They reached the edge of the stand. The scout motioned for the others to wait, then stood behind a fir bole and studied the ground ahead. The small field was dotted with boulders, tufts of long yellow-green grass, and bright clumps of dainty alpine flowers. There was no sign of the battle between Goboka's horde and the hill giants, but Tavis knew better than to assume there were no ogres nearby just because he did not see them.

Across the small field, a ridge of barren bedrock curved toward the cliff with the High Gate. The granite face stood at such an angle that neither the fault cave nor the timber road was visible, but the scout could see a well-traveled giant path leading up the crest of the ridge. From what little he remembered of the journey down from the gate, the trail was both long and arduous, and they would be visible for much of its length.

They could not risk ascending it during the day. Goboka would certainly see them, and with Ig staggering along in their company, they were not fast enough to flee the shaman. It would be better to wait until dark. He and Ooo would sneak up the trail first, slaying any sentries that the victors of today's battle sent to guard the gate. Brianna and the others would follow later.

As the scout turned to tell the others of his decision, a sharp thunk sounded on the tree behind him. He dropped to the ground, an arrow already nocked. Something hissed past his head and thumped into the tree bole ahead, then bounced to the ground. It was not an ogre's arrow, as he had expected. The missile was a small round rock, such as might be hurled from a sling.

Tavis's first thought was of Avner, but of course that was ridiculous. The boy was dead.

Another stone hissed overhead and bounced off the same tree, pitting the bark just inches above the mark left by the first. The slinger was either missing on purpose. Tavis realized, or had just gauged the distance to his target. The scout scrambled into a seated position, looking in the direction from which the stones had come.

Across the field, a human boy stood behind a boulder, using one arm to gesture at Tavis. His other arm was bound to his side as though it had been injured.

Tavis did not lower his bow. Avner had fallen a thousand feet, and if his body was now standing across the field waving, the scout could think of only one explanation. Goboka had animated the boy's corpse. The shaman was trying to lure them into a trap.

Tavis pulled his bowstring back.

Avner's eyes widened, and he ducked down behind the boulder. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"

"Avner?" Tavis gasped. The boy certainly didn't sound dead.

"What are you, blind?" The youth peered over the top of the boulder. "Of course it's me."

"But Kol… Rog pushed you off the platform!"

"Do I look like I fell a thousand feet?" Avner cautiously rose so that Tavis could see his entire body.

The scout had to admit that the boy looked far too healthy to have suffered the fall. Even if Kol had cushioned the youth's landing, the impact would have twisted his body into something more akin to the fomorians. Tavis lowered his bow. Even if there had been reason to loose an arrow, he could not have hit his target. He was so filled with relief that his hands were trembling.

"How did you-"

"Later. There are ogres about," the boy said. "That's why I was trying to get your attention without shouting."

"That wouldn't have worked anyway," Tavis replied, listening to Ig come crashing up behind him. "Stealth is no longer our strong point."

"Then we'd better hurry." Avner said. "I don't know how long Basil will wait. He's nervous about the ogres."

"Basil?" asked Morten, joining the scout. The bodyguard sounded as suspicious as Tavis had been a moment earlier.

"He still wants his books," Avner explained. "Now, are you coming or what? It's not like I'm charging a toll."

Tavis stood and led the way across the field. Once they were past the ridge and had a clear view of the High Gate, he could see why Avner was concerned. On top of the granite ridge, well beyond the bend where the scout could have seen them from the fir stand, a dozen ogres where sprinting toward the timber road. Goboka was behind them, strolling up the hill at a more leisurely pace. Fortunately for the scout and his friends, the cliff was casting a dark shadow over their group. Even if the shaman had heard them calling to each other, it would be difficult for him to find them in the deep shade.

No sooner had the scout reached this conclusion than the shaman's head slowly turned toward their position. Despite the distance, Tavis could see a fierce purple light gleaming in his eyes, and he knew that the ogre had spied them.

"He sees us!" Brianna gasped.

"He can't!" Avner replied. "I was hiding in these same shadows when he started up the trail, and he looked right at me without doing anything. Why should he see us now?"

"Perhaps because of this," said Morten. The bodyguard held his fingers out for the others to see. They were covered with yellow ichor from the sore on his throat, which had begun to fester again. "I felt the wound swelling as we escaped the Fir Palace. It started to ooze right before he looked down at us."

"You think he's tracking us through the bite?" Brianna asked.

Morten nodded. "It explains how he reacted so quickly when we rescued you on the glacier." The bodyguard fixed his eyes on the ground. "My wound was festering then, too."

Tavis cursed under his breath. "That explains why he didn't kill you on Coggin's Rise," the scout surmised. "He knew that if anyone came after Brianna, you'd be among them."

Tears of shame began to roll down Morten's cheeks. "I should have realized it earlier."

"Why? None of us did," Tavis said. He placed a reassuring hand on the bodyguard's arm. "It's not your fault."

"And it's not going to stop us from escaping," Avner added, "Goboka and his ogres have a long climb."

"And we have an even longer one-with them ahead of us," Morten countered. He looked up at the craggy ridge above. "It won't be easy to fight our way up that."

"We don't need to. Basil will lower a rope, then he's got something figured that'll get us up in no time." Avner pointed across a small field to the base of the cliff, where the mangled bodies of Kol and Rog lay in a heap below the High Gate. "All we have to do is run over there."

The youth started toward the cliff, trotting across the valley on a course roughly parallel to the trail the ogres were climbing to the base of the timber road. As Tavis and the others followed, the scout glanced up and saw Goboka watching them with a thoughtful expression. The shaman glanced toward the platform outside the High Gate and looked back to them.

Goboka pointed his finger down the trail, to where a rocky slope spilled down from the ridge crest, directly above the small field Tavis and his companions had to cross. The shaman cried out in the guttural language of his race. A deep, pulsing vibration shot through the floor of the valley, then a deafening crack rang off the canyon walls. Huge boulders began to slip free of the scarp face and tumble down the steep hillside.

"He's trying to cut us off!" Tavis yelled. "Run faster!"

They broke into a sprint, their eyes fixed on the hillside above. The landslide built slowly, for the bedrock ridge did not crumble easily and would not have broken apart at all save for the incredible power of Goboka's magic. As the boulders went bouncing down the scarp, they occasionally knocked more rocks loose, but the result was nothing like the cascade of loose stone that had nearly killed Tavis in Runolf's couloir. By the time the small company's leaders, Avner and Brianna, reached the field's edge, less than a dozen boulders were tumbling down the slope above them.

Goboka's voice rang out again, and another tremendous crack rang through the valley. This time, his spell was more successful. Near the crest of the ridge, a curtain of powdered rock shot into the air, then a mountainous slab of granite came free and slid downslope. It began to break apart, producing a tremendous rock-slide. The cloud of rock dust rolled down the scarp and spread out over the field like a gray, bitter-smelling fog.