Atop the walls, half a dozen prominent merchantmen who had traded in jewels or precious metals looted from Airgead Mountain had already made hasty retreats. Twenty years ago, they'd been young men willing to risk their lives for a chance to make their fortunes, and they'd been lucky enough to escape with more than just their lives.
Now, however, the drums that haunted their dreams for years after they'd left the mountain had returned, and none of them intended to stay to witness the horrors that followed the sound of those drums.
But it wasn't the drums that had Adala leaning out over the parapet with her breath standing still in the winter air. Rather, it was the rider emerging from the darkness at the column's head.
