine intervention."

"Me," Cyrus replied. He turned to Nyad. "Have you anchored your soul back at the safehouse?" he said, referring to the process by which a spell caster could mark a location and use the return spell to travel back to it later. She nodded. "Go to the others and give them my orders-take Thad and Martaina along with Vara's parents and teleport them out of here-Pharesia, Sanctuary, wherever Chirenya wants to go, there's no time to argue with her. When you're done with that, go to your father and tell him what's happening. Let him know that we're evacuating the city. Tell Andren and Fortin to get their asses to the Southbridge and defend it with their lives."

"Andren will love that," Vara said under her breath.

He finished. "Have everyone else meet us here at the Grand Span, and tell them to make ready for battle."

Odellan spoke. "You're sending two people to defend the Southbridge?" Skepticism ringed his words.

"A rock giant and a healer," Cyrus said.

"A...what?!" Odellan was floored. "You brought a rock giant into Termina?"

"Does that violate some sort of zoning ordinance? Be upset with me later." Cyrus locked eyes with the Endrenshan. "Will you hold the Northbridge?"

Odellan took a deep breath and his eyes closed. He sat there in the cold air, breathing in and out, the mist from his exhalations the only sign he was still alive. "Yes." His eyes opened. Regret flashed over the Endrenshan's youthful features. "I wish I had fought harder against my superiors when they took my army away. You and your spell casters, few as they are, stand a better chance of success on the Grand Span than my army does." He drew up to attention and saluted Cyrus. "I wish you all the luck, General Davidon. Take command of the defense of Termina, please."

Cyrus snapped to attention and drew his hand to his head in a sharp salute. "They'll not get through us. We'll hold until the morrow; that should be long enough to evacuate the city of all but the most stubborn."

"Aye." With a nod, Odellan broke his salute and barked orders to the soldiers surrounding them. The crowd had dispersed, save for a few gawkers that Odellan shouted commands at in elvish, causing them to scatter.

"Do you realize what you've committed us to?" Ryin Ayend's stunned voice came from behind Cyrus. He turned and found the druid there, looking at him in disbelief. Vara was still next to him, staring across the river, impassive. "You mean to steer Sanctuary into war!"

"I don't." The determination stirred within Cyrus, the anger and rage welling up as though Termina were Reikonos. "But I will fight here, and if it brings us into war then at least it will be for good cause."

"Good cause?" Ayend almost choked. "The dark elves will storm the gates of Sanctuary and kill everyone there if you persist in this course. I fail to see the 'good cause' in that. It's not as though with our two hundred," he said, taking a step closer to Cyrus, "you'll be able to keep them out of the city! You risk your guildmates' lives against an army of a hundred thousand for what? Death and glory? What possible reason could there be to engage in this utterly pointless fight?"

"Pointless?" Cyrus kept his voice calm. "I mean to use the width of the Great Span to funnel the dark elven host into our forces, where their numbers matter little to none. By holding the bridges, I'll keep the dark elven army from descending on an undefended city and leaving a hundred thousand corpses in the streets." He stepped closer and jabbed a finger in Ryin Ayend's face. "If you have a problem with that, take it up with Alaric and see what he says. But if you're not going to help us in the defense, at least make use of yourself by teleporting some elves out of the city while you retreat."

Ryin Ayend stepped away from him, the human's features still shocked. He twitched, as though his brain could not conceive what Cyrus had told him, and his voice was low and gravelly. "You'll die." He looked to the members of Sanctuary that had followed him to the waterfront, Vara's guard. "Anyone who follows you will die."

Cyrus turned to the waiting faces. Within the group of a half dozen he saw the face of Samwen Longwell, who nodded at him and grasped the handle of his lance, which was slung over his shoulder. Aisling's face poked out from under a heavy hooded cowl, looking back at him, eyes glistening in the reflected light. Next to her stood another cloaked and cowled figure, and he realized that the eyes of Erith Frostmoor looked back at him from within.

He took a deep breath. "Right now, I am not your General. I am not talking to you as an officer of Sanctuary. Right now, I speak to you as a man. And in five minutes I'll be standing on the Grand Span, sword in my hand, waiting for the dark elves to cross. I hope I'm wrong, that they'll turn north and go elsewhere. But if they come, I will fight for every inch of that bridge, even if I'm the only one out there." He turned away from them. "If you're willing to do the same, follow me. If you're not, kindly help the elves get out of the way of this bloody swath of destruction bearing down on them. I'll stand alone if need be." He felt a stir of emotion and suppressed it. "It won't be the first time."

He looked to Nyad. "Take that message back to the others-including Andren and Fortin-then tell them to run, not walk to the Southbridge. Go." She nodded once, and disappeared in a flash of magical light that bathed the world in green.

Cyrus did not look over his shoulder; he turned north toward the Entaras'iliarad a few hundred feet away and started walking toward it, not daring to look back.

Chapter 30.

He had almost made it to the span when he felt her next to him, armor clanking as she half ran, half walked to catch up. "Stirring speech," Vara said. "I daresay you'll get nearly the whole garrison once Nyad does her bit for King, self and country and delivers your message." She lowered her voice. "Why are you really willing to do it? Risk war and oblivion and all that? This isn't Reikonos, you know."

"No. It's not Reikonos. But there are innocent people here that stand no chance of escaping if someone doesn't buy them time."

"That's it, then? You really are that noble?" She looked at him questioningly. "You're willing to die for faceless masses you've never met?"