Forran’s Ridge lay barely half a day’s ride to the south, and it was everything that Matt had been hoping it would be and more.

  The road was a simple, broad dirt path. Carts and travelers had packed it down a little, but it wasn’t as wide as some of the other roads in the Kingdom. At its biggest, he could picture half a dozen men standing abreast, or maybe five mounted. Large enough for a band of merchants or the occasional farmer’s cart, but not something an army would enjoy. Especially not a massive one like the Army of Heroes.

  It bent around the Ridge, turning north and up to pass between it and another hill to the east. That part of the land was far steeper, rising in a flat, unclimbable cliff of grey rock. Thick forest bordered both sides of the road after the bend, along with occasional smaller cliffs like shelves or steps as the terrain went up and over the incline.

  Around the bend, the road ran along the length of the Ridge to the west. The Ridge itself sloped up and away to the north of the path, its slope cloaked with trees and undergrowth, while to the south there was more thick undergrowth and a slightly steeper slope that ran down towards a riverbed somewhere in the distance. It wasn’t as deep as he’d hoped, but it was enough.

  He rode along the road heading west, trying to get a feel for how long it was. Nelson ambled along at a decent pace, while Matt looked up at the Ridge, seeing how the hill was shaped. Infantry could charge down it, but most cavalry would probably have trouble. At least there would be plenty of cover.

  Gorfeld and Grufen trailed along behind him, both silent as he moved along the path. It curved and wove along the hillside, clinging to the flank of the Ridge for something close to a mile or more. Then it abruptly swerved to the south, heading further towards the Sortenmoors.

  Matt stood staring at the road for a moment longer. Then he nodded. “Margrave Grufen.”

  Grufen’s response was instant. “Yes, sire.”

  “I want our forces out here immediately.” He pointed back along the road, to where it bent to head north. “Around the curve, I want you to construct a barricade across the road. The biggest one you can, partway up that slope.”

  The Margrave nodded slowly. “Yes, sire. We’ll defend it?”

  “No.” Matt shook his head. “That’s just to block them in.” He pointed to the slope south of the road. “Once the barricade is up, I want ditches dug a short way south of the road. Get them as deep as you can without making them obvious, with stakes at the bottom.”

  It was clear the Margrave had questions now. After all, it sounded like Matt wanted defenses placed on the downhill side of the road, and only an idiot would deliberately try to attack uphill. Still, Grufen swallowed his impatience and nodded again. “As you will, King Matthew.”

  Matt then turned and pointed up at the Ridge. “Once those are dug, I want them to prepare the hillside. I want to be able to hide troops all along the Ridge, just off the road.”

  “All along the Ridge, sire?” This time, the bafflement was clear on the Orc’s face. “We’ll be spread fairly thin.”

  “I know.” Matt nodded grimly. “Our troops are probably going to need to be ready to charge into two-to-one odds. Maybe four-to-one, in some cases.”

  Grufen jerked a little in his saddle, as if Matt had slapped him. “Sire, at those odds…”

  Matt sighed and looked back along the road. “Those are the odds we’re dealing with, Margrave. This ground is the best way to even the chances, but it won’t stop the imbalance of numbers.”

  He pictured it in his mind, watching a nearly endless line of soldiers marching in lockstep. “On an open field, they’ll roll right over us with those troops. Here, though?” Matt smiled. “They’ll be marching in a line. They won’t have those pikes lowered, the archers will be spread out over the length of the column, and the cavalry will be mixed in with the rest of them instead of protecting their flanks. If we can catch them here, and hit them hard enough before they get organized…”

  Then he looked back at the Ridge. He pictured his thin line of troops there, covered by hope and the forest. “The Shadow Hunters can use illusions to help the ambush. Have them spread out along the line. Make sure that no one in the city knows anything about this plan, either. The last thing we need is for some Alliance spy to tell the enemy exactly where we are.”

  Grufen was still watching him, his expression showing the struggle the Orc was going through. “Sire, if this plan fails, we’ll be destroyed. Our line will be so thin that a single breakthrough could rout us. There has to be some other way.”

  Matt met Grufen’s eyes with a steady look. “There isn’t, Margrave. We take them on the march, or they’ll take us anywhere else. Now get your troops moving. I expect them to be in position and well prepared by the time the Alliance arrives here.”

  The Margrave’s expression grew exasperated at last, his discipline seeming to break down. “And where will you be, sire?”

