The vanguard clattered onto the bridge. Soth did not reposition his blade as the ogres thudded across the stones. He kept his arm stiff, the blade pointed at Malocchio, stoically watching the ogres rumble forward in a sweaty, swearing mass.

Magda cast Soth a frantic glance. The ogres were close enough that she could smell the stench they gave off, and still the death knight stood. Was he lost in another reverie?

Magda got her answer an instant later. The first of the ogres had reached the tip of Soth's outstretched sword, far enough onto the bridge that the entire vanguard had pressed in behind him. The ogre raised its club with both hands and shouted "Invidia!"

The ogre did not see Soth open his empty left hand. Neither did he see the small spark of orange flame erupt from the death knight's palm and speed toward him like a sling bullet. The ogre only realized his peril at the very instant his patriotic cry had left his lips. A fireball, his sluggish ogre mind noted. Uh oh-

The magical fire incinerated the ogre at the front of the charge, then swelled to fill the bridge. The rest of the brutes in the first two ranks met a similar fate. Those half-dozen ogres toward the back were less fortunate. The fire had diminished just enough to allow them to realize they were ablaze, then to shriek in agony before they died.

The burst of flame blinded Magda for a moment, and the horrible whoosh made by its passing left her ears ringing, so she didn't hear the clumsy splashing beneath the bridge, nor Sabak's warning barks. Before she knew she was in danger, her head snapped back with incredible force.

A brutish hand covered in rotting river weeds had grabbed her by the hair. As the stars of pain cleared from her eyes, she saw the ogre to which that much-crusted hand belonged. He was clinging to the rail. He and the remaining troops had used the vanguard's demise as a distraction.

At a thought, Gard was in her hand. Before the brute could drop back into the water, taking her- or at least her head-with him, Magda twisted around so that her stomach braced against the rail. The ogre's face was so close to hers that she could count the hairs on each wart dotting his pug nose.

The Vistana lashed out with her cudgel and kicked away from the rail at the same time. That single blow from Gard caved in the left side of the ogre's face; his death cry was punctuated by the clatter of his broken teeth on the rail. But the ogre never relaxed his grip. As the corpse dropped from the bridge, it tore loose a bloody trophy. The ogre sank into the weedy mire still clutching that hank of hair and scalp.

Panting, Magda fell against the rail. She looked up to see Soth calmly assessing the situation. Ogres were scrambling up from the water on either side of the bridge. A dozen human soldiers held both ends. The troops on the Sithican side, still wet from their charge across the river, had swords. The soldiers standing with Malocchio had strung bows and were already nocking arrows.

The Invidian lord gestured to the archers. "They may not kill you, Soth, but they're almost certain to pierce her withered heart."

The death knight waved his gauntleted hand once, directing outward the awful, unearthly cold that wracked his body. Before the archers could loose a single arrow, they found themselves facing a wall of ice that sealed off the entire Invidian end of the bridge. Soth turned to the other human soldiers. "You are in my kingdom now," he said, and raised his sword.

Magda didn't see what happened next; two more ogres had pulled themselves up onto the bridge. She turned to face the first. The other had to contend with Sabak.

The Vistana sparred with the brute, testing him for weaknesses. She knew better than to rush the duel. Impatience would only cause her to make a fatal mistake. But Magda was tiring much more quickly than she had expected. Each blow from the ogre's club made her arms shake just a little more, her guard drop a little lower. When she remembered that there were more ogres to fend off after this one, Magda felt an unprecedented despair sweep over her. Once I could have stood alone against such threats, she thought, but no longer.

That realization was underscored for Magda when the ogre's next blow knocked her from her feet. She kept her hold on Gard, countering with a strike that broke the brute's leg. Still she was vulnerable, if the ogre could only take advantage of the situation.

Fortunately, he couldn't.

Sabak entered the fray, having finished off his own adversary. As the wounded ogre hobbled forward, the hound sank his teeth into the brute's side. He came away with a mouthful of rusted chain mail and more than a little of the flesh beneath. When the ogre toppled, Sabak went for his throat.

A weird howl drew Magda's attention back to Lord Soth. The death knight stood at the bridge's center, arms raised over his head. The air behind him had split open. In full battle regalia, thirteen banshees thundered out of the torn sky. They rode chariots of bone drawn by wyverns. The dragon-winged beasts lifted them high over the bridge, but only long enough to choose a victim. The howling spirits descended upon the troops trapped on the Sithican side of the span.

Magda watched in horror as the banshees drew their weapons, swords and flails of ice, and attacked. The humans tried to run, but that only fueled the wyverns' battle lust. The beasts lashed out at the soldiers with talons, impaling them with barbed tails. Those few the wyverns spared were cut down by the banshees long before they reached safety.

The ogres fared no better. Soth slaughtered the few remaining on the bridge. The rest fell to Sabak or the banshees. The brutes who had yet to climb onto the bridge were the fortunate ones. Their awkwardness or their fear of Soth had left them some hope of escape. Using the bridge as cover, they stumbled back to the Invidian shore. Onkar, the ogre with the missing nose, led the retreat. They skirted the wall of ice, which had finally begun to show the effects of the archers' steel, and vanished into the woods.

For her part, Magda sat in the midst of the carnage and mourned-though for whom, she could not really tell. Herself, she supposed. Gore-spattered and aching, she watched Soth clean his blade on one of the fallen ogres. A wyvern waited patiently for the death knight to be done with the corpse before it began to tear apart the prize. Even Sabak joined in the feasting.

A chill that penetrated even her numbed soul told Magda that Soth was near. She looked up into the gathering darkness and found the death knight standing over her. He was staring at something near the Sithican end of the bridge. Without a word, Soth drew his blade again and walked off. Magda levered herself to her feet and followed.

As she neared the death knight, Magda was able to see what had drawn his attention. In the midst of several dismembered soldiers, so gore-soaked that he had been discounted as a corpse himself, knelt the half-elf. How he had escaped the melee was anyone's guess.

"The battle is over," Soth said.

The half-elf held out empty hands. "I have no weapon," he said piteously. "Please."

Soth studied the half-elf for a moment. Then a flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes. "Tanis Half-Elven," he said venomously.

"No, my lord," replied the half-elf. "Stefan of Mal-Erek."

"Flee then, Stefan of Mal-Erek. You are unarmed, and I follow the Measure even now." Soth's voice chilled the blood-heated air. "Carry your disgrace with you as you leave this land."

The half-elf staggered across the bridge and over the chunks of ice from the felled wall. Magda could almost feel the death knight's disdain for the youth. She asked him about it, though his reply was cryptic.

"I knew one like him on Krynn," Soth said. "His kind was never suited to the sword."