How long they walked, Siggard could not be certain. Deep in the musky earth, without sun, moon, or stars, he had no way of measuring time, and with his deepening fatigue, the entire experience seemed like a waking dream.

Suddenly, from behind them there was a dull rumbling, like a distant thunder. Earl Tilgar smiled grimly. "I do not think Brennor will be the fortress Assur had hoped," he said, but he would not say more.

Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Dawn's amber glow broke through the gloomy earth, and they emerged from a hill into the cloudless morn. Siggard shivered at the morning chill, and Sarnakyle pressed something warm and soft into his hand.

"I noticed you had lost your cloak during the fighting," Sarnakyle said. "So I got you a new one. If I can find the shopkeeper, I will pay him for it."

Siggard nodded wearily and pulled on his new black cloak, wrapping it about himself like a second skin. He looked around to see a large group of milling people, people from every age, craft, and discipline. They stood behind a cluster of hills that Siggard surmised must be large enough to hide them from the sight of any watcher from Brennor.

Siggard climbed the hill and peered over the rocky tor. As he looked toward the distant town, his eyes widened. The walls of Brennor were no more, lying in a crumbled heap. The castle still stood, surrounded by the abandoned town, and the windows of the keep shone with an unearthly red light.

When he came down, Tilgar smiled in grim satisfaction. "The final orders of the city guard were to bring down the walls. One of Brennor's great secrets is that any enemy who takes the place will only gain a small fortress. The King of Entsteig has never allowed one of his own towns to be used against him."

Tilgar turned to a housecarl, asking if Wulfgar still lived. When the answer came back as a negative, the earl shook his head sadly and began to give marching orders.

"Siggard, I would be grateful if you would stay with us," Tilgar said, placing his hand on the warrior's shoulder. "Your sword arm would be a great help."

Siggard shook his head. "I'm going to rest here, and then go back to Brennor at nightfall."

Sarnakyle startled. "Are you mad, my friend? What can you possibly hope to accomplish against a demonic horde?"

"I'm going to kill Assur," Siggard replied coldly.

"You know what that glyph means," Sarnakyle insisted. "Assur is invincible."

Siggard smiled grimly. "The murderer of my family is in Brennor, so I will seek him out and destroy him if I can. I know he can't possibly expect me."

"If you do this, you will probably die, Siggard," Tilgar said. "Are you certain that's what you want?"

Siggard affixed the earl with a cold stare. "Everything I love is already dead. If I must perish trying to avenge it, then so be it. But one way or another, I swear that Assur will die at my hands by daybreak."

Siggard strode through the night, his hand resting on Guthbreoht's hilt under his black cloak. He was careful not to walk too fast, lest he attract unwanted attention from the castle of Brennor.

The refugees had left around midday, Earl Tilgar giving Siggard explicit instructions of where they would be going, and to find them if he survived. Sarnakyle had offered to help, but Siggard had refused. The last thing he wanted to do was endanger the wizard's life, particularly when Earl Tilgar would have a far greater need of magic protection than he.

After the refugees had departed, Siggard had cleaned the caked blood and gore from his sword and mail-coat, checking both for rust. He had oiled the sword, and blackened the mail with coal, removing as much of the shine as he could. Then he had waited for sunset.

Siggard finally reached what was left of the gates of Brennor. The wall truly had crumbled, and the air reeked of death. From the faint light of the castle windows, he made out bodies lying throughout the rubble. No doubt the crows and carrion eaters had eaten their fill during the day.

He made sure his cowl properly covered his face, and began to walk through the town. Most of the buildings he passed were scarred and hollowed out from the last of the fighting, and the corpses of guardsmen lay sprawled over the street. He slowly picked his way across the carnage, careful not to disturb anything.

A flickering fire caught his attention, and he stepped back into the shadows. Two of the goat creatures passed by, one carrying a torch, the other a severed head. As they passed, Guthbreoht's song became insistent, but Siggard held back. "Soon," he whispered. "Soon there will be vengeance."

He waited for another moment, and then took to the street again, carefully keeping in the darkness. He was certain that there would be guards at the castle door, but an idea was beginning to form in his mind. A vision of Tylwulf returned to the forefront of his memory, and he smiled grimly. The traitor would be helpful, after all.

But he still had to get into the castle.

He wound his way through the rubble of the town, sliding again into the shadows as he came to a campfire in the middle of one of the town squares. Several demons sat by the blaze, chortling and speaking in some guttural tongue. One of them held up a severed human arm and gnawed on the flesh.

Siggard forced down a wave of nausea and turned aside, slipping farther into the darkness. The reckoning would come soon enough. He wrapped his cloak tighter about him and began to wind his way around the group at the fire, hoping he wouldn't attract their attention.

Finally, the fire lay in the distance, and he walked onward through the maze of crumbling streets, keeping the castle firmly in sight.

Before he could react, one of the dog creatures rounded the corner ahead of him. The creature rose to its full height of four feet and glared.

"What you want?" it demanded.

"Go away," Siggard growled, standing perfectly still.

"You tell me what you want or me call guards!" the creature shrilled. "Now what you want?"

"I've come to serve lord Assur," Siggard answered gruffly. "Now are you going to get out of my way, or am I going to have to hurt you?"

"You come with me," the dog-man said. "Me take you to others."

Siggard rolled his eyes theatrically. "Very well."

"Baron Assur need many men," the creature rambled, leading him to the castle door. "He need to call more demons, need more power. You give body, you give soul, you give power!"

The door appeared unguarded, but as they approached, two Hiddens emerged from the darkness, one on each side of the way. The dog-man spoke a few words, and they moved aside. Siggard followed the creature into the castle courtyard, taking careful note of where the Hiddens had placed themselves.

"You serve Baron Assur well!" the demon crooned, leading him past another pair of dog-men guarding the entrance to the keep. "You give him good soul!"

Siggard tried to ignore the creature's demented grumblings as he followed it through the passageways. As he walked, his hand flexed on Guthbreoht's leather hilt.

"Where is Lord Assur?" Siggard demanded.

"He in room with many maps," the dog-man said. "You no go there. Overseer take care of you."

Siggard stopped and looked down the corridor. It was empty on both sides, as far as the eye could see.

"Why you stopping?! You follow me!"

Siggard smiled coldly and struck. Guthbreoht flashed in the darkness as he drew and slashed in a single stroke, sending the dog-man's head thudding against the wall. Siggard began to walk purposefully down the corridor, hiding his sword under his cloak. He knew exactly where the war room was from here.