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。。。 The Pool。 We must seek him at the Pool。 He will know what to do 。。。
Sorrow。 They have called down the final sorrow 。。。
As the twittering things blew past； blind Guthwulf slowly smiled。 Whatever they were； spirits of the dead or bleak products of his own madness； they always came to him out of the depths； from the deepest； oldest parts of the labyrinth。 They came from below。。。 and he wished to climb。
He turned and shuffled into the left…hand tunnel。
The remains of Naglimund's massive gate had been plugged with rubble； but since it was lower than the surrounding wall and the piles of broken stone offered purchase for climbing feet； it seemed to Count Eolair the logical place for an assault to begin。 He had been surprised when the Sithi had concentrated themselves before a blank and undamaged stretch of wall。
He left Maegwin and the contingent of anxious mortal warriors under Isorn's mand； then crept up the snowy hillside to join Jiriki and Likimeya in the shell of a broken building a few hundred ells from Naglimund's out…wall。 Likimeya gave him a cursory glance； but Jiriki nodded。
〃It is almost time；〃 the Sitha said。 〃We have called for the m'yon rashi…the strikers。〃
Eolair stared at the contingent of Sithi before the wall。 They had stopped singing； but had not moved away。 He wondered why they should risk the arrows of the Norns when whatever their singing was intended for seemed finished。 〃Strikers？ Do you mean battering rams？〃
Jiriki shook his head； smiling faintly。 〃We have no history of such things； Count Eolair。 I imagine we could devise such an engine； but we decided to fall back on what we know instead。〃 His look darkened。 〃Or rather； what we learned from the Tinukeda'ya。〃 He gestured。 〃Look； the m'yon rashi e。〃
A quartet of Sithi were approaching the wall。 Although he did not recognize them； Eolair thought they looked no different than the hundreds of other Peaceful Ones camped in Naglimund's shadow。 All were slender and golden…skinned。 Like most of their fellows； no two seemed quite alike in the color of either their armor or the hair that streamed from beneath their helms； the m'yon rashi gleamed against the snow like misplaced tropical birds。 The only difference the count could see between these and any other of Jiriki's people was that each bore a dark staff long as a walking…stick。 These staffs were of the same odd gray…black stuff as Jiriki's sword Indreju； each was knobbed with a globe of some blue crystalline stone。
Jiriki turned from the Hernystirman and called out an order。 His mother rose from her crouch and added words of her own。 A contingent of Sithi archers moved up until they surrounded the group near the walls。 The bowmen nocked arrows and drew； then froze in place； eyes scanning the empty walls。
The leader of the m'yon rashi； a female Sitha with grass…green hair and armor of a slightly deeper green； lifted her stick and slowly swung it toward the wall as if she forced it against the flowing current of a river。 When the blue gem struck； all the m'yon rashi chanted a single loud syllable。 Eolair felt a tremor in his bones； as though a tremendous weight had struck the ground nearby。 For a moment the earth seemed to shift beneath him。
〃What？。。〃 he gasped； struggling to find his balance。 Before him； Jiriki raised a hand for silence。
The other three Sithi stepped forward to join the woman in green。 As they all chanted； each in turn brought his staff forward to strike in a rough triangle around the first； each syrup…slow impact reverberated through the earth and up through the feet of Eolair and the other observers。
The Count of Nad Mullach stared。 For a dozen ells up and down the wall from where the m'yon rashi stood； the snow slid off the stones。 Around the jeweled heads of the four staffs； Eolair saw that the stone had turned a lighter shade of gray； as though it had sickened somehow…or as though it were covered with a web of fine cracks。
Now the Sithi lifted their striking…rods away from the wall。 Their chanting grew louder。 The leader struck again； a little more swiftly this time。 The silent thunder of her blow rolled through the icy ground。 The rest followed suit； each strike emphasized by a loudly chanted word。 As they struck for the third time； bits of stone began to shiver loose from the top of the high wall； falling down to vanish into the high snow。
The count could not contain his astonishment。 〃I have never seen the like！〃