  “Where else, Margrave?” Matt turned Nelson back towards Harvesthold, a sardonic smile on his face. “I’m going to be the bait.”

  Matt continued to look over the maps in his antechamber, memorizing and re-memorizing the route he would need to take. The ambush had to be perfect; if the Alliance had any suspicion his troops were waiting for them, or if they chose another route, it would be a disaster.

  “I’m guessing that if I try to tell you this is stupid, you’re just going to ignore me, right?” Tanya was watching him, her anger and frustration clear on her face.

  He gave her a quick look. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And why does it have to be you playing the hero this time?”

  Matt shrugged. “I’m the only thing we know the Alliance is going to chase. Their Oath is going to be like a ring in their nose, pulling them along no matter what they want. It’s the only way I can know exactly where they are going to be, and when. We need that right now.”

  Tanya snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you wanting to put these Alliance folks in their place.” She looked away. “The thing about that Oath… it’s starting to get out now. People are saying things. They’re mad.”

  He paused and then nodded with a grimace. It had to leak out eventually, and he supposed that now was as good a time as any. At the very least, he’d probably be far away from any nobles that wanted to resolve things by just killing him themselves. “Well, at least I’ll have a good reason to watch my back when we finish this.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t get it. They aren’t mad at you. I think there have been a ton of freeholders trying to sign up for the Irregulars today. Like, more than Grufen knew what to do with.”

  Matt froze. He stared at her in astonishment. “They’re… what?”

  Tanya sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s surprising that some of them might be a little attached to you at this point. Seriously, if an assassin tried to get to you now, they’d have to survive the mobs coming for them. Even the nobles think the Alliance has gone too far.”

  He started laughing. “I guess they probably think they have first dibs on my corpse?”

  “It’s not funny!” Tanya took a step towards him, her dark eyes blazing. “These people care about you, cowboy. They want to protect you, and here you are riding out into danger to protect them. None of this makes any sense!”

  Matt started to answer when a soft knock at the door interrupted him. “Enter!”

  Gorfeld stuck his head around the door. “Sire? I’m not… interrupting anything, am I?”

  Tanya folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. “Oh please. He still has a long way to go before there’s anything to interrupt, Gorfeld.”

  The Imp gave her a skeptical look before he turned back to Matt. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sire, but Lord Angru has sent a gift for you.”

  Gorfeld reached back around the doorframe and pulled the item in after him. The thing was shaped like a rod of some kind, wrapped in grey cloth. It was heavy; the Low Imp seemed to have trouble with the weight unless he held it in both hands. Matt frowned and walked around his table to take it from his steward.

  It was heavy, but Matt still felt like he could lift it easily enough. He spent a moment unwrapping the thing, noticing that the cloth had been dyed in Hard Scythe colors. Obviously, Angru had believed the gift was important…

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Matt’s thoughts faded as he tugged the cloth aside to reveal a beautifully crafted war mace. It had been forged from some kind of dark steel, with a head that sported six flanges around the head, like the feathers on the end of an arrow. He held it in one hand and swung it experimentally. The weapon felt right in his hands, like it had been balanced for him. There was even space on it for him to use two hands to swing, something his old mace hadn’t had.

  “Great, you gave him another club.” Tanya glared at Gorfeld, as if she was blaming the steward. “Aren’t we supposed to try and keep him away from fighting instead of giving him something to run up and bash people with?”

  Gorfeld raised an eyebrow. “I believe that Lord Angru means this as a gift, in thanks for your help with the border dispute. He noticed you had gone into battle unarmed, and made inquiries.”

  Matt swung it again. The more he held it, the better it felt. Was it some kind of magic? “He has my sincerest thanks.”

  His steward nodded. “He also sent a message, I believe.” Gorfeld drew out a small piece of folded parchment. Matt took it and read it, his eyebrows climbing to the top of his scalp.

  “Well, what does it say?” Tanya’s curiosity was clearly outweighing her frustration. She crossed the room to try to peek over his shoulder.

  “To my liege. May you reforge us, as we have reforged this weapon. Return safely, and rule.” Matt shook his head and looked back at the mace. It seemed he’d done a fairly good job of winning Angru over, somehow.

  Tanya snatched the note from him and read it herself. She frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Matt looked at Gorfeld, who shrugged. “There were rumors that Margrave Grufen spoke with him repeatedly since we talked with the scouts. Many are saying that Angru has been persuaded to make freeholders of all the Clan’s serfs, but there are many who doubt he would change his mind so easily.”

