must give it up。 But each night Lord Mhoram helped cook the army's food； and then went among the warriors； sharing his courage with them。 And twice during those four days the Warward came upon Bloodguard tending large caches of food…supplies prepared by the villagers of the Center Plains。 Fresh and abundant food had a surprising efficacy； it restored the fortitude of warriors who no longer believed in their ability to drive themselves forward。 At the end of his fourth day on foot…the thirteenth day of the march…Troy finally allowed himself to think that the condition of the Warward had stabilized。
He had walked more than forty leagues。
Fearing to do anything which might damage his army's fragile balance； he planned to continue his own march。 Both Mhoram and Amorine urged him to stop…they were concerned about his exhaustion； about his bleeding feet and unsteady gait…but he shrugged their arguments aside。 In his heart； he was ashamed to ride when his warriors were suffering afoot。
But the next morning he tasted a worse shame。 When the light of dawn woke him； he struggled out of his blankets to find Amorine standing before him。 In a grim voice； she reported that the Warward had been attacked during the night。
Sometime after midnight； the Bloodguard scouts had reported that the tethered horses were being stalked by a pack of kresh。 At once； the alarm spread throughout the camp； but only the mounted Hafts and Warhafts had been able to answer it swiftly。 With the Bloodguard； they rushed to the defense of the horses。
They found themselves confronting a huge pack of the great yellow wolves…at least ten…score kresh。 The Bloodguard on their Ranyhyn met the first brunt of the attack； but they were outnumbered ten to one。 And the officers behind them were on foot。 The scent of the kresh had panicked the horses； so that they could not be mounted； or herded out of danger。 One Ranyhyn； five horses； and nearly a dozen Hafts and Warhafts were slain before Amorine and Lord Mhoram were able to mobilize their defense effectively enough to drive back the wolves。
And before the kresh were repelled； a score or more of them broke past the officers and charged into a part of the camp where some of the warriors； stunned by exhaustion； were still asleep。 Ten of those men and women lay dead or maimed in their blankets after the Bloodguard and Mhoram had destroyed the wolves。
Hearing this； Troy became livid。 Brandishing his fists in anger and frustration； he demanded； 〃Why didn't you wake me？〃
Without meeting his gaze； the First Haft said； 〃I
spoke to you； shook you； shouted in your ear。 But I could not rouse you。 The need was urgent； so I went to meet it。〃
After that； Troy did no more marching。 He did not intend to be betrayed by his weakness again。 Astride Mehryl； he rode with Ruel along the track of the kresh； and when he had assured himself that the wolves were not part of a concerted army； he returned to take his place at the head of the Warward。 From time to time； he cantered around his army as if he were prepared to defend it single…handed。
The kresh attacked again that night； and again the next night。 But both times； Warmark Troy was ready for them。 Though he was blind in the darkness； unable to fight； he studied the terrain and chose his campsites carefully before dusk。 He made provision for the protection of the horses； planned his defenses。 Then he set ambushes of Bloodguard； archers； fire。 Many kresh were killed； but his Warward suffered no more losses。
After that third assault； the wolves left him alone。 But then he had other things to worry about。 During the morning of the march's sixteenth day； a wall of black clouds moved out of the east toward the warriors。 Before noon； gusts of wind reached them； ruffling their hair； riling the tall grass of the Plains。 The wind stiffened as the outer edges of the storm drew nearer。 Soon rain began to flick at them out of the darkening sky。
The intense blackness of the clouds promised a murderous downpour。 It effectively blinded Troy。 All the Hirebrands and Gravelingases lit their fires； to provide light to hold the Warward together against the force of the torrents。 But the main body of the storm did not e that far west； it seemed to focus its center on a point somewhere in the eastern distance； and when it had taken its position it remained stationary。
The warriors marched through the outskirts of the grim weather。 The ragged and tormented rain which lashed at them out of the infernal depths of the storm did not harm them much； but their spirits suffered nevertheless。 They all felt the ill force which drove the blast。 They did not need Troy to tell them that it was almost certainly directed at Hiltmark Quaan's mand。
By the time the storm had dissipated itself late the next day； Troy had lost nearly one Eoman。 Somewhere in the darkness and the fear of what assailed Quaan； almost a score of the least hardy warriors lost their courage； amid all the slipping and struggling of the Warward； they simply lay down in the mud and died。
But they were only eighteen。 Close to sixteen thousand men and women survived the storm and marched on。 And for the sake of the living； Warmark Troy steeled his heart against the dead。 Riding Mehryl as if there were no limit to his courage； he led his army southward； southward； and did not let his crippling pace waver。
Then； three days later…the day after the full of the moon…the Warward had to swim the Black River。
This river formed the boundary between the Center and South Plains。 It flowed northeast out of the Westron Mountains； and joined the Mithil many scores of leagues in the direction of Andelain。 Old legends said that when the Black River burst out from under the great cliff of Rivenrock； the eastward face of Melenkurion Skyweir； its water was as red as pure heart's…blood。 But from Rivenrock the Black poured into the center of Garroting Deep。 Before it passed through the Last Hills into the Plains； it crossed the foot of Gallows Howe； the ancient execution mound of the Forestals。 The water which the Warward had to cross was reddish…black； as if it were thick with a strange silt。 In all the history of the Land； the Black River between the Last Hills and the Mithil had never tolerated a bridge or ford； it simply washed away every effort to make a way across it。 The warriors had no choice but to swim。
As they climbed the south bank； they looked drained； as if some essential stamina or mitment had been sucked from their bones by the current's dark hunger。
Still they marched。 The Warmark manded them forward； and they marched。 But now they moved like battered empty hulks； driven by a meaningless wind over the trackless sargasso of the South Plains。 At times； it seemed that only the solitary fire of Troy's will kept them stumbling； trudging ahead； striving。
And in the South Plains yet another difficulty awaited them。 Here the terrain became rougher。 In the southwest corner of the Center Plains； only the thick curve of the Last Hills separated Garroting Deep from the Plains。 But south of the Black River； these hills became mountains…a canted wedge of rugged peaks with its tip at the river； its eastern corner at the bottleneck of Doom's Retreat； and its western corner at Cravenhaw； where Garroting Deep opened into the Southron Wastes forty leagues southwest of Doom's Retreat。 The line of the Warward's march took it deeper and deeper into the rough foothills skirting these mountains。
After two days of struggling with these hills； the warriors looked like reanimated dead。 They were not yet lagging very far behind the pace； but clearly it was only a matter of time before they began to drop in their tracks。
As the sun began to set； covering Troy's sight with mist； the Warmark made his decision。 The condition of the warriors wrung his heart； he felt his army had reached a kind of crisis。 The Warward was still five days from Doom's Retreat； five terrible days。 And he did not know where Quaan was。 Without some knowledge of the Hiltmark's position and status； some knowledge of Lord Foul's army； Troy could not prepare for what lay ahead： And his army no longer appeared capable of any preparation。
The time had e for him to act