They had reduced his home to ashes and killed his family. If it was the last thing he did, Owen would give them a taste of hell. He could almost taste the bittersweet revenge as he rested his hands against the boulder -- waiting. The riders were mounting the trail. He heard voices, and the nearing clatter of iron on rock, though he couldn't see them yet. He gripped a boulder and lifted it so that its mass tumbled forward. A horse screamed and plunged off the ledge and the wailing cry of its rider died away in the chasm. And Owen was just getting started.