Chapter 173

Beneath the last light of the setting sun the sky was a wash of scattered crimson.

A host of a thousand elite soldiers appeared slowly upon the horizon. Behind them a great cloud of dust rose and rolled higher, so that from a distance it looked as though a sandstorm were sweeping across the land.

Domeric rode at their head in armour black as ink, a cloak of black satin strewn with stars about his shoulders, mounted upon a tall warhorse. At his command a bleak horn sounded. The column gradually slowed and came to a halt three leagues from the Bloody Gate.