Snow and ice definitely did not agree with Ramn at all.

            Sergeant Ramn of the HomeGuard stood beside his partner, Sergeant Crayla, as a huge burly man in animal furs examined them. The two were part of a row that had been assembled for the NorthMen's Chief, Ranwulf, to inspect the fitness of Surdana's warriors. They were apart pair of Surdanan regulars, foot soldiers bearing odd-looking pikes, standing to the right in scale-mail polished to a bright shine. Ramn shivered just thinking about how cold they had to be. To the duo's left were two knights in glowing, enchanted plate armor armed with mithril longswords and battle-shields. Separated from the others by a meter was a slender young man in ornate leather armor with a mithril shortsword and steel shield. He was the dragon-rider that Lady Rynn had appeared with a few days ago. His Bonded was smaller than the more experience Arokh and the color of a clear sky. The dragon, Mhokra, was standing in the "square" of the Fortress-Town of Ravenshold closely watching his newly Bonded.

            Captain Miles had personally selected Ramn and Crayla for this duty. Ramn stood shivering in borrowed furs over his more customary mithril scale-mail beneath. Standing in the newly fallen, ankle-deep… snow was what they had called it, which was slowly seeping through his well-worn boots wasn't helping any. Crayla was dressed in the same attire and didn't seem affected in the slightest. The small woman never talked much about her past but Ramn thought she came from lands at least as cold as these. The Captain had told them they were the best team in the HomeGuard and that they would do Surdana proud. Ramn had choked back a scoff and saluted his commander. The Sergeant doubted that Chief Ranwulf was very impressed with the polished look of the Surdanan forces arrayed before him.

            Lady Myschala, Ramn was no longer dazzled by her mere presence, stood to one side with a full squad of her personal guard. She was covered in glossy black furs that fit her regal presence perfectly. There was a look of mild annoyance on her face as the Chieftain walked the length of the row once more.

            "Is this truly necessary, Lord Ranwulf?" Lady Myschala asked, rubbing her arms beneath the furs.

            "If we are to be true allies I need to see how strong your fighters are," Ranwulf stopped in front of one of the foot soldiers," They don't look very strong to me."

            Lady Myschala's chest puffed out slightly," These are the finest examples each of their respective forces could muster. You know the fighting prowess of The Dragon-Rider and she says that young Cadwell here shows excellent progress."

            Ranwulf growled as he walked over to peer disdainfully down at Crayla. The Homeguard Sergeant kept her eyes forward and shifted not a centimeter. Then the Chieftain moved to peer at the nearest knight before stomping over to a line of men opposite the Surdanan's. They were all big, strapping young men with lethal looking axes clutched in their meaty fists.

            "These are the newest warriors come to Ravenshold and they have yet to prove their mettle. You will be their test and they will be yours. It-"

            Ranwulf was cut off by the low bellow of a horn from the massive gates behind them that led to the DragonsGate. An answering horn called from the gates to their left. A scout, his fur and armor covered in blood, ran through the open gate behind them and collapsed at Ranwulf's feet.

            " Yeti… dozens of them," he managed to get out before slipping into unconsciousness.

            "Lon!" Ranwulf barked and one of the young warriors hustled to his side," Take him to his bunk, give him a healing potion, and get to your post! "

            A scout came running from the gates leading to the trading post and shouted," Grull… wartoks… blackwings… an army!"

            Ravenhold's defenders boiled from their sleeping quarters as the horns sounded again. All were armed to the teeth with a variety of axes and bows. One of them had an enormous great-axe that made Bruly's look like a child's toy. The veteran warriors ran to their posts without a glance in Ranwulf's direction. Ramn watched it all with calm eyes as Lady Myschala's guard herded her back towards the DragonsGate.

            " Defend Ravenshold! Follow Chief Ranwulf's orders!" she shouted as the gates closed.

            Ramn made sure his scimitar, of the enchanted flame variety, was loose in its bindings as the Surdanan's gathered around the NorthMen's leaders. He was reassured to see that all of the soldiers watched the chieftain with focused intensity and not fear.  The young, unblooded NorthMen warriors all quivered with excited energy as the horn calls boomed louder and louder.

            " Dragon-rider!" the warchief shouted thunderously as though the young man wasn't a half meter away, " Get that great beast of yours into the air and see what comes!"

