Chapter 158

The stronghold of the Black Ears stood in the heart of a mountain valley, hemmed in on every side by sheer cliffs of rock. The only gate faced forward, ringed by a circle of iron-bound oak palisades more than twenty feet high. Within the fence rose three tall watchtowers. Beyond that, a man-made moat had been dug and filled with water drawn from the mountain streams.

Such a crude stronghold offered far less protection than any noble castle. Yet to force an entry from the front would still cost no small number of lives, and Domeric had brought neither siege engines nor wildfire. On the watchtowers highlanders stood with bows in hand, eyeing the uninvited host below with wary vigilance.

Beneath the stronghold banners filled the sky and spears stood like a forest. Nearly a thousand armoured soldiers waited in ordered ranks, together with the five hundred mountain-clan prisoners who knelt upon the ground. Domeric had no intention of storming the place; the display was meant only as a show of force.