This was the time to trust. It was the only way. Orders to men beyond five yards were pointless. Local leaders picking up on the course of battle were vital. Men of better vision in the thick of metal and blood, of panic and death. Darrick had taught him that and he had trained his own. In this battle, it was making all the difference. All along the line, Xetesk held formation and Dordover fell back.

He heeled his horse again, it kicked a man aside and plunged forward.

'Rusau!' He was almost within touching distance. 'Behind me, jump on.'

From nowhere, pikes thrust from both sides, freed by the movement of bodies. As it had been trained to do, Chandyr's horse stepped smartly back and reared to use its forelegs as a shield. Rusau's panicked creature reared too, but pitched its rider off. The mage fell calling out, grasping desperately, straight onto the point of a Xeteskian pike.

'No!' cried Chandyr, but it was done.

The blade speared straight through the Lysternan's back and out of his chest, breaking his ribcage as it came. Blood rushed from Rusau's mouth and he died, the pikeman dropping the staff and s.n.a.t.c.hing out his short sword, too scared for his own life to realise what he had done.

Chandyr wheeled and galloped from the battle to check progress. The day would be won. The Dordovans would be forced back across the river. But Chandyr didn't care much about that. Enough Dordovans had seen Rusau die. A neutral on a Xeteskian pike. He would tell the truth. The Dordovans would not. He could only guess at the consequences.

It was night and the battle was done. The Dordovans had been crushed and driven back across the river but not before herding many of the refugees to their deaths, caught helpless between the opposing forces.

Three miles west, the surviving refugees had regrouped, huddling together for comfort around fires. Another blow had been struck against their fragile spirits and here they were again with no food, shelter or hope.

The flight from the fighting had been terrifying. Once the Dordovan guard had deserted them to sh.o.r.e up their fractured line, Avesh had got Ellin away from the panic and those who ran to the Dord, or those who decided to throw themselves on the mercy of the Xeteskians. Many had followed him, and as the day wore on yet more joined the group.

They sat in almost complete silence. A misty rain was falling from a clouded night sky and in his arms Ellin was unmoving. He rocked her gently, cursing those who had reduced her from bright light to traumatised sh.e.l.l. He had to strike back but had no idea how to contact those he wanted, but then three of them rode into the camp just as he was fighting back sleep.

Alarm rippled through the exhausted refugees but the riders sought to quell it quickly, a.s.suring them they were not from any college. Avesh sat up, fatigue fading, and as a hush fell, one of the riders spoke.

'I and my men had sight of the events of today and I want to pa.s.s on my sympathy at your plight and my fury at those who treat you no better than animals. But the reason I am here is to offer you hope and a way to make a difference and to end the persecution of ordinary Balaians.

'My name is Edman, and I am an emissary of the Black Wings.'

He waited while renewed nervousness coursed through the cold, wet and hungry refugees.

'Please,' he said, raising his hands. 'I know our reputation but I want to a.s.sure you we mean you no harm. We seek to restore what has been lost but we need people to make it happen. I can offer you food and shelter. It is a long walk from here but we will help you every step of the way. We will keep you from contact with our common enemy and we will help your sick and your wounded.

'Any of you who want to return to rebuild the lives the colleges took from you go with our blessing. But any who come with us will make sure that those lives can be lived in security in the years that follow.

'Who is with me?'

There were questions, there was suspicion, there was fear. But Avesh was not alone in feeling a surge of purpose. By him, Ellin reached up a hand to stroke his face.

'You must go,' she said. 'Avenge our son for me. And when you are done, find me at the broken timbers of our farm and we will start again.'

Avesh gazed down at her, tears standing in his eyes, and knew he had never loved her more than he did right now.

'I won't let you down.'

'Just come back to me.'

'You know I will,' he said and, kissing her gently on the lips, he heaved himself from the ground and went to hear what Edman wanted of him.

Heryst rode into Dordover with the night full and cool. He and his delegation were tired from the trail but Vuldaroq wasn't in the mood to give them much time for food and rest. Still feeling dusty, Heryst met the fat red-faced Dordovan Arch Mage in a small warm reception chamber hung with dour portraits and with a roaring fire in a large grate.

The shake of hands was perfunctory but the wine Vuldaroq gave him was very welcome. The two men sat in large leather chairs either side of the blaze.

'So, come to your senses finally, my Lord Heryst?'

'I have always been in full possession of my senses, Vuldaroq. I had hoped that Xetesk and yourselves might rediscover yours.'

'Exactly what was it you were hoping for?'

'A way to peace through diplomacy, what else?'

Vuldaroq smiled indulgently. 'You know I respect your skill as a politician and mage but in this you are being as naive as a child. Surely you cannot close your eyes to what is happening now. Peace is only possible when both sides desire it.'

'I have never been naive, Vuldaroq,' said Heryst. 'I simply choose to seek a less b.l.o.o.d.y path.'

'You think we wanted war against them?'

'I think Dordover was angry enough at its defeat on Herendeneth to view conflict as preferable to negotiation. You as much as they have brought us to this juncture.'

Vuldaroq was indignant. 'Preposterous, Heryst. We sought justice for Balaia and the sharing of the treasures discovered on that island.'

Heryst blinked slowly, having to make a deliberate effort to keep a scornful smile from his lips.

'Who exactly do you think you are talking to here? We formed an alliance, if you recall, with the express intention of stopping the Nightchild realising potential beyond her control. Her death was always a possibility we had to consider. But you had darker motives. Nothing would have survived there had The Raven not intervened, would it? Wasn't that why you involved the witch hunters?'