  All of a sudden, it felt a little hard to swallow. Matt looked down at the mace for a moment, focusing on breathing. It took him a moment to trust his voice again. “It’s changing, isn’t it? Now, right when the Alliance is going to try to take it all away from us. The Kingdom is changing.”

  Gorfeld nodded. “Yes, my liege, it is.”

  Matt nodded. Then he nodded again, his fingers tightening on the mace. “Then we’d better not get ourselves killed. Is the lifeguard ready?”

  “Yes, sire, it is.” Gorfeld smiled faintly.

  “Then tomorrow we ride west—and the real war with the Alliance begins.”

  Matt rode out into the sunlight of a warm spring day.

  There were clouds in the sky, but they weren’t rainclouds. At least, not yet. Matt hoped that any more rain would hold off until he had met the enemy first. Fighting and marching in the rain would not be fun, even if it wasn’t a last-ditch attempt to survive.

  They rode along the same road they had taken to reach Harvesthold. Gwelfed had told him that the Alliance was close to it anyway, and he imagined they would be using it to either enter the Sortenmoors or march on the Broken Hills.

  Before long, they were traveling south, a spring wind at their backs. The hills of the Alterian Princedom rose on their right, and Matt knew that his entire lifeguard was watching them for signs of the enemy.

  It was about halfway through the second day when Gwelfed cried out, and Matt laid his eyes on the Army of Heroes.

  Gwelfed had not been exaggerating.

  The Army sat like a carpet across the southern road, having apparently paused for a midday meal. There were banners as far as the eye could see, with some of the cavalry making a slow patrol around the rest of the camp. Matt could see the pikemen resting their weapons against supply carts, obviously weary from having carried the things on the march.

  Yet that wasn’t the sight that caught his attention the most. He pointed at one particular banner, the one that was in the very center of the swarm. The banners over it marked warriors from the Knights of the Raven, the Order of Lion’s Roar, and the Onyx Clans. One of them rose above them all, a deep blue flag with a rising sun on it. “That’s the one?”

  “Yes, sire.” Gwelfed nodded. “I think they call that one the Band of Heroes.”

  He nodded. The rulers leading the army were probably there, but they were almost a secondary concern now. Knowledge about pikes, longbows, and trebuchets hadn’t appeared from nowhere. Someone had given them to the Alliance, which meant that the Alliance had somehow visited Earth. There weren’t many people who could do that; in fact, Matt was fairly sure there was only one.

  It had to be Alerios, the Wizard who had opened the portal to Earth the first time. The man had been captured from the Circle of Echoes; apparently, whatever questioning he’d undergone had broken him. He was the only one who could have brought the enemy to Earth. A visit to a nearby library could have told the Alliance everything they needed to know. Who knew what they could end up learning if they continued to visit?

  All of which meant that Alerios had become the Alliance’s most valuable asset. They wouldn’t just stick him in some cell; he’d need to be guarded by their strongest warriors. At the same time, they wouldn’t leave their best fighters at home. With the Oath, maybe they couldn’t.

  Which meant that in all likelihood, Alerios was right there, at the center of that army, being guarded by the very Heroes he’d armed. Even if the rest of the army escaped, Matt had to make sure that the Wizard didn’t. One way or the other, Alerios needed to be rescued, or ended.

  Matt shook himself out of the trance he’d fallen into. He glanced at the others. “We need them to follow us! That means we ride by, flying our flag, and then head west. Do not stop for anything or anyone. Understand?”

  The lifeguards nodded. He tugged slightly on Nelson’s reins, guiding the warbuck away from the road. It would be a little rough to ride cross-country for a while, but that would be much better than trying to ride through the center of the horde in front of them.

  As he rode past, he heard horns sound within the camp. A glance backwards told him that the Army of Heroes was suddenly on the move; it looked almost like he’d kicked an anthill full of soldiers. Some of the patrolling cavalry were riding out after his little party of bodyguards, and he grinned as his group outraced them easily.

  They’d made it through the first part of the plan. Now they just needed to finish it.

  The next two days fell into a very familiar pattern.

  Each day, his small band moved out ahead of the Army of Heroes. The massive army trailed along in their wake, apparently unwilling to leave behind the bulk of their forces to chase after him. It was a fairly wise decision—it wasn’t like Matt hadn’t drawn them into an ambush before—but they didn’t seem to want to bring anything less than their full force after him now.

