Lost and alone, disheartened by failure and wanting only to go home, Thomas Gown and his companions face the darkest hour of their lives when they stumble across a remnant of the once mighty Agglemonian Empire. There they make a stunning discovery t...
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"So what exactly is the situation?" demanded Resalintas impatiently. He'd had just about enough of Adamaster Hurgis's caution and tact. "Are you saying we're going to lose Ilandia?"
"Very, ah, probably, yes," replied Hurgis, unsettled by the priest's directness. "Now that Fort Battleaxe has been, ah, taken, Silverlode is the only one of the four great eastern fortresses still standing. As you know, they were the, ah, bastions of our eastern defences, and without them the enemy will be able to range at will throughout our country. There are already reports of, ah, scouting parties within five miles of Tatria itself, and it can only be a matter of days before the capital comes under siege."
"So what?" demanded General Dormon angrily. "This city is vastly larger and stronger than Fort Battleaxe, which only fell when it was engulfed by the Shadow. The Shadow has now stopped its advance, I believe. Isn't that true?"
"Yes, Sir," replied an aide. "It stopped about three miles west of Fort Battleaxe and hasn't moved since. It seems that the enemy has deliberately overextended himself and that the expansion of the Shadow into Ilandia was only achieved at the expense of withdrawing it in other places. They don't yet have the power for a general increase in the size of the Shadow."
"Not yet," muttered Colonel Andalactus to himself.
General Dormon got to his feet and glared down the length of the conference table at the tiny tactician. "So what," he repeated, "is the problem?"
"The problem," sighed Hurgis, as if unable to believe the General's stupidity, "is that the, ah, living component of the enemy forces alone outnumbers us by over three to one. Their zombies are even greater in number and grow with every Ilandian killed, and they have more wizards than us, some of whom are more powerful than any of ours. That alone should, ah, terrify you. Add to that the wyverns, the giants, the demidrakes, the elementals, and the fact that Tatria does not, ah, does not have an Orb of Proofing..."
"We have other forms of magical protection," interrupted Dormon angrily. "I can assure you that the enemy are in for a considerable surprise if they try to use magic against us."
"You're forgetting that, thanks to the clay men, the enemy almost certainly already knows all about your magical defences!" replied the master tactician, his uncontrollable twitch beginning to manifest itself, "and they will modify their spells accordingly."
"You cannot..." began the General.
He stopped as Milus Rona, High Prefect and the Emperor's personal representative, the ruler of Ilandia in his name, stood and raised his hand for silence. "Mister Hurgis," he said in his deceptively smooth, silky voice, "in your professional opinion, how long can Tatria hold out once it comes under siege?"
Hurgis took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Four, five weeks," he said. "A month if we're, ah, lucky."
"That's a load of..." began the General, but the High Prefect cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. "And then?" he asked.
