.

it’s done.”

      Taavi chewed on the piece of meat a bit longer. Then he spoke again.

      “Since the rest of our soldiers have made it through the mountain pass from our home territory, and you have seen the new weapons—the machine guns—we have acquired, along with all the ammunition needed, and the new radios, we have demonstrated our commitment to this alliance.

      “I have thought some more about our arrangement. If the bomb doesn’t work, we’ll have to retreat. My men will be the most at risk. I think we should be paid one head of cattle for every three soldiers killed, not four.”

      “If we fail to breech the wall you’ll get your payment, as we agreed—” Tristan began.

      “I have something I would like to show you,” Sjund said and placed his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “If you and the other elders would follow me to the blacksmith’s tent?”

      Taavi looked at the other elders on his side of the table. They all nodded. Sjund removed a lantern from the table in front of him. Taavi got the walkie-talkie.

      “If a lantern is near you, bring it,” Sjund announced.

      Sjund led all the elders from each clan outside; their guards followed each clan. A slight glow to the east gave an indication of the approaching dawn. Through the blowing snow, the group moved between the orderly rows of tents in the Denock camp. They entered a tent twice the size of the long house. A large earthen furnace occupied the center, its smokestack protruding through the roof. The metal workers were gone, but red coals still burned inside. Sjund stopped by the bare frame of a wagon. The wooden beams were thick and interlocked with metal brackets; the large wood-spoked wheels were half Sjund’s height. In the center of the frame, mounted to metal rails, stood a metal cone. The diameter and depth of the hollow cone were as big as Sjund was tall. At the apex of the cone was a five-centimeter hole.

      “This is the war wagon,” Sjund announced loudly so the whole group could hear. Sjund pointed to a stack of metal plates by the wagon. “These plates will be attached to the outside and top of the frame, creating an enclosure for protection. My assistants and I will drive it to the appropriate place against the exterior of the wall. Once the nitroglycerin is made and poured into canteens, the canteens will be attached to the inside of the cone and a stick of dynamite, placed in the hole, will be used to detonate them. We will slide the opening of the cone flush against the wall and then detach the back half of the wagon, and while the fuse burns we’ll retreat to a safe distance. The cone will focus the energy of the explosion. I know a spot where the wall is weak. We will breach it there.”

      Sjund stood in front of Taavi. “You are correct; you are taking the brunt of the initial assault. I am sure we can agree to your proposed adjustment. Rest assured, my bomb will work.”

      Taavi nodded. “And if we’re successful, and occupy the Tower, then the elders of our clan get first pick of the women captured, three for each elder—”

      “And half the cattle and horses from the village, as agreed.” Tristan finished the alliance agreement for him. “But first, your man must make it inside the wall. Since he should’ve reported hours ago, I’ve sent other scouts to see if they could find any of your man’s tracks in the snow crossing the riverbed. I expect their report at any time.”

      Taavi nodded again. He looked at Sjund. “You are from the clan with the Tower. You don’t care that your father and the other elders, perhaps even their wives and children, will be killed?”

      “If I could, I’d do it myself.”

      “Why do you hate them so?”

      “That clan is run by twisted old men that believe in ancient fables and laws. They care nothing of the people, only of their secret power source. All laws are contrived with its preservation at their core.

      “I was in line to lead the clan. I didn’t believe in their superstitions, but I concealed it well enough. My plan was to one day take over the clan, then I would use the power to make life better. I fell in love and married. We had a son. Just the birth of my son violated their law. They killed my son and my wife. I couldn’t live among them after that,” Sjund answered.

      Taavi gave a knowing frown. The door of the blacksmith’s tent flung open, cold wind and snow rushed inside, and the flames of the lanterns wavered. A Denock scout stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He pulled the hood of his parka back and removed the balaclava from his head. “We found the Asus soldier. He lay dead just this side of the riverbed. We brought his body back with us.”

      “How would they know?” asked Taavi.

      “It could just have been a random encounter. We’ve lost several men to snipers this year,” Tristan said.

      The men became uneasy. Sjund looked at the reporting scout. “Did you find his backpack with him, or his radio or knife?”

      “No, sir,” the scout replied.

      The Asus elders whispered among themselves.

      “Take three other scouts and retrieve both repeater stations from the hilltops,” Tristan commanded the scout.

      “Yes, sir,” he replied and left the tent.

      “It’s safe to assume we have lost the advantage of surprise,” Taavi said. “We are going to return to our camp to reconsider the situation before deciding to go to war upon the clan behind the wall alongside you.”

      “We should attack at once,” Sjund said, “before they have a chance to prepare and before winter makes it impossible to be outside!”

      The Asus elders whispered some more. Taavi looked at Sjund. “We will discuss it tomorrow.” He and the other Asus elders filed out the door into the predawn light, followed by their guards.

      Tristan waved at his guards to leave the tent. When they were all gone, Sjund spoke. “You should’ve let me go,” he said to Tristan.

      “And what good will you be to us if you are dead? You’re the only person who knows how to make the nitroglycerin and attach it properly to this damn cone on this wagon. More importantly, besides your father, you’re the only one who knows how to start the machine—the reactor. And I am sure your father would die before he showed us.” Tristan leaned against a wagon wheel.

      “We should attack now. The longer we wait the more they can prepare—and the worse this damn cold winter is getting,” Sjund insisted.

      “And so can we. A few more days won’t matter. It’ll be just as cold for the Tower clan as it is for us on the battlefield. Besides, the loss of surprise may be a good thing. A few less Asus soldiers we have to deal with in the future. But I am sure they’ll want a bigger share of the cattle and horses after the battle is over.”

      “You should give them whatever they want to get them to join with us. And do it quickly,” Sjund said. “It has taken us five years to get enough materials for a bomb the size needed for this wagon. Now we have the advantage in numbers, and I don’t want to spend another miserable winter in a tent. The way this winter is going we could all be dead if we don’t either get the reactor for heat and the stone dwellings for the soldiers or move south.”

      “And what of the legend of the reactor?” Tristan asked. “The history keepers told us as children that the Tower clan is waiting for a signal from the stars to start the reactor. They are keeping it for themselves, never to be used and never to be shared with outsiders. You’re sure it really exists and is as powerful as the legend says?”

      “Oh yes, it is real—I have seen it. It’s capable of supplying enough power to have electricity in every dwelling, for lights and heat for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years.”

      All the Denock elders nodded and smiled, envisioning life inside a warm stone dwelling.

      “But,” Sjund said, interrupting their dreaming. All the elders stared at him. “The legend is also correct about a signal from the stars. They have been waiting for it for centuries. Should this