They spent the night sleeping under the stars, Siggard holding Guthbreoht in his hands as he slept. The sword sang to him, and during its song, Siggard dreamed.

He stood again in the shield wall at Blackmarch, watching the demonic army break through the treeline. Giant boulders smashed into the ranks, flattening entire groups of soldiers. Still the lines held, the spear-men shouting insults at the demons.

Old Banagar smiled. "This is the way battle should be!"

"I'd rather be home!" Siggard shouted, raising his shield as the arrows started to fly. The goat-things stood before the army, holding great bows in their hands. Each time they loosed, a soldier fell, screaming in agony.

The smaller dog creatures and several of the goat creatures charged, bearing crude axes and clubs. They crashed against the shield wall, and the front lines became a struggle for survival. Siggard cut a goat-demon down with his sword, the force of the blow nearly unbalancing him. Something seemed strange about the blade, though, as if it wasn't really the one he should have…

The rush subsided, leaving the shield wall intact. Before the front lines lay a pile of bodies, some human, most monstrous. For the first time since the enemy came out onto the field, Siggard felt hope. Now that most of the demonic force was in the open, he saw that Entsteig had the advantage in numbers. More demons came out of the treeline, but they were outnumbered fivefold.

Once again they charged, this assault even more furious than the last. Siggard found himself barely able to think, his reflexes alone keeping him alive. As one creature came before him, he lifted his shield, the blow from an axe nearly knocking him over. His counterthrust took the creature in the belly, and the monster keeled over, screaming in anguish. As it fell, another took its place, and Siggard's blow almost severed the creature's head. The monster fell back in a spray of blood, a flap of skin the only thing holding its head to its neck.

"I think we might just win this battle!" Banagar shouted in triumph, raising his shield to mock the enemy.

With a fierce rustling, the shadows at the treeline parted, and a horrific monster strode into the open. Several of the Entsteigian archers loosed their arrows at it, but the shafts bounced harmlessly off the terrifying thing's muscular crimson chest.

Siggard gasped. The demon was a giant, easily dwarfing the goat creatures assailing them. Its eyes shone bright red, and horns protruded from its shoulders, elbows, and knees. It wore only a primitive loincloth and a belt, and it bore a giant sword. On its chest a strange symbol was emblazoned, and Siggard could not tell if it was a tattoo or something the creature wore.

"I am the favored of the Lord of Terror!" the creature bellowed, shaking the ground itself. "You will drop your weapons and submit to me, or all of you will die!"

A voice, tinny in comparison to the demon's, but still proud, called out. "We will never surrender to darkness. Go back to the underworld and trouble us no more!"

Siggard blinked, suddenly recognizing the voice. It was Prince Hrothwulf himself, the heir of Entsteig, a man beloved by the entire kingdom. He hadn't realized that the king had sent his son with this army, and for a moment he wondered if it was a good idea.

The demon smiled, and in that grin Siggard saw more malice than he had experienced in an entire lifetime. "Then all of you will die!"

The monster walked back into the trees, and the shadowy things moved again, covering its exit. There was a moment of silence, as Siggard and the rest of the army wondered what would come next.

"They're behind us!" came a startled cry from the rear of the line. Siggard turned to see several soldiers cut down, seemingly by nothing. Yet the blood spilled was real. Then a creature materialized, holding a long jagged knife, right in the middle of the shield wall.

Confusion reigned, and in that moment the demons attacked. This time, they broke through the shield wall, and Siggard found himself trapped in a sea of enemies. He fought like a madman, taking several of the creatures down, but there were still more, and the line was broken.

There was a gurgling cry from Banagar, and Siggard turned to face another of the materializing demons. With a great blow, he split open the creature's head, but more came, and Siggard found himself in a crush of men such that he couldn't move.

At that moment, sheer panic took hold.

He startled awake to see Sarnakyle standing watch. The wizard had draped his damp cloak over one of the tree branches, and seemed to be waiting for it to finish drying. The morning sun was still close to the horizon, giving off a pleasant heat tempered by a light breeze.

"It is a good day to be alive, my friend!" Sarnakyle said, motioning towards the clear sky. "This promises to be a great day."

Siggard stood and stretched. "I only hope that the people of Brennor agree with you."

Sarnakyle walked over, a piece of meat in his hand. "I was able to catch a hare last night. It was a bold creature; it almost walked right up to me."

Siggard took the offering with a nod and ate a small piece. Then he put the rest away.

"You really should eat more," Sarnakyle said. "This cannot be healthy."

"I found out only two days ago that my family was dead," Siggard pointed out. "How can you possibly expect me to be hungry?"

"If you don't eat, you will not have the strength to meet the foe, and you may end up joining your family before you can claim your vengeance," Sarnakyle chided. "Do not soil their memory by dying needlessly."

Siggard conceded the point and finished off the meal, even though he had no appetite for it. It seemed to settle, though, so he turned his mind to other things.

He stood and walked to the edge of the clearing, looking out at the barrows. In the morning light, they appeared old and decrepit, as though they were merely old tombs that would soon be forgotten. Perhaps one day they would fade into the land, and be passed by travelers who would mistake them for small hills.

Such is the way of things, Siggard thought. All things must be forgotten in the end.

"We should go," Sarnakyle said behind him. "The open road awaits."

Siggard nodded, turning away from the mounds. Somehow, he knew that he would never see them again in his lifetime. He pulled on his cloak, and joined the wizard as they ventured off towards the Queen's Road.

Around midday, they finally came to Brennor, and as with every other time he had been there, Siggard felt overwhelmed. The town was huge, surrounded by a large stone wall that was said to be impenetrable.

They stood at the gate, watching the guard allow a trickle of travelers inside the wall. The guards were impressive, their deep blue tabards and shining mail putting the entire army of Entsteig to shame.

"So this is your idea of a town," Sarnakyle mused. "Quaint. I like it, though."

"Surely you can't think this to be small," Siggard scoffed. "This is one of the greatest towns in the land."

"In Kehjistan, there are villages larger than this," Sarnakyle said. "But that is Kehjistan, and this is Entsteig. Standards are different."

"Let's go in and see the earl," Siggard sighed. He didn't want to get the wizard started on another long-winded story about the wonders of his homeland.