With regards to the otaurs, their origins are ultimately unknown. The most prevalent theory is they were great warriors from the lost land of Sakon and also once very much human. Facing certain destruction at the hands of an enemy from the north, they were given the strength of a bull by a mage in an attempt to defend their lands.  However, the spell also transformed in the process.  And, sadly, even with the magic they failed to turn back the invaders.

Duas Tual, Master Historian of the Hitithe Empire.

Cabbat unrolled a scrap of parchment on the table before Cassandra.  Within her command tent erected in the shadows of the Sagon Wall, he prepared to explain his findings. "There are two natural fissures running parallel with the gorge walls."  His finger ran down one side of the canyon on the crude map he had drawn and then the other.  "Based on Halond's scouting report, these would be ideal places to set the barrels of powder.  By my calculation, we'll need about eighteen barrels to shake loose the rocks of the canyon walls above the Mours Towers."

"Eighteen?"  Cassandra asked, uninterested in the details—only the end result. "And how many did you say we have?"

"Fourteen."

The general scowled upon being given clarification that she hadn't misheard the dwarf's previous statements.  "That's not news I want to be hearing."

"Look, I brought all I had, sweetheart.  It takes a lot of time to make the powder.  It's very unstable in large batches, so I have to make it in smaller runs. Which reminds me."  Cabbat turned to the overly stuffed pack resting at his feet and pulled out a long wooden box with brass hinges and a pair of draw bolt latches.  Resting it with a loving ease atop the map, he unclipped the latches simultaneously and pulled back the lid to reveal another revolver nestled inside on a pillow of red silk.  "An upgraded prototype," he said.  "This one will give you five shots before reloading instead of only three."

While the dward stroked his beard with a sense of pride, Cassandra reached in and retrieved the weapon.  It's finish was more polished than the one she carried.  With her other hand, she proceeded to pluck out one of the twenty-five cartridges from the cylindrical holes holding them.  "These are," she turned the ammunition over with an examining eye, "smaller."

"They are," the dwarf replied.  "Less powder per charge, and a longer, more streamlined projectile."  He drew her attention to the elongated cone of the brass slug.  "For greater accuracy at a distance."

"At the risk of sounding ungrateful, it seems like it will make a less impressive statement."  Cassandra popped open the cylinder of the new weapon and slid the bullet into one of the available holes with the click of metal on metal.  "I'd be lying if I said I didn't particularly enjoy the punch my present one provides."

Cabbat snorted, holding out his hand.  "Let me show you something. Give me the one you're currently using."

Still holding the newest version of the weapon, Cassandra retrieved the previous model from her belt and put it into the dwarf's waiting and grimy fingers.

"See this here?" Cabbat pointed to the slightest of cracks in the end of the barrel.  "I've been doing some calculations on the size of the current charge and the strength of the metal.  This one's on the verge of failing.  You have maybe two or three more shots before this one blows up in your face.  I'd hate to see anything happen to that pretty mug of yours, general."

With a shrug, Cassandra displayed her indifference to the announcement.  "Looks fine to me."  Then she proceeded to fill the remaining four slots in the new weapon's cylinder with more of the available rounds.

The expression that fell over Cabat's face was one like that of someone with of knowledge trying to teach an unwilling child the ways of the world.  "Who's the dwarven inventor and master of engineering here? Me or you? I'm telling you, two or three more shots.  That's it.  This sort of stuff fails catastrophically.  That newer model will last pretty much indefinitely with the stronger steel barrel and the lighter charge in the cartridges.  It won't make a hole the size of Mours Canyon in someone like you're used to, but it'll do its job."

"Thanks for the upgrade." Cassandra pushed the cylinder in, hearing the click denoting it was secure.  Tucking the new version into the same place once occupied by the now outdated one confiscated by the dwarf, Cassandra turned her attention back to the more pressing matter at hand. "What I want to know is how do you plan to use fourteen barrels of powder to do the work of eighteen?"

"We're going to need to seal up as much of the crevasse as possible.  See, the stone here is hard. Really hard.  So the pressure wave from the explosion is going to seek the path of least resistance.  That's going to be up, in case there is any question on that matter.  If that happens, we're going to lose too much energy to achieve the desired effect.  So, your soldiers will have to fill in the gaps with boulders once the charges are in place to make sure the force of the blast doesn't get wasted."

"I'm glad you understand all this."  Cassandra leaned on both arms over the map.

