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force Gellor was raising was to assist the Prince of Ulek in his effort to take Strandkeep Castle and make war upon the men and humanoids of the Pomarj. Of course, Gord was ready, being more interested than ever in the undertaking. The young thief was clever enough to know that there was more to this than a simple military campaign, no matter the worth of that fight. Greenleaf had refused to speak of any other purpose save joining with the dwarven monarch, and this whetted Gord's appetite for the whole business still more! Next day, the pair had quitted the walls of Greyhawk for the countryside and the long journey southward for the Pomarj. Thus had Gord come to the shores of the Azure Sea, helped to take the great fortress of Strandkeep, and dispatched many of its evil garrison, men-at-arms and their masters alike…
    "I said, a brass bit for your thoughts!" Gellor nearly shouted in his ear.
    Gord snapped out of his reverie, and blinked rather foolishly at the hard-featured bard. "I was reflecting on the past… Sorry."
    "You might have no future unless you use your senses," the man replied sarcastically. "Keep the blank expression, and don't look around – keep your eyes on me." Still smiling, Gellor added, "There are at least a score of verbeeg to our rear. I've seen them several times now. Those blasters can run, you know, and they're in a crescent formation behind us. I'd say that they want us to keep moving ahead… into whatever ambuscade their fellows are preparing for us somewhere close ahead!"
    Gord wanted to turn and see if he could spot the following verbeeg. He had heard of these giant-sized men, creatures eight or nine feet tall, often gross and deformed, and as mean as they were ugly. He had never actually seen one, for as fierce as verbeeg were, they were hunted by men – an act of self-preservation, of course, for if given opportunity the verbeeg would rape, plunder and destroy the communities of their smaller cousins. In these hills it was not unexpected that such creatures would be found, dwelling in relative harmony with humanoid beasts and savage ogres and giants, as likely as not.
    Gord looked quizzically at Gellor. "What are we going to do?" he asked in a low tone.
    "Curley, tell that horse of yours to pull up as if he were lame," the one-eyed bard told his other companion. "Be quick!"
    Soon Greenleaf was bending forward in his high-backed saddle. He patted the steed's neck, but no distant onlooker would have noticed anything else. Suddenly, the big stallion began moving in an odd gait, limping and favoring its right foreleg, as if some stone had bruised its iron-shod hoof.
    "How's that?" the druid asked Gellor.
    In reply, the one-eyed adventurer raised his hand, turned in his saddle, and called the column of men to a halt. "Rest!" he called. "Greenleaf s mount is lame. I'll explain what we will do." As he shouted all this, he turned his own courser slowly, riding back to the various and sundry lieutenants and minor spell-workers who rode near the head of the column. After a brief conversation there, these men rode back along the column of lancers and mounted sergeants with crossbows, all the way to the handful of officers and tough adventurers who guarded the company's rear.
    The four files of" riders quickly split into two halves, one spreading out casually to the left, the other to the right, while the tail of the column moved forward. This maneuver was not done with seeming precision; horses were reined only loosely, heads low, and allowed to graze. There was certainly a plan behind it, however, and Gord noted that the animals' movements were quietly guided by knees and heels. Everyone seemed quite relaxed, though, even as the former column suddenly shaped itself into a line, two ranks deep, lancers to the rear, crossbowmen and the rest in front.
    "What is Gellor doing?" the puzzled young thief asked his friend. "Why are we forming for a charge with our lancers behind? And what reason to charge