            Without a word or a backward glance Cadwell ran back toward his Bonded. Ramn kept his eyes forward and only knew the dragon was aloft by the sudden draft of wind on his back.

            "You, you, and you," Ranwulf pointed at Crayla, one of the knights and a foot soldier," Follow those four to their post," four of the burly NorthMen were gestured to," You other three follow the rest. This will be your test. I hope you survive it."

            The Chieftain ran back to his lodge with a hearty laugh.

            Ramn frowned as the others raced to their assigned posts. He turned to his partner, the woman he had fought and almost died for, and actually thought of ignoring the Chieftain's orders. The two had not been easily separated since their first brutal battle and had fought virtually side-by-side for two years.

            Crayla slapped him on the shoulder," I'll be fine. Go and show these NorthMen how a real fighter does it."

            "Aye, sergeant," he said with a grin, tousling her boyishly short hair.

            Crayla laughed, hefted her Fire Bow, and ran to her position. Ramn turned and raced passed the NorthMen's barracks to his own post. The gates were three stories tall and seemingly as solid as its builders. Ramn climbed the ladder to the second story and then another to the archers balcony. A long line of NorthMen manned the slots and looked out in stunned silence at what lay before them. Ramn grabbed a spare bow and quiver from a rack on the wall and managed to find some space to gaze at his approaching foe.

            The large, frost-covered trees swayed crazily as a horde swept towards the Fortress-City. Ramn could see grulls with a bluish tint to their skin racing next to just about every type of wartok the sergeant had ever fought. Those were not the most discouraging of foes they faced this day. Mammoth blackwings, heavens only knew where they had come from, soared through the air above the approaching horde. Massive, lumbering shapes made their inexorable way through the trees cradling enormous battering rams. Ramn had heard of these great brutes from Rynn but they were supposed to be rare. He could see at least four of them charging towards Ravenshold.

            "Ay, Sven! I didn't know you invited your wife!" a gruff voice called from somewhere down the line.

            "Curse you, Raynard! That big one right there looks just like your mother-in-law!" the answer came back.

            "Damn! I think you're right!" a warrior, Raynard the sergeant presumed, leaned over the parapet and shouted," Hey!! You ugly harpy! Go kiss a grull's ass!"

            "Cover!"

            Ramn instinctively ducked beneath the parapet without looking for what had precipitated the warning. Seconds later a thunderous crash reverberated through the guard post and a thick stream of snow burst over Ramn's head.

            "Those bastards are throwing snowballs!" someone shouted in a Surdanan accent.

            "Loose for your lives, you miserable whoresons!"

            Ramn stood, drew an arrow, pulled the feathered shaft to his ear, sighted on the chest of a charging wartok, and loosed. The wartok fell to the ground with the shaft buried halfway through his collarbone. He looked at the longbow in surprise. Surdanan longbows were never that great at penetrating wartok armor at range. Ramn shrugged and drew another arrow. This one found its home in the face of a particularly ugly grull. A grull peered up at Ramn and raised a gnarled hand. The pulsating blue glow began to build around its raised palm.

            "Down!" Ramn shouted, ducking back behind cover.

            Shards of ice embedded themselves in the parapet above Ramn with almost hypnotice thudding sounds. Ramn stood and shot the little bastard through the eye. It was then that he realized how close the enemy was to the gates.

            "Oil!"

            Ramn sighted and loosed until his quiver was empty. He noticed that many others had done the same. There were still a disheartening number of enemies.

            "Out of the way!" a rough voice roared just before Ramn was shouldered out of the way.

            Three of the larger NorthMen carefully carried a cauldron of boiling oil over to an archer's slot and poured its contents into a wide funnel at the base of the parapet. Large holes, only a story above the ground, suddenly spouted a deadly spray of oil around the gates. Grull and wartok alike screamed horribly as they were covered in the scalding liquid. The warriors along the battlements cheered together, but their cries were silenced as one of the huge, grull-like creatures threw its battering ram like a massive spear. When the battering ram met the gates there was a mighty cracking sound that Ramn could feel in his teeth. The wood beneath them seemed to groan in pain.

            "Down!" someone to his left roared and Ramn again found himself ducking for cover.

