rom Garroting Deep。 And as the sun climbed higher； he made out the long curve of peaks running south and then west from the valley of Mithil Stonedown to Doom's Retreat。
Then the light reached down to the hills which formed the eastern border of the Plains between Kevin's Watch and Andelain。 Now he could follow the whole course of the Mithil River northwest and then north until it joined the Black。 He felt strangely elevated and mighty。 His gaze had never prehended so much before； and he understood how High Lord Kevin must have felt。 Standing on the Watch was like being on the pinnacle of the Earth。
But the sun kept rising。 Like a tide of illumination； it flooded across the Plains； washing away the last of his blindness。
What he saw staggered him where he stood。 Horror filled his eyes like the rush of an avalanche。 It was worse than anything he could have imagined。
He made out the Warward first。 His army had just begun to march； it crept south along the mountain wedge。 He saw it as hardly more than a smudge in the foothills； but he could gauge its speed。 It was still two days from Doom's Retreat。
Hiltmark Quaan's force was closer to him； and farther from the Retreat。 But the horsemen were moving faster。 He estimated their numbers instinctively； instantly； he knew at once that they had been decimated。 More than a third of the two hundred Bloodguard were gone； and of Quaan's twelve Eoward less than six remained。 They hurried raggedly； almost at a dead rout。
Raging at their heels came a vast horde of kreshat least ten thousand of the savage yellow wolves。 The mightiest of them； the most powerful two thousand； bore black riders…ur…viles。 The ridden kresh ran in tight wedges； and the ur…vile loremasters at the wedge tips threw torrents of dark force at every rider who fell within their reach。
In an effort to control the pace； restrain it from utter flight； Eoman turned at intervals。 Twenty or forty warriors threw themselves together at the yellow wall to slow the charge of the kresh。 Troy could see flashes of blue fire in these sorties； Callindrill and Verement were alive。 But two Lords were not enough。 The riders were hopelessly outnumbered。 And they were already
well beyond the Mithil River in their race toward Doom's Retreat。 Even if they ran no faster； they would reach the Retreat before the marching Warward。
Quaan had been unable to gain the last day that the marchers needed。
Yet even that was not the most crushing sight。 Behind the wolves came the main body of Lord Foul's army。 This body was closer than the others to Kevin's Watch； and Troy could see it with appalling clarity。
The Giant striding at its head was the least of its horrors。 At the Giant's back marched immense ranks of Cavewights at least twenty thousand of the strong； ungainly rock delvers。 Behind them hurried an equal number of ur…viles； loping on all fours for better speed。 Through their ranks； hundreds of fearsome； lionlike griffins alternately trotted and flew。 And after the Demondim…spawn came a seething； grim army so huge that Troy could not even guess its numbers： humans； wolves； Waynhim； forest animals； creatures of the Flat； all radiating the fathomless blood…hunger which coerced them…many myriad of warped； rabid creatures； the perverted handiwork of Lord Foul and the Illearth Stone。
Most of this prodigious army had already crossed the Mithil in pursuit of Hiltmark Quaan and his mand。 It moved with such febrile speed that it was little more than three days from Doom's Retreat。 And it was so mighty that no ambush； however well conceived； could hope to stand against it。
But there would be no ambush。 The Warward did not know its peril； and would not reach the Retreat in time。
Like jagged hunks of rock； these facts beat Warmark Troy to his knees。 〃Dear God！〃 he breathed in anguish。 〃What have I done？〃 The avalanche of revelations battered him down。 〃Dear God。 Dear God。 What have I done？〃
Behind him； Lord Mhoram insisted with mounting urgency； 〃What is it？ What do you see？ Warmark； what do you see？〃 But Troy could not answer。 His world was reeling around him。 Through the vertigo of
