"You saw the castle?" Baldric asked.

The young elf nodded. "We got as close as we could on foot."

"Were you seen?" asked Baldric.

"Nay, Sire," said the scout.

Baldric smiled sardonically and shook his head. "I take it there are no horses in the vanguard? Were there bindle, those accursed horse-like creatures used by the goblins?"

"Nay, Sire."

Baldric though in silence for several long moments, remembering his dream, his doubt. At last, he turned to his aides. "Summon my captains. I think we shall attack. It is time to torment our good friend, master Morlock."

Morlock's castle was built on a low hill, and stood within a vast crater. The sides of this crater concealed it entirely, and the castle was surrounded by an evil-looking moat.

The castle was built from a hard, black stone, and its outer wall was eight-sided, with a minaret-like tower at each corner.

Baldric soon understood why the scouts had observed the place unseen. Moving carefully between the hills along the crater's perimeter, they reached the edge and peered down at the castle. There wasn't a single sentry, and the armies stood like an immense black sea about the castle.

"Well," said Baldric to himself, "I can see that they think that they have little to fear."

He felt that although he found himself with time to plan his attack, any plans he might make would be effectless against such a vast host. The background of his thoughts was confounded by the memory of his dream. He fought down a feeling of foundering and forced himself to act. He ordered all but a few observers away from the crater's edge.




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