As they walked through the dark fields, Taem glanced back beyond the trail of their lanterns, back to the torches lining Dolam’s walls, searching for any pursuit. He heard the drone of the celebrations of the Festival of Masks far in the distance, but the grassland the company walked through was quiet, bar from the light pad of their steps and the odd snort of their horses. Looking forward, Taem saw how the Gate Wall loomed out of the darkness. High up in the black sky, Taem could see the line of burning torches on the battlements of the great wall, a line of flickering lights that stretched far into the distance. The torchlight and the shadows made the forbidding wall seem even greater than it had done in the daylight. ‘We will have to wait here until morning,’ Logan gestured for the Hand of Fire to halt, ‘and take what rest we can find.’ They had stopped on what seemed to be the edge of a village. Because of the many lanterns and torches, Taem could see armed Defenders moving in the shadows at the bottom of The Gate, at the far end of the settlement.
