They shuffled along, twisting and turning with the convolutions of the Pass. The narrow trail led down through the sheer mountains for at least five kilometers and Will could understand why it had always been a barrier to both sides. Morgarath's men couldn't move out in any large numbers unless Duncan held back and allowed them to. Similarly, the King's army couldn't penetrate the Pass to attack Morgarath on the plateau.

Black walls of sheer, glistening-wet rock towered above them on either side. The Pass saw sunlight for less than an hour each day, right on high noon. At any other time, it was cold and damp and shrouded in shadow. All of which served to help conceal the presence of the two younger members of the party from prying eyes.

Will felt the ground beneath his feet beginning to level out and realized they must be in the last extremities of the Pass-down at the level of the Plains. There was no way he could even see the ground ahead of him, trapped in the seething, jostling crowd. They rounded a final bend and a lance of daylight stabbed into the Pass, forcing him to throw up a hand to shield his eyes. They had reached the entrance, he realized. He felt a shove from his left.

"Get over to the right!" Erak told them and the four Skandians formed a human wedge, forcing their way through the crowd until they were on the extreme right-hand side of the Pass. There were growls and angry grunts from the Wargals as they shoved their way through, but the Skandians gave as good as they got in terms of threats and abuse.

The sunlight hit them like a physical barrier as they emerged from the darkness of the Pass and, for a moment, Will and Evanlyn hesitated. Erak shoved them on again, more anxious now as he could hear a familiar voice calling commands for the Wargals to deploy.

Morgarath was here, directing operations.

"Curse him!" muttered Erak. "I'd hoped he'd be out with the vanguard of the army. Keep moving, you two!" He shoved Will and Evanlyn along a little faster. Will glanced back. Above the heads of the Wargals, he could see the tall, thin form of the Lord of Rain and Night, now clad entirely in black mail armor and surcoat, still seated on his white horse and calling instructions to the milling, chanting Wargals.

Gradually, they were moving into ordered formations, then taking their position with the main army. As Will looked back, the pale face turned toward the group of hurrying Skandians and Morgarath urged his horse toward them, unmindful of the fact that he was trampling through his own men to reach them.

"Captain Erak!" he called. The voice wasn't loud, but it carried, thin and cutting, through the chanting of the Wargals.

"Keep going!" Erak ordered them in a low voice. "Keep moving."

"Stop!" Now the voice was raised and the cold anger in it instantly silenced and stilled the Wargals. As they froze in place around them, the Skandians reluctantly did the same, Erak turning to face Morgarath.

The Lord of Rain and Night spurred his horse through the throng, Wargals falling back to make way for him, or being buffeted out of the way if they failed to do so. Slowly, as his eyes locked on those of Erak, he dismounted. Even on foot, he towered over the bulky Skandian leader.

"And where might you and your men be bound today, Captain?" he asked in a silky tone. Erak gestured to the right.

"It's normal for me and my men to fight on the right wing," he said, as casually as he could manage. "But I'll go wherever you need me if that doesn't suit."

"Will you?" replied Morgarath with withering sarcasm. "Will you indeed? How terribly kind of you. You:" He broke off, his gaze on the two smaller figures whom the other Skandians had been trying, unsuccessfully, to shield from his gaze.

"Who are they?" he demanded. Erak shrugged.

"Celts," he said easily. "We took them prisoner in Celtica and I'm planning to sell them to Oberjarl Ragnak as slaves."

"Celtica is mine, Captain. Slaves from Celtica are mine as well. They're not for you to take and sell to your barbarian of a king."

The Skandians surrounding Will and Evanlyn stirred angrily at his words. Morgarath turned his cold eyes on them, then looked away at the thousands of Wargals who surrounded them-every one ready to obey any command of his without question. The message was clear.

Erak tried to bluff his way through the situation.

"Our agreement was we fought for booty and that includes slaves," he insisted, but Morgarath cut him off.

"If you fought!" he shouted furiously. " If! Not if you stood by and let my bridge be destroyed."

"It was your man Chirath who was in command at the bridge," Erak flashed back at him. "It was he who decided no guard was to be left on it. We were the ones who tried to save it while he was hiding behind rocks!"

Morgarath's gaze locked with Erak's once more and now his voice dropped to a low, almost inaudible level.

"I am not spoken to in that fashion, Captain Erak," he spat. "You will apologize to me at once. And then:"

He stopped in midsentence. Although he had been staring, unblinkingly, into Erak's eyes, he had apparently sensed something off to one side. Those black eyes now turned and trained on Will. One white, bony finger was raised, pointing at the boy's throat.

"What is that?"

Erak looked and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

There was a dull gleam of bronze visible in the gap of Will's open collar. Then Erak felt himself shoved to one side as Morgarath moved, snake-fast, and snatched at the chain around Will's neck.

Will staggered back, horrified at the implacable fury in those dead eyes, and the slight flare of color above the cheekbones. Beside him, he heard Evanlyn's intake of breath as Morgarath stared down at the small bronze oak leaf in his hand.

"A Ranger!" he raged. "This is a Ranger! This is their sign!"

"He's a boy:" Erak began, but now Morgarath's fury was turned upon him and he swept his hand in a backhanded blow across the Skandian's cheek.

"He is no boy! He is a Ranger!"

The other three Skandians moved forward at the blow, weapons ready. Morgarath didn't even have to speak. He turned those glittering eyes on them and twenty Wargals moved as well, a warning growl in their throats, clubs and iron spears ready.

Erak signaled for his men to settle. The red mark of Morgarath's blow flared on his cheek.

"You knew," Morgarath accused him. "You knew." Then realization dawned on him. "This is the one! Arrows, you said! My Wargals were hiding from arrows as the bridge burned! Ranger weapons! This is the swine who destroyed my bridge!" The voice rose to a shriek of fury as he spoke.

Will's throat was dry and his heart pounded with terror. He knew of Morgarath's legendary hatred for Rangers-all members of the Corps did. Ironically, it was Halt himself who had triggered that hatred when he led the surprise attack on Morgarath's army at Hackham Heath sixteen years previously.

Erak stood before the raging Black Lord and said nothing.

Will felt a small, warm hand creep into his: Evanlyn.

For a moment, he marveled at the girl's courage, to bond herself to him like this, in the face of Morgarath's implacable fury and hatred.

Then, another horse forced its way through the crowd. On its back was one of Morgarath's Wargal lieutenants, one of those who had learned basic human speech.

"My lord!" he called, in the peculiar, flat tones of all Wargals. "Enemy advancing."

Morgarath swung to face him and the Wargal continued.

"Their skirmish line moving toward us, my lord. Battle is beginning."

The Lord of Rain and Night came to a decision. He swung back into the saddle of his horse, his furious gaze now locked on Will, not Erak.

"We will finish this later," he said. Then he turned to a Wargal sergeant among those who had surrounded the Skandians.