            The thudding sounds of ice shards burying themselves in the wood came fast and furious. There was another thunderous crack as a second javelin-ram crashed into the gates. Ramn knew the gates, no matter how sturdy they were supposed to be, could take very many more hits like that. Someone had to do something about those bloody giants. Just then a huge shadow passed over the battlements. A bass roar rolled over the battlefield as Mhokra soared overhead. There was a strange buzzing sound that was followed by an eeiry silence. Then a sound unlike any Ramn had ever heard washed over them. It felt as though his eardrums were about to burst from some unseen pressure. He could feel something pushing at him from the other side of the parapet. Small fissures opened in the wood around him as whatever magic the dragon had cast took effect.

            Ramn took a cautious look over the field of battle and his eyes widened in astonishment. All five of the giants had been reduced to meaty chunks scattered all over the battlefield. Entire areas of the forest had been cleared as though a mighty god had flattened them with his palm. Unfortunately one of the magical blasts had been too close to the already fragile gates. It looked as though a huge gap had been opened up beneath them. At least fifty grull and wartoks were flooding through the breach.

            "Now it comes down to the axe!" someone shouted excitedly.

            Ramn watched as the NorthMen donned gloves on one hand and someone unshipped ropes attached to stands that extended into the open air of Ravenshold. There were six stands in all and the NorthMen stepped onto the stands, gripped the ropes, and leapt off into space. The six slid down the ropes with frightening speed, landed at almost the same instance, and charged at the enemy with feverish bellows. Within a half minute the archer's balcony was empty of all but Surdanan's. Ramn looked at the other two from his crouched position and shrugged. The HomeGuard sergeant found a dirty rag and wrapped it around his shieldhand. He drew his scimitar, grabbed a rope, and walked out onto a stand. With a nod to his fellow Surdanan's he stepped off the edge.

            Ramn kept his eyes on where he would land as the battle raged beneath him. The rope swayed violently from his momentum but he held on. NorthMen and beast-men fought in dozens of small battles inside of Ravenshold. The NorthMen never fought in more than groups of three and that could be dangerous when fighting wartoks. He watched as a lone NorthMen felled a wartok with a single blow of his fist and smiled slightly.

            I can't be right all the time, he thought as his feet touched the ground and he was immediately attacked.

            A grull-mage held up its arm and fired ice shards at the newly landed soldier. Ramn raised his shield and dived forward. Several shards ricocheted off the shield but most of them passed harmlessly overhead. Ramn rolled to his feet and took the arm of the offending grull off in one blindingly fast arc. The grull-mage clutched it spurting stump and howled in agony. Ramn mercilessly slashed its throat before moving on. Three grull came at him together, howling for his blood, and Ramn was all too happy to meet them. Casually blocking a bone-shattering mace strike with his shield, Ramn kicked the grull before him in the chin, and slashed the one on the right across the face before it could raise its weapon. The flaming scimitar scored its way across the face of the grull on the left while the beast was still recovering from the kick. Ramn spun away from another mace swing and defeated the last grull with a two-handed blow that nearly cleaved the bastard's head in two.

            An ear-splitting roar made Ramn turn and instinctively raise his shield. That action saved him from the killing edge of a wartok's blow but the force of it took him off his feet. His heart was in his throat but Ramn faced it with the calm of someone with countless battles behind him. Ramn rolled with the blow and got to his feet quickly. The wartok charged at him and brought its arm back for another powerful strike. Ramn dived forward, tucking just as the axe came slamming to the ground behind him, and rolled between the wartok's legs. Ramn uncurled just as the wartok spun around to lash out with his axe. The sergeant sprang over the sweeping strike, spun in the air like a dancer, and his scimitar's flames roared as they passed through flesh. Ramn emotionlessly watched as the wartok's head rose into the air on a fountain of blood.

            Ramn's furs were ripped and beginning to slow his movements so he tore them off as he landed. His well-polished mithril scale-mail shone even in the heavily overcast light. The crossed shield and scimitar on his back were apart of the symbols that told the world at large he was of the HomeGuard. It had taken many trials for him to earn the markings on his chest mail that told something of his military career. Ramn watched in stunned shock as several groups of grull and a few wartoks stopped to stare at him before charging like berserkers. The HomeGuard had been gaining in strength and reputation but such a reaction was very unexpected.

            Without warning the foot soldier that had been assigned to Ramn's station leapt into the midst of a charging group of grull. The Army regular's odd-looking spear whirled around him in a deadly pattern that left carnage in its wake. The man twirled his own body in a dance of death that was beautiful to behold. A battle-cry on his right made Ramn glance there to see the knight attacking several grull and a wartok. The man fought with a brutal yet terrifyingly efficient style.

