As the wild elf looked at the winding column, which still extended nearly halfway to the bottom of the slope, he hoped that all the knights would reach the summit before nightfall rendered their task impossible. Still, as the file straggled into a long, sinuous formation, he wasn't at all sure that they would.

The summit of the gap was a broad saddle between two towering mountains. Here, one by one, the knights gathered in the shelter offered by several overhanging rocks. The humans stroked and spoke to their nervous steeds, while the horses stared in wild-eyed fear at the barren landscape, at the specters of smoke and steam spewing from several of the nearby summits. The elf was impressed by the way in which each rider seemed to understand his own horse's fears-the men clapped their steeds on the neck, or patted their muzzles and withers, soon able to restore their animals' calm.

Though Sanction was not visible from the notch of the pass, the knights, like Ashtaway, saw that this fact worked to their advantage. Steadily the humans assembled, resting and grooming their mounts without having to worry about observation from below.

"Which way to the city?" asked Sir Kamford when several dozen knights had gathered in the pass.

Ashtaway pointed. "The trail down is wider and more gentle than the climbing route. If you move slowly and stay alert for sentries, you should be able to spy your target without being observed."

"Very well." Sir Kamford, accompanied by Sir Blayne and several other knights, left their horses with the others and went off to perform a reconnaissance on foot.

One by one, the rest of the knights made their way into the cold, bare shelter of the pass. Each human reacted differently-some with obvious relief, others with swaggering bravado, still others with a pause for reverent thanks to the gods of good. All of them looked at the tattooed figure of the wild elf, with wonder, respect, and perhaps a little bit of suspicion on their faces. Yet the men then looked past, staring into the smoldering valley below, as if reflecting with amazement that their mission was on the brink of decision.

Dozens of knights still remained on the mountainside when Sir Kamford returned. The knight's mustache bobbed up and down, and his eyes flashed with enthusiasm as he joined Ashtaway beside the trail.

"It couldn't be more perfect. The plateau on this side of the city is virtually unguarded. They assume any attacker would have to fight his way through Sanction to reach it!"

"And is this plateau worth attacking?" wondered the elf.

"Undeniably! I saw large wooden bins where they store the coal for their forges, and the great barns, with their doors open, were full of grain. Those stockpiles would keep the army in the field over the entire winter if they get delivered-and if we're successful, they'll burn for days once we give them the spark. And they've built huge depots for weapons-spears, arrows, and the like. Those, too, we'll put to the torch! Then there are the corrals- huge things, really. They've got horses, mules, and oxen, a thousand of each if they have a pair. I don't doubt for a moment that we'll scatter the lot of them to the four winds!"

"I am glad the route might prove useful. Let us hope that the rest of your men can reach the crest by nightfall."

Sir Kamford, with a worried frown, looked over the tail end of his column. "Let's step up the pace there, lads!" he called. "Don't want to get stuck down there in the dark, now do we?"

Grumbling, the knights who were within earshot pressed ahead, while the last few struggled as quickly as they dared to close up the gaps. Even so, the sun had set before the final knights reached the pass, though enough daylight remained for even these last humans to see the path barely a few feet in front of their faces.

'That's the lot!" cried Sir Kamford when the full company of men and horses had gathered in the pass. The warrior's elation had continued to grow with each new arrival, and now Ashtaway marveled at the keen energy that seemed to possess his human companion.

"You will attack tomorrow?" asked the elf.

"As soon as we can get down there-I want to start the descent before sunrise," Sir Kamford asserted.

The human looked again at the sweeping mountainside they had ascended during the day, then turned to fix his dark eyes on the wild elf's face. "I wasn't at all sure we could do it, you know. When first you showed us the path, I thought we were doomed. Now here we are-and without losing a single horse on the climb!"

"Would that the battle be so kind," Ash remarked.

Sir Kamford's expression sobered. "It won't be," he acknowledged. "But, thanks to you, we'll have the chance to strike a solid blow in the name of the Oath and the Measure."

In misty purple light, an hour before dawn, Asbtarcay started down the smooth path toward Sanction. The knights were already active in the mountain camp, brushing and feeding the horses before cinching saddles and bridles into place. As if sensing the impending battle, the animals snorted softly and pawed the ground with barely contained tension. Still, secrecy was paramount. By the time the elf had moved fifty paces from the camp, he could hear no sounds of humans or horses.

Instead, he was bombarded by a sensory onslaught from the city that gradually came into view. Sanction expanded to fill the horizon as steady progress brought Ashtaway around the great bulk of the volcano. Even in the predawn darkness the city was alight, illuminated by glowing fissures in the bedrock. Flaming rivers of lava spewed heat and fire into the air, washing the entire, crowded valley in erratic pulses. Now, as dawn diffused the harsh, fiery illumination, Sanction promised to remain a place more of smoke and shadows than of daylight.

One of the Three Smoking Mountains-the peaks the knights called the Lords of Doom-belched forth a river of molten rock. This flowage blazed and hissed across the face on the opposite side of the valley, and Ash could see the course of the lava stream as it sputtered through the heart of the city.

Despite the destructive forces raging around the valley on the ground and in the air, to the wild elf the city of Sanction seemed an ancient, timeless place-a place where the works of nature ruled with far more authority than the audacious constructs of humankind.

Ashtaway got a clear view of the plateau, with its smooth eastern approach and the scattered clusters of buildings, corrals, and storage depots. As he moved farther, he saw the teeming slums come into sight, buildings sprouting like weeds on every patch of level ground and some places that were very steep as well. Narrow, twisting streets forced their way through these packed structures, and the wild elf could only wonder at the kind of desperation that would compel free creatures to dwell in such squalid, tightly packed surroundings.

Many towering edifices of stone rose among a tangle of lesser buildings, and wide avenues cut through the chaos to link numerous teeming alleys and lanes. The whole of the crowded metropolis blocked the valley between two huge volcanoes, with the broad expanse of the Solamnic Plain extending beyond. Where the city met the plain, the high wall of stone had been erected, and though it was pierced by numerous gates, Ash could see that it presented a daunting obstacle to anyone attempting to attack the city from the west.

Finally the mighty temples, grand structures that flanked the city on three sides, came into view. Even these left him cold. How could their grandeur hope to compare to the majesty of even the smallest mountain peak? Beyond the farthest temple stretched the high wall, studded with towers, bristling with parapets, screening Sanction against any army that dared to approach it from the plains. For the first time, Ashtaway began to see the true potential of Sir Kamford's plan, suspecting that the knights might meet with bold success even though they attacked a place where, all told, they might be outnumbered by something greater than one hundred to one.