Cabbat tapped his finger to his temple.  "Dwarven minds, darling, are not something to be taken lightly.  We always have a solution.  Besides, it looks like the walls of the canyon are getting ready to start collapsing, anyway.  In about another thousand years or so.  We're just going to speed things up a bit.  I'll come up with the necessary placements for each barrel.  You just make sure your troops aren't averse to getting their hands dirty and some hard labor."

"They'll do what I tell them to, Cabbat.  All I want from you are assurances this will work."

"From what I'm seeing?  Once we ignite the powder?  Somewhere between two and five thousand tons of rock will be toppled on those inside the canyon.  If that isn't enough stone to bury them, I don't know what is.  Aye, it'll work.  And if it doesn't?  You can have me drawn and quartered."

"Or I could just shoot you with your own invention."  Cassandra smiled, patting the holster of the revolver in her belt.

"That too."  Cabbat laughed.  "And it'd be ironic, for sure.  But I'm not worried.  This plan will work.  You have my word as a dwarf, sweetheart."

"Sir!" The recently arrived soldier from the Mours Towers' garrison stood at strict attention, his armor gleaming and still, waiting for Lagos Dunn to acknowledge him.  

Which he did, but not before leveling a hard stare at the man for the interruption. "What is it?"

"Sir, our scouts report the Imperial force has doubled in number since yesterday at their positions along the northern and southern edges of Mours Canyon.  Mours Bridge is also now fully manned by archers."

He nodded.  "Have they moved into the Gap?"

"Yes, sir.  There are footsoldiers and cavalry now on the floor of the canyon. The dragons they've flown in remain on the other side of the Sagon Wall."

After a short silence, and no further words from his underling, Lagos Dunn asked, "Is that all?"

"No, sir.  Although the reports are unconfirmed, it appears General Nightwing has been spotted in the area.  It seems likely she is leading the forces personally, sir."

The mere mention of her sister caused Sheala's attention to snap away from what had been a side conversation between her, Reane, and Sayra while the towers' steward attended to the interruption.  Reane held a finger up to her lips, reinforcing the need for silence on the matter, but even Sheala didn't need that reminder.

"Also, sir," the soldier continued, "Imperial forces seem to be placing barrels of some sort in two of the longer crevasses up on the surface near the towers and then burying them."

Hand to his chin, Lagos Dunn pondered that odd bit of news.  "To what end?"

"Unknown, sir."

"Very well then," he nodded.  "Let me know the moment we determine why or anything changes with regards to the positions or demeanor of the Imperial troops."

"Yes, sir!"  Spinning on his heel, having finished delivering his report, the soldier marched out to a clank of armor.

Lagos Dunn returned with a contemplative slowness to the women and the previous conversation they'd shared.  "Looks like we've run out of time," he said.  Pointing to a map representing the tunnel system flowing out from Mours Towers and through the canyon walls, he called one out in particular.  "This one here is the tunnel you'll need to take.  The exit is about a quarter mile east of the Sagon Wall and a significant distance behind the Imperial troops now guarding the canyon."

"What about our horses?" Reane asked.

"They're not going to fit.  Sorry.  You'll have to take only what you can carry."  Switching maps to one of the region east of the wall, he pointed.  "There's a farm owned by Semoe Gorrund, he's a rebel loyalist and also someone sympathetic to our cause.  You can resupply there. He's usually got a nice selection of horses available.  For purchase, mind you, not free."

"Of course," Sheala groaned.

"At a discounted rate, of course," the towers' steward added.  "I'll give you a password."

Reane downplayed the concern. "We've got enough coin that it shouldn't be a problem." After some quick math, she commented, "Looks to be about a day's walk, but we can handle that.  Just need to avoid Imperial patrols."

"Good.  We'll hold the attention of these Imperials while you get a head start to the east."

"How long can you hold out and give us?"

Lagos Dunn stood up, his pride beaming through his stance. "Mours Towers has stood for centuries.  They won't fall now, if that's what you're asking."

"Those mysterious barrels," Reane said, "the ones your scouts said are being placed in the crevasses.  They don't have you concerned?"

"We're not going to fight the Imperials on their terms.  We're not going to the surface.  So, whatever they are, are of no consequence.  Because my troops won't be anywhere near them."

"I think you're taking them too lightly."  Reane folded her arms and pondered the information. "You're assuming that they are some sort of tactic to aid in fighting if the battle moves to the surface.  But that seems like too much and too precise of a preparation for a maybe.  Surely they know you're not likely to go up there when you've successfully defended Mours Towers without doing so in the past."

"What can barrels buried in the ground above do to us here in the canyon?"