            Ramn turned and saw that the last group, several grull and a pair of wartoks, were nearly on him. One of the grull began to raise a hand towards him but Ramn quickly drew his own run in the air. With a hoarse cry, Ramn cast his fireball at the group charging at him. The fireball detonated in their midst, covering them all in flames, and only the wartok's remained standing. Ramn charged the two wartok's, who were stumbling around bellowing in mixed rage and pain, and slashed the first across the throat as he passed. The last wartok saw him and swung a burning fist in Ramn's direction when the soldier got within range. Ramn leaned back and sliced the offending grull's hand off at the wrist. Before the wartok had made a sound Ramn had sliced its hamstring. The beast went down with an almost pathetic wail. Ramn held his scimitar in a two-handed grip and brought it down in a swift, precise motion. He kicked the wartok's head away from its quivering body as he turned to find another foe.

            A tiny smile formed on his lips as he saw that there were only a handful of grull and wartoks left. Those few were quickly being dispatched by groups of NorthMen. The smile was short-lived as a thunderous crash drew Ramn's attention to the gates that Crayla had been assigned to. Ramn turned and watched in horror as the entire archer's balcony disappeared in an expanding cloud of ice and snow. Figures leapt onto the descending ropes or climbed down the ladders on either side of the balcony.

            "Crayla!" he shouted and raced towards the gate.

            NorthMen, clutching a wide assortment of longbow, stumbled out of the cloud as he raced to find his partner. The foot soldier and the Surdanan knight were among those coughing their way to the center of the courtyard. Ramn's heart fluttered erratically as he sought sight of Crayla. He grabbed the foot soldier by the collar and pulled him close.

            "Where's Crayla!?" Ramn yelled, their faces only centimeters apart.

            "I don't know!" the foot soldier wrenched Ramn's hand away but not before the HomeGuard sergeant saw the fear in his eyes.

            "Crayla!" he roared again, as the cloud covered both front gates.

            "Ramn!" Ramn never thought he would enjoy hearing someone call his name as much as he did at that moment.

            Crayla's wiry figure, clutching her Fire Bow, jogged quickly out of the icy cloud. Ramn clapped her on the shoulder heartily as soon as she stopped in front of him. She elbowed him in the side as a NorthMen shoved a metallic longbow and a quiver full of glittering arrows into his hands. Ramn raised an eyebrow at Crayla.

            "You'll need them," she said, the smile fading from her face to be replaced by apprehension.

            Ramn grinned," Time for killin'?"

            Crayla's grinned but before she could reply the sound of the gate being wrenched in its tracks brought everyone's attention in that direction.

            "Form ranks!" one of the foot soldiers shouted," The shorter of us on one knee in a staggered line in front of the taller among us! The rear line will form up staggered five meters behind!"

            "Do it, you miserable dogs!" Chief Ranwulf barked as he strode forward garbed in menacing looking plate armor, wolfhead helm, a great axe that crackled with mystical energy, and a huge, humming, metal longbow.

            The NorthMen quickly followed their leaders orders as several bestial roars sounded from the gates.

            "Quickly!" the Surdanan regular bellowed.

            "I want to be behind you," Ramn said, grabbing Crayla's arm and dragging her into position.

            "Oh, I'd like that," he thought he heard her mumble but he couldn't be sure over the pounding emanating from the gates.

            "What did you say!?" he asked, glancing back at her as he moved across the line of the hastily assembled NorthMen, but he only got a big grin in reply. Ramn found a good position for them near the edges of the staggered line," I've got your back! "

            Crayla gave him an almost shy smile," I know."

            Ramn nodded and backed into his position. The bow was surprisingly light and so were the arrows. The arrowheads were large, barbed, and fairly sparkled despite the thick clouds overhead. Ramn looked up just as the first, fat flakes fell.

            Wonderful, he thought, just as the gate exploded into the interior of the Fortress-City.

            Towering shapes barreled through the icy cloud with bestial roars of fury. They looked the size of the giant grull-beasts but these monsters were covered in almost fluffy looking fur. Ramn got impressions of huge claws, lots of teeth, and very nasty dispositions before Chief Ranwulf bellowed for them to fire.

            Ramn loosed his arrow and hoped that the bloody dragon-rider returned soon.