"Got to stop them." The stone shelf underneath Logan was crisscrossed with fractures. "A little more weight, and this would shatter like an egg." He glanced back up the boulder-strewn slope. "The right lever beneath the right stone at the right time…"
This was exactly the kind of job Logan loved-moving fast, striking hard, vanishing. His brother would call him a mercenary, but Logan preferred leather armor to polished steel.
Staying low, Logan drew back from the cliff's edge and motioned for his team to follow. They picked their way up the boulder-strewn slope. At last, near the peak, Logan found what he sought-a great round stone poised on a lip above the rest and hidden from the canyon by a fir tree.
In its shelter, he gathered his team. "Ready to strike a blow for humankind?"
Twelve pairs of eyes returned a look of eager resolve.
"We'll need a lever-a sapling, stripped of branches. And we'll need a fulcrum, flat on the bottom and angled on top. This stone, here, will start the rockslide."
"Close off the gap," said Wescott, "before the charr can march through."
"Exactly. We've got little time. Wescott, take Perkins and Fielding and get us a lever. Bring the tree down quietly, out of sight from the canyon. Everlee, work with Dawson and Tippett to position the fulcrum. Castor, take the rest of them to scout an escape over that ridge to the west. When we bring this rockslide down, this hill will be swarming with charr."
"We've never faced charr," said Everlee. "We're not Vanguard or Seraph."
"Thank the gods you're not. You'd be in a hundred pounds of plate mail." Logan grinned. "No, we're scouts-fast on our feet. Now, get going."
The young scouts went swiftly and silently.
While his teams worked, Logan climbed to a lookout point. He surveyed the scene-the keystone boulder, the rockslide slope, the choke point that would soon become a wall, the canyon…
From it rose a streaming banner of dust, kicked up by hundreds of claws on the march. Logan watched the ribbon of dust rise and stretch and coil, approaching the choke point. "Almost time." He withdrew, rejoining his team beside the trigger stone.
Already, they had a long bole poised atop a fulcrum, and the team had positioned themselves on either side of the lever.
"Hold," Logan said, lifting his hand. He peered down the slope to see the snake of dust approach the choke point. "Now!" The scouts heaved on the lever. It strained against the fulcrum, hoisting the great boulder. The huge rock creaked forward, tilted up on the lip of stone, and tottered. The scouts climbed onto the lever, and Logan put his hands on the rock: "Push, you sods!"
The boulder teetered beyond the lip and began to roll. It bounced once against the slope and bashed another boulder. The second rock rumbled down as well. These two struck more, setting off a chain reaction. Giant rocks leaped into motion, and the hillside became a thundering herd of stone.
The ground shook.
Logan and his comrades stared in awe.
The rockslide reached the cliff and poured over it, breaking loose more stone. Massive blocks hurled themselves into the canyon and funneled in to fill the gap. Dust and debris plumed above the cleft while more boulders cascaded down. They piled atop the charr, forming an impassable wall. "We've done it!" Logan called to his team, pounding Wescott's shoulder.
The last of the stones tumbled down, and the roar of rock gave way to the roar of the legion-a sound of fury.
Logan cringed. "Everyone, stay low and out of sight. Castor, take us over that ridge. And quickly!"
The young woman nodded, turning to lead them down a dry wash, through a cut of trees, and to a narrow pass over the ridge. They left the roar of the charr legion in the valley behind them and gazed out on a rugged but silent wilderness.
"Well done, everyone," Logan said. "We bought the caravan a day, maybe. Might've even crushed some of the vermin. Still, some of the charr'll track us, so we can't go back to the caravan. We've got to lead them as far away as possible before the sun quits us."
Centurion Korrak Blacksnout led three hundred charr soldiers through the Blazeridge Gap. The centurion lifted his grizzled face, snorting dust from lionlike nostrils and sneezing. The scars that crisscrossed his dewlaps seized up as if his face might fall apart. The old creature blinked cloudy eyes and ran a claw over his horns, broken from hard campaigning. He growled, "Can't wait to sink my claws into some fat human merchants."
"They say it's the last caravan," said Legionnaire Sever Sootclaw beside him. "They say Queen Jennah's going to get the asura gate in Ebonhawke repaired. It'll be a highway for troops."
"Let her try! We'll turn our siege to storm and tear down the walls and the damned gate," Blacksnout growled. "In the meantime, we've got to stop this caravan!"
"Got to get through the pass, first," muttered Rytlock Brimstone.
Korrak shot a hateful look at him. The dark-furred Brimstone wasn't even Iron Legion, just a Blood Legion cur who'd volunteered for this thankless duty. "What are you doing up here, Soldier Brimstone?" growled Korrak. "I sent you to the rear so I wouldn't have to listen to you."
"I came up to warn you."
"About what?"
Rytlock grunted his disbelief. He nodded horns toward the steep canyon walls. "You're heading into a trap."
"To the animal mind, all is a trap," Korrak hissed, though he, too, scanned the upper canyon. "Where's your courage?"
"It doesn't take courage to march into a trap," Rytlock snorted, eyes narrowing beneath black brows. "It takes idiocy."
Korrak snapped, "Watch your mouth, soldier!"
"Don't you see the rubble fields up there?" Rytlock gestured with pointed claws. "If I were trying to stop a charr legion, that's where I'd be."
Korrak whirled on him. "Is that what you're trying to do, Brimstone-stop a charr legion? Trying to stop me!"
"Heh heh," Rytlock chuckled. "If I wanted to stop you, Centurion, you'd be stopped."
Korrak seized Rytlock's armor and planted the barrel of his axe-rifle in the upstart's throat. "What are you doing here, Brimstone?"
"I told you, warning you about the trap."
"No! I mean what are you doing here, a thousand miles from your own legion?"
"I go my own way!"
"Only because they wouldn't have you! They drove you off-your own legion-not because you couldn't fight. I've seen you fight. No, it's because they couldn't stand you!"
Brimstone's eyes blazed, and his nostrils flared as if he had heard this speech countless times. But a slow smile spread across his lips. "You've got it wrong. I couldn't stand them."
"Or anyone else."
"I don't suffer fools."
"Insufferable!" Korrak roared, jabbing the barrel of his rifle deeper into Rytlock's jaw. "Why shouldn't I empty that hateful head of yours?"
Rytlock's eyes still blazed, unflinching. "You Iron Legion cowards are all alike, hiding behind your guns."
Korrak Blacksnout lowered the axe-rifle, and his voice became a deadly growl. "If this is a trap, Brimstone, you're going into it first." He waved his rifle toward the defile. "March!"
The Blood Legion rogue stared at him for a moment, then marched ahead of the column. He trudged into the narrowest section of the canyon.
Behind him, Blacksnout walked with the rifle aimed ahead, his dewlaps stretched in a smile. "Why do you fear humans, Soldier Brimstone? They're cowards in caravans. They've lost Ascalon, and they're losing Ebonhawke. You have nothing to fear from them."
"I don't fear them," Rytlock replied thoughtfully, looking up the rock wall. "I know them."
A few more steps brought Korrak and a dozen other charr through the choke point. "You even think like a human."
There came a boom like a mallet blow, and the crackle of rocks.
The charr looked up.
Sound lagged sight: A huge rockslide was scouring the slope above. The tumbling chaos of boulders poured over the edge of the cliff before the roar of it reached their ears.