Erak turned swiftly to the two of them, gesturing them back into the cover of the rocks behind their campsite.

"Quick, you two! Behind them rocks if you value your lives! That's Morgarath himself on the white horse! Nordal, Horak, move into the light to screen them!"

Will and Evanlyn needed no second bidding. Staying low, they scrambled into the cover provided by the rocks. As Erak had commanded, two of the Skandians stood and moved into the glare of the firelight, drawing the attention of the approaching riders away from the two small figures in the half-light.

The chant, mingled with the clatter of hooves and the chink of harness and weapons, came closer as Will lay on his stomach, one arm covering Evanlyn in the darkness. As he had done before, he scooped the hood of his cloak over his head, to leave his face in deep shadow. There was a tiny gap between two of the rocks and, knowing he was taking a terrible risk but unable to resist, he pressed his eye to it.

The view was restricted to a few meters of space. Erak stood on the far side of the fire, facing the approaching riders. Will realized that by doing so, he had placed the glare of the firelight between the new arrivals and the spot where he and Evanlyn lay hidden. If any of the Wargals looked in their direction, they would be staring straight into the bright firelight. It was a lesson in tactics he filed away for future reference.

The sounds of horses and men stopped. The Wargal chant died abruptly. For a second or two, there was silence. Then a voice spoke. A low voice, with a slight snakelike sibilance to it.

"Captain Erak, where are you bound?"

Will glued his eye to the crack in the rocks, straining to see the speaker. Without a doubt, that cold, malevolent voice had to belong to Morgarath. The sound of it was the sound of ice and hatred. The sound of nails scraping on tile. The blood ran cold to hear it and, beneath his hand, he felt Evanlyn shiver.

If it had a similar effect on Erak, however, he showed no sign of it.

"My title, Lord Morgarath," he said evenly, "is not 'Captain,' but 'Jarl.'"

"Well then," replied the cold voice, "I must try to remember that, in case it is ever of the slightest interest to me. Now:Captain," he said, laying stress on the title this time, "I repeat, where are you bound?"

There was a jingle of harness and, through the crack in the rocks, Will saw a white horse move forward. Not a glossy-coated, shining white horse such as a gallant knight might ride, but a pale horse without sheen or life to its coat. It was huge, dead white and with wild, rolling eyes. He craned slightly to one side and managed to make out a black gloved hand holding the reins loosely. He could see no more of the rider.

"We thought we'd join your forces at Three Step Pass, my lord," Erak was saying. "I assume you will still go ahead with your attack, even though the bridge is down."

Morgarath swore horribly at the mention of the bridge. Sensing his fury, the white horse sidestepped a few paces and now Will could see the rider.

Immensely tall, but thin, he was dressed all in black. He stooped in the saddle to talk down to the Skandians and the hunched shoulders and his black cloak gave him the look of a vulture.

The face was thin, with a beak of a nose and high cheekbones. The skin on the face was white and pallid, like the horse. The hair above it was long, set to frame a receding hairline, and white-blond in color. By contrast, the eyes were black pools. He was clean-shaven and his mouth was a thin red slit in the pallor of his face. As Will looked, the Lord of Rain and Night seemed to sense his presence. He looked up, casting his gaze beyond Erak and his three companions, searching into the darkness behind them. Will froze, barely daring to breathe as those black eyes searched the night. But the light of the fire defeated Morgarath and he returned his gaze to Erak.

"Yes," he replied. "The attack will go ahead. Now that Duncan has his own forces deployed and in what he thinks is a strong defensive position, he'll allow us to come out onto the Plains before attacking."

"At which point, Horth will take him in the rear," Erak put in, with a chuckle, and Morgarath stared at him, head slightly to one side as he considered him. Again, the birdlike pose made Will think of a vulture.

"Exactly," he agreed. "It would be preferable if there were two flanking forces as I'd planned originally, but one should be enough."

"My thoughts too, my lord," Erak agreed, and there was a long moment of silence. Obviously, Morgarath had no interest in whether Erak agreed with him or not.

"Things would be easier if your other countryman had not abandoned us," Morgarath said eventually. "I've been told that your compatriot Olvak has sailed back to Skandia with his men. I had planned that they should come up the southern cliffs to reinforce us."

Erak shrugged, refusing to take blame for something outside his sphere of influence. "Olvak is a mercenary," he said. "You can't trust mercenaries. They fight only for profit."

"And you:don't?" the toneless voice said with scorn. Erak squared his shoulders.

"I'll honor any undertaking I've made," he said stiffly. Morgarath stared at him again for a long, silent moment. The Skandian met his gaze and, finally, it was Morgarath who looked away.

"Chirath told me you took a prisoner at the bridge-a mighty warrior, he said. I don't see him." Again, Morgarath tried to look through the light into the further gloom. Erak laughed harshly.

"If Chirath was the leader of your Wargals, neither did he," he replied sarcastically. "He spent most of his time at the bridge cowering behind a rock and dodging arrows."

"And the prisoner?" Morgarath asked.

"Dead," Erak replied. "We killed him and threw him over the edge."

"A fact that displeases me intensely," Morgarath said, and Will felt his flesh crawling. "I would have preferred to make him suffer for interfering in my plans. You should have brought him to me alive."

"And we would have preferred it if he hadn't been whipping arrows around our ears. The only way to take him was to kill him."

Another silence as Morgarath considered the reply. Apparently, it was not satisfactory to him. "Be warned for the future. I did not approve of your actions."

This time, it was Erak who let the silence stretch. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if Morgarath's displeasure was a matter of absolutely no interest to him. Eventually, the Lord of Rain and Night gathered his reins and shook them, heeling his horse savagely to turn it away from the campfire.

"I'll see you at Three Step Pass, Captain," he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned his horse back. "And Captain, don't get any ideas about deserting. You'll fight with us to the end."

Erak nodded. "I told you, my lord, I'll honor any bargain I've made."

This time, Morgarath smiled, a thin movement of the red lips in the lifeless white face. "Be sure of it, Captain," he said softly.

Then he shook the reins and his horse turned away, springing to a gallop. The Wargals followed, the chant starting up again and ringing through the night. Will realized that, behind the rocks, he'd been holding a giant breath. He let it go now, and heard a corresponding sigh of relief from the Skandians.

"My god of battles," said Erak, "he doesn't half give me the creeps, that one."

"Looks like he's already died and gone to hell," put in Svengal, and the others nodded. Erak walked around the fire now and stood over where Will and Evanlyn were still crouched behind the rocks.

"You heard that?" he said, and Will nodded. Evanlyn remained crouching, facedown, behind the rock. Erak stirred her roughly with the toe of his boot.

"What about you, missy?" he said, his voice harsh. "You heard too?"