"They're explosives."  Brentai entered the room, accompanied by Anthony and Gregory, all the men joining the meeting after returning with one of the scout teams he'd gone out with.  "Their setting explosives.  I saw what looked like crude fuses being run to the barrels.  My people do similar things with Pelsan Fire.  In addition to being extremely flammable, it's very explosive when in a confined space such as a clay bottle or urn—or a barrel."

"You think they've gotten their hands on Pelsan Fire?" Reane asked.

"No.  The barrels are the wrong type and size.  But what they are doing is very similar to mine fields we'd set up on battlefields to hinder an advancing enemy."

Lagos Dunn leaned on the table, indicating how the move made even less sense to him now than even before. "To what end?  As I said, we have no interest in engaging them on their terms.  If they want to take these towers, they'll have to come to us."

The thought of the plethora of random, and often large boulders they had avoided during their travel down the ravine, forced a thought into the sea captain's mind, and she spoke it. "How common are rockslides around here?"

"Rockslides?" the steward repeated the word.  "Pretty common.  There are always parts of the canyon walls coming down here and there."

Reane nodded.  "They're going to try to start one.  A big one.  Right on top of us."

"How would that even work?"

"You'd be surprised," Brentai jumped right back in with his knowledge.  "Pelsan Fire Mines are only about the size of my fist."  Reane's first mate held up his balled hand to provide a reference. It was only slightly larger than an average man's.  "When they're buried and go off, they create a divot about three feet around and equally deep.  I agree with Reane.  They're going to try to blow the rock apart and send it crashing down on us."

Brentai's opinion forced the congregation into a silent meditation on his assessment.

Lagos Dunn was doubly quiet as anyone else, almost as if he didn't even breathe.  Then he nodded. "We can't allow that. In light of this development, it appears I'll have to send soldiers to the surface of the canyon after all to disarm these explosives.  This tactic by the Imperials is too dangerous to take lightly.  Just last year, we had a small four foot boulder from the canyon above the southern tower drop down.  It destroyed a sizeable portion of the tower's upper battlements and took months to repair. If you'll excuse me, I need to take my leave to make preparations with the troops.  Ladies." He bowed to Sheala, Sayra, and Reane.  "And good sirs."  He then did the same towards Brentai, Anthony, and Gregory as he left the war room.

Once the steward had gone, Sheala spoke about the other news they'd heard; news only important to her.  "If my sister's here—"

Reane frowned, not needing her mental talents to comprehend Sheala's plan.  "It's not the right time, Sheala."

"Why not?"  The squeak in the voice of Aurthur and Eliza Stormband's eldest daughter was pronounced.

"As much as I understand how badly you want a family reunion, this is about to become a battlefield.  And your sister isn't likely to have the same intentions and desires.  If your key falls into the hands of the Empire, we're one step closer to those end times Steward Dunn was previously so hopeful for."

A frown pulled down on Sheala's lips. "I'm getting tired of playing hide and seek. Look, I know my sister. I know if I can talk to her, I can persuade her—"

"To do what? Hmm? Look, right now, she's the Empire's top commander.  She's killed more rebels and other assorted people in cold blood than you can count.  And you want to do what? Waltz into camp and have a chat with her over a cup of tea?  As much as I understand how badly you want to see her?  This is about to become a battlefield.  And your sister isn't likely to have the same intentions as you do.  Our first priority must be to get east.  Not engaging in wishful thinking."

Sheala started to speak, but held the words back.  Lowering herself down into a nearby chair, she sulked.

"It is difficult," Sayra said in response to her less than enthusiastic body language.  "Your desire is understandable. But I agree with Reane on this one."

"As do I," Brentai added.  "An opportunity will present itself at the proper time.  But now is not that time.  You would jeopardize everything if you focus on your sister right now."

"How come," Sheala said, turning misty eyes onto those with her, "it seems like the Fates are against me and my sister?  You know what my fear is?  It's that one of us isn't going to survive long enough to be reunited. If I lose her?  Like I've lost everyone else?"

"You still have us."

Sheala turned her head down at Brentai's statement.  She knew he was trying to be helpful, but ultimately he wasn't successful.  "You're not family," she murmmered.  "When it's family, it's different."  The former theif turned her attention to Reane.  "Tell me again that if I go to my sister, the world ends.  Tell me so I won't be tempted to do it."

"The world ends." Reane's words slid out of her with a nod and the breath required.  "If you go to her, the world ends.  Please, Sheala, patience."

Sheala stared off, her thoughts replaying the last night she'd seen her sister over and over.  She should have gone after her.  Cass was right.  Ebeth and his gyspies were not the right place for either of them and she should have left with her twin.  "Ok." That was all Sheala managed to say along with a now forming tear.