his perceptions； his clutching mind could grasp only one thought： this was his fault； all of it was his fault。 The futility of Korik's mission； the end of the Giants； the inevitable slaughter of the Warward…everything was on his head。 He had been in mand。 And when the debacle of his mand was over； the Land would be defenseless。 He had served the Despiser from the start without knowing it； and what Atiaran Trellmate had given her life for was worse than nothing。
〃Worse；〃 he gasped。 He had condemned his warriors to death。 And they were only the beginning of the toll Lord Foul would exact for his misjudgment。 〃Dear God。〃 He wanted to howl； but his chest was too full of horror； it had no room for outcries。
He did not understand how the Despiser's army could be so big。 It surpassed his most terrible nightmares。
Wildly； he surged to his feet。 He tore at his breast； trying to wrest enough air from his unbreathable failure for just one cry。 But he could not get it； his lungs were clogged with ruin。 A sudden loud helplessness roared in his ears； and he pitched forward。
He did not realize that he had tried to jump until Terrel and Ruel caught his legs and hauled him back over the parapet。
Then he felt a burning in his cheeks。 Lord Mhoram was slapping him。 When he flinched； the Lord pulled close to him； shouted into his eyeless face； 〃Warmark！ Hile Troy！ Hear me！ I understand…the Despiser's army is great。 And the Warward will not reach Doom's Retreat in time。 I can help！〃
Dumbly； instinctively； Troy tried to straighten his sunglasses on his face； and found that they were gone。 He had lost them over the edge of Kevin's Watch。
〃Hear me！〃 Mhoram cried。 〃I can send word。 If either Callindrill or Verement lives； I can be heard。 They can warn Amorine。〃 He grabbed Troy's shoulders； and his fingers dug in； trying to gain a hold on Troy's bones。 〃Hear！ I am able。 But I must have reason； hope。 I cannot…if it is useless。 Answer！〃 he demanded through clenched teeth。 〃You are the Warmark。 Find hope！ Do not leave your warriors to diet〃
〃No；〃 Troy whispered。 He tried to break away from Mhoram's grip； but the Lord's fingers were too strong。 〃There's no way。 Foul's army is too big。〃
He wanted to weep； but Mhoram did not let him。 〃Discover a way！〃 the Lord raged。 〃They will be slain！ You must save them！〃
〃I can't！〃 Troy shouted in sudden anger。 The stark impossibility of Mhoram's demand touched a hidden resource in him； and he yelled； 〃Foul's army is too goddamn big！ Our forces are going to get there too late！ The only way they can stay alive just a little longer is to run straight through the Retreat and keep going until they drop！ There's nothing out there…just Wastes； and Desert； and a clump of ruins； and…！〃
Abruptly； his heart lurched。 Kevin's Watch seemed to tilt under him； and he grabbed at Mhoram's wrists to steady himself。 〃Sweet Jesus！〃 he whispered。 〃There is one chance。〃
〃Speak it！〃
〃There's one chance；〃 Troy repeated in a tone of wonder。 〃Jesus。〃 With an effort； he forced his attention into focus on Mhoram。 〃But you'll have to do it。〃
〃Then I will do it。 Tell me what must be done。〃
For a moment longer； the sweet sense of reprieve amazed Troy； outweighing the need to act； almost dumbfounding him。 〃It's going to be rough；〃 he murmured to himself。 〃God！ It's going to be rough。〃 But Mhoram's insistent grip held him。 Speaking slowly to help himself collect his thoughts； he said； 〃You're going to have to do it。 There's no other way。 But first you've got to get through to Callindrill or Verement。〃
Lord Mhoram's piercing gaze probed Troy。 Then Mhoram helped the Warmark to his feet。 Quietly； the Lord asked； 〃Do Callindrill and Verement live？〃
〃Yes。 I saw their fire。 Can you reach them？ They don't have any of that High Wood。〃
Mhoram smiled grimly。 〃What message shall I give？〃
Now Troy studied Mhoram。 He felt oddly vulnerable without his sunglasses； as if he were exposed to reproach； even to abhorrence； but he could see Mhoram acutely。 What he saw reassured him。 The
Lord's eyes gleamed with hazardous potentia