  Not that they didn’t have tricks. The first night, the army tried to march through the dark. Only Wonoll’s shouts got them up and moving in time to avoid them. Another time, they tried sending detachments out ahead of them to cut the smaller group off, but Matt’s little party just barely managed to stay ahead of them.

  He did notice that they were positioning themselves to cut him off from the south, however. They wanted him to retreat back to Harvesthold; maybe the city had been their original objective in the first place. When Matt led his group back into the wilderness southwest of Harvesthold, the Army of Heroes chased after them with all the eagerness of a hunter whose quarry had backed themselves into a corner. He and his lifeguards kept leading them further along the road, trusting that their comrades had prepared the trap for them.

  Despite himself, Matt still wondered which of them would be correct.

  Matt waited in the forests of the Broken Hills and tried to ignore the roiling swamp of fear, excitement, and fatigue mixing inside him.

  They were barely a handful of miles from Forran’s Ridge, and he was waiting for Gwelfed to report back. The Goblin scout had slipped away from his party in an attempt to make sure that the Army of Heroes was still in pursuit. She had promised that she would be back soon, but until she arrived, he had to sit and wait.

  Overhead, a ceiling full of rainclouds had rolled in. The wind had turned cold and harsh, carrying the smell of rain. A few drops had already been falling, a down payment on the storm that the sky promised later.

  He felt another cold gust and told himself that the rain might act as cover for the ambush. Of course, it could also slow down the Army of Heroes enough to cause a delay.

  There was movement on the road to the Ridge, and Matt pivoted to see a Warg and rider coming down the trail. He waved over to the messenger and smiled when they accelerated. The Goblin did not waste words. “Sire, the ambush is set. Is the enemy coming?”

  “They are.” Matt glanced back down the road, hoping to see some sign of Gwelfed. “Everyone is in place?”

  “Yes, sire. Just follow the road until you reach the barricade. The Margrave is waiting for you there.” The messenger looked back toward where the top of the Ridge was just barely visible above the trees. “I need to report back, sire. Good fortune.”

  Matt reached out and shook the Goblin’s hand. “Good fortune to you as well.” The messenger nodded and sped off down the road. Mud showed the pawprints for a moment, but Matt was confident that they wouldn’t be noticed by the advancing army.

  Balred spoke up next to him, his voice kept to a low rumble. “Scouts, sire. Five of them.”

  He nodded. Some of the lifeguards were already getting their bows ready. The Army had been sending out hunting parties all day, but they mostly just seemed to want to keep track of where Matt and his group were located. They were never large enough to really fight—at least, not since the two or three that they had turned back by force the first day—but they were still persistent about showing up every so often.

  Matt examined them. They were riding greatelks, not warbucks; that meant they were conscripts, not Chargers. “Over their heads. We want them to report back.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  The lifeguards held their fire for a few more moments, letting the cavalry get closer. Then they fired a collection of arrows, magic, and crossbow bolts that sent the riders fleeing back the way they came.

  Another gust of wind tore by as Matt watched the retreating Knights. This time, it set the branches overhead creaking and groaning. He glanced up as the air went still. It was not a good sign for the weather. After a gust like that, he would have bet his last dollar that it was about to rain hard for the next few hours. No matter how the ambush turned out, he would be fighting for his Kingdom in the mud.

  His prediction seemed to come true a moment later as the first heavy drops started to pummel their way through the leaves. He saw some of the lifeguards shift unhappily in their saddles, but none of them suggested leaving. Today was too important to lose track of their mission.

  As the rain steadily increased, the road softened into mud. He grimaced, thinking of what it would be like for the soldiers on the road. They would have been marching hard for the past two days, chasing an irritating band of riders that was always one step ahead. Now their uniforms and armor would be soaking wet, their boots would be mired in the muck, and it would be harder and harder to see. His own troops weren’t going to be much better off, but at least they weren’t marching along the muddy track.

  “I’m back, sire.”

  Matt practically jumped out of his skin before turning to face Gwelfed. She sat there on her Warg, grinning at him through the rain. The increasing downpour had completely covered her approach. “Are they still moving?”

  “Yes, sire, and fast. I think they mean to reach the city today.” She glanced up at the sky. “Maybe they want to chase you down, or maybe they just want to make camp before this gets much worse. I don’t think we need to bait them anymore.”

  He nodded. “Then let’s get moving. If they’re marching that hard, I don’t want to discourage them.” The others nodded, and they set off towards the Ridge. Matt’s heart was hammering in his chest as the rain continued to come down. Just another few hours, and everything would change.