A heavy, grinding rumble shook the limestone cliffs behind them.
High on the canyon wall, five hundred imperial engineers knocked away wooden chocks. Iron-banded carts tilted forward.
Twenty tons of jagged granite and crushed limestone poured down the gorge. The avalanche hit the narrow neck with a deafening crash, raising a dense wall of chalky dust.
The southern road vanished under a mountain of broken rock.
Elder Sterling leaned against his longsword scabbard, his knuckles white. “They sealed it. General Dravus truly blocked the southern pass.”
“Of course he did,” Kaelen Vance said from the carriage seat. “Moving boulders downhill is much easier than marching five thousand soldiers through a choke point. If I were Dravus, I’d have done it before lunch.”
Deacon Vane wrung his silk sleeves, staring at the dust cloud. “Young Master, we’re trapped. We have three days of water at most.”
“Then we should walk slowly,” Kaelen replied. “Running only makes people thirsty.”
