From publisher blurb:
Undîm stood at the edge of the parapet, squinting off to the south. The wind fluttered his cloak, whistling above his armor and through his mail, stirring his beard. The sky arced blue and inifinite above him, making him feel alone and exposed, despite the surrounding troops. "Any word?" he asked.
Shand shook his grizzled head. "No, sir. Nothing since the refugees arrived at Athal."
Undîm growled and looked down the southern pass. "He's coming, I can feel it."
Shand squinted off tot he south as well. "Why wouldn't he take the underground road?"
"There's no room to maneuver. Better to expose yourself to ambushes from the surrounding peaks."
Whatever Shand was going to say next was lost when one of theguards shouted and pointed south. Undîm squinted harder and could just make out a cloud of dust creeping over a spur of peaks.
That's him," Undîm said.
Urzarâg. The name brings up images of despair, broken dreams and lost glory. It's the seed of evil, the home of a Warlord. It's a breeding ground for Orcs and the rallying point of armies. From here the Ords flow, waging war against the Mortals of the world.
This was once the greatest Dwarven kingdom in Balkanâth.
But glory is fleeting.