CHAPTER 2
Drudging out of the darkness you see now a vast open mouth dotted by orange lights. The river then, shields the field and borders the wall of the fortress; one that is of white stone and of grey or black streaks, and of orange windows and complicated jutting palisades. One of three walls that stretch far out so that they touch the ends of the stone hills; and of white gleaming towers that erect themselves to reach the upper ceiling of the mouth. Then you see that the city has but a single solid steel gate; barred and groaning.
And you see lances of fire, and clouds of arrows; and you hear horns like thunder and howling wolves, and screams of all different kinds. And you see and hear the groaning of machines spitting large shooting things that pierce the walls and leave them bleeding. And you see the soldiers, and they are wild men: plumed, horned, inlaid with fur and snarling faces, and mail and plate and chopping deathly howls; and bowing curved spines and legs, and long ears and noses, and hawk-like paintings, and screaming, bleeding muscle.
"The monks! We must save them!"
"No...we are done here. We must run."
"But don't you see? Even now they sends their soldiers, but they are not enough! Soon they will send the diseased, sick and maimed, and the fortress will collapse!"
"I nay care doctor! We make our final stand at the Gates and Walls of Bronze!"
"What of the sage, Olabach?"
"Cur, what are you talking about? No...Turn back now!"
You face him. His is a scowl.