A flock of blackbirds took flight, screeching wildly. They were not used to strangers. The sight of so many figures, moving toward them, incited panic. In moments the birds were lost against the unbending glare of the sun, but the emptiness was soon filled by a long column of cavalry.

Dusty horses, heads low, trudged over coarse sand and loose stones, their riders dozing in the saddle. Stragglers limped along the column’s flanks, shields hanging from spears borne on weary, bony shoulders. None lacked a wound-these ranged from stray cuts and bruises to missing limbs. More than a few were gray-faced, bearing the unmistakable mark of impending death.

All were elves, many of the Kagonesti strain, but fully half belonged either to the western, Qualinesti line or the Silvanesti, eldest among the ancient race.

At the head of this mournful procession walked Kerianseray, general of all the elven armies. Years in the desert had deepened her natural brown skin tone and given her eyes a penetrating squint. Just now, her eyes were fixed on her trudging feet, willing them to make one more step, and another, and another.

She was leading her griffon. Eagle Eye had come to her as a gift from Silvanesti lords grateful to have escaped their homeland ahead of the invading minotaur host. Kagonesti she might be, but the protocol-sensitive nobles insisted that Kerianseray should have the finest mount in the army, not only as the leader of the remaining elven host but as wife to Gilthas, the Speaker of the Sun and Stars. In skirmish after skirmish, Eagle Eye had proven his mettle, taking the measure of many a fierce minotaur and ushering numerous foes into the hereafter. But even under the guidance of his ferocious rider, he could not reverse the inevitable.

Kerianseray, known to friend and foe alike as the Lioness, had led ten thousand elves south through the desert of Khur, seeking some means of entering the despoiled kingdom of Silvanesti from the north.