Jiriki turned； his high…boned face serene。 〃You should go back to your folk。 It will be only a moment more and they should be ready。〃
Eolair could not take his eyes from the strange spectacle。 He walked backward down the hill； steadying himself with his arms outstretched whenever the shifting ground threatened to topple him from his feet。
At the fourth impact； a great section of the wall crumbled and fell inward； leaving a hole at the top that looked as though some huge creature had taken a bite from it。 Eolair at last realized the imminence of what Jiriki had told him and hurried the rest of the way down to Isorn and the waiting Hernystiri。
〃Ready！〃 he cried。 〃Be ready！〃
There was a fifth shuddering； the strongest yet Eolair lost his balance and fell forward； tumbling down the hill until he rolled to a stop； his nose and mouth stinging and cold from the snow。 He half…expected his troop to laugh； but they were staring wide…eyed up the hill past him。
Eolair looked back。 Naglimund's great wall； as thick as the height of two men； was dissolving like a wave…struck sand castle。 There was a loud rasping of stone on stone； but that was all。 The wall fell down into the banks of white with an eerily muffled sound。 Great gouts of snow were thrown up everywhere； so that a fog of white flakes filled the air； obscuring all。
When it cleared； the m'yon rashi had retreated。 A hole a dozen ells across was opened into Naglimund and its shadows。 Slowly； a sea of dark figures was filling that hole。 Eyes gleamed。 Spear…points glimmered。
Eolair struggled to his feet。 〃Men of Hernystir！〃 he cried。 'To me！ The hour has e！〃
But the count's troops did not budge； and instead it was the horde within Naglimund that came surging out through the breach； swift and uncountable as termites swarming from a shattered nest。
There was a great clang of blade on shield from the Sithi ranks； then a flight of arrows hissed out； felling many of the first Norns rushing down the hillside。 Some of the Norns carried bows as well； and clambered up onto the castle wall to shoot； but for the most part neither side seemed content to wait。 Wth the eagerness of lovers； the ancient kindred rushed forward to meet each other。
The battle before Naglimund quickly became a scene of horrible confusion。 Through the swirling snow； Eolair saw that more than the slender Norns had issued from the crack in the wall。 There were giants； too； creatures tall as two men and covered with gray…white fur； yet armored like humans； each bearing a great club which crushed bones like dry sticks。
Before the count could even retreat toward his men； one of the Norns was upon him。 Incredibly； though a helm hid most of his pale face and armor covered his torso； the black…eyed creature wore no shoes； his long feet carrying him across the powdery snow as though it were solid stone。 He was swift as a lynx。 As Eolair stared in amazement； he almost lost his head to the Norn's first sweeping blow。
Who could faThorn such madness？ Eolair pushed all thoughts but survival from his mind。
The Norn bore only a small arm shield； and with his light sword was far faster than the Count of Nad Mullach。 Eolair found himself instantly plunged into a defensive struggle； wading backward down the hill； encumbered by his heavy armor and shield； almost betrayed several times by treacherous footing。 He fended off several blows； but the Norn's exultant grimace told Eolair that it was only a matter of time before his sinewy opponent found a fatal opening。
Abruptly； the Norn stood straight； his jet eyes puzzled。 A moment later he sagged forward and fell。 A blue…fletched arrow quivered in the back of his neck。
〃Keep your men together； Count Eolair！〃 Jiriki waved his bow as he shouted from up the slope。 〃If they are separated from each other； they will lose heart。 And remember…these foes can bleed and die！〃 The Sitha turned his horse and spurred back into the thick of battle； in a moment he was obscured by snow and the twisting shapes of battle。
Eolair hurried downhill toward the Hernystiri。 The hillside echoed with the shrieks of horses and men and even stranger creatures。
The confusion was almost plete。 Eolair and Isorn had only just managed to rally their men for a charge up the hill when two of the white giants appeared at the top of the rise； carrying between them the trunk of a tree。 With a choking roar； the giants came rushing down on Eolair's men； using the tree like a scythe to crush all who were caught between them。 Bones shattered and red…soaked forms vanished beneath the churned snow。 A terrified Hernystirman managed to p