'They were the only people capable of finding those we sought.'

'd.a.m.n you they were not!' Heryst spilled his wine on his hand. 'And you gave Erienne to them. One of your own.'

'A betrayer,' said Vuldaroq smoothly. 'A little like your own General Darrick, wouldn't you say?'

'Darrick's actions were regrettable, I admit, but he was not prepared to stand shoulder to shoulder with those who would see us all dead, as apparently you would. He will account for his actions, have no fear. He, at least, is a man of honour.'

Vuldaroq sipped his wine. 'And I am not? I and my college, alone, stand between Xetesk and their dominion of Balaia. Remember why we allied. We cannot let the power rest with one college alone; it would return us to the wilderness.'

'I agree utterly. It is the method to use that has been where our differences lie,' said Heryst, knowing t.i.t for tat accusations would get them nowhere fast.

'And do you also agree that the war, whoever you believe is to blame, now threatens you as well as us?'

'And Julatsa, yes,' said Heryst. 'That is why I am here. I am appalled by the actions of Xetesk around Arlen and at their own gates. At least you have respected the rules of engagement and the rights of refugees.'

Vuldaroq inclined his head. 'From you that is compliment indeed.'

'I want to make it abundantly clear, however, that I am not proposing a formal alliance,' said Heryst. 'But we have a joint obligation to sh.o.r.e up the defences of Julatsa. I also believe we must put in place a blockade of Xeteskian lands to prevent movement of troops and materials.'

'There also we are in accord,' said Vuldaroq. 'But how is this not an alliance?'

'Because Lystern is not at war with Xetesk and that is the way I want to keep it. My soldiers will not be under any command of yours. I am suggesting a sharing of responsibilities in order to pressure Xetesk to the negotiating table. I will be telling Dystran the same.'

'Of course, I respect your wishes,' said Vuldaroq, and Heryst could see the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

'Do not betray this. I will be seeking a.s.surances you will not use this goodwill to advance the conflict.'

Vuldaroq held up his hands. 'Heryst, please.'

'Good. I suggest we break and let our respective teams discuss my proposals. We can reconvene later to iron out points of difference.'

An urgent knocking on the door was followed by two of Heryst's mages running in.

'Excuse the interruption, my Lords,' said one, a young mage named Darrow. 'I have grave news.'

He looked over to Vuldaroq. Heryst waved him on.

'He will hear it anyway, best first-hand from you.'

'Kayvel has contacted us,' said Darrow. 'As you know, Rusau travelled with a Xeteskian force riding to engage the Dordovans at the Dord crossing. It seems he was caught in the middle of the conflict. I'm sorry, my Lord, but he was killed.'

Heryst closed his eyes. He had feared this. He took a deep breath before speaking.

'How did it happen?'

'The story we have heard from Dordovans in the field was that he was killed by a Xeteskian pikeman.'

Heryst dashed his gla.s.s into the fireplace. Liquid hissed and spat. He fought to regain control but his mind churned and his pulse ran high.

'He was a diplomat. A neutral,' he said, hardly able to get the words out.

'Yes, my Lord.'

'He was also my friend.' Heryst put his head in his hands for a moment. 'Are you sure the reports are true?'

'That he's dead?' asked Darrow.

'No,' snapped Heryst. 'That he died the way it is told.'

'As sure as we can be. He was caught in the battle. In the centre of the line. He was in the way and Xetesk removed him.' Darrow shrugged.

'But could it have been an accident? Battle is confused,' said Heryst. 'You understand I have to be sure. Could it have been a Dordovan pike?'

Darrow shook his head. 'No, my Lord. The picture is reasonably clear. A Xeteskian pike was driven through his body from the back. The battle continued. Xetesk pushed Dordover back across the river and their forces are now guarding the whole stretch and apparently sending more patrols out to secure their entire border with Dordover. '

Heryst looked across at Vuldaroq, whose expression of sorrow appeared genuine enough, but the Lysternan knew that somewhere in that mind of his he was smiling at the news.

'And what have we heard from Xetesk?' he asked.

'Denials, as you would expect,' said Darrow. 'Kayvel has spoken to the rest of our delegation there and they aren't under any duress or arrest but the story they are relaying just doesn't have quite the ring of truth about it.'

'And what is it?' Heryst straightened.

'That the Xeteskian commander was trying to get Rusau out of the battle and didn't make it before his horse threw him and he landed on a pike.'

'Pure fantasy,' muttered Vuldaroq. 'I am sorry to hear of the loss of your friend, Heryst, but it casts new light on what we have just been discussing, does it not?'

Heryst held up a hand to silence the Dordovan Arch Mage. 'Don't you dare try to put pressure on me, Vuldaroq. At the moment I am not interested in what you think. Perhaps you would grant me the favour of leaving me for a moment.'

Vuldaroq nodded and rose. Heryst watched him go.

'This changes nothing as far as Dordover is concerned,' he said to Darrow. 'You will continue negotiation as if this desperate event hadn't happened. Do you understand?'

'Yes, my Lord, but-'

'But nothing, Darrow,' said Heryst, keeping his voice quiet. 'I do not trust Dordover any more than I trust Xetesk and I suggest you take my lead. I want to leave to return to Lystern tomorrow, so the pressure is on you. There, we will find the truth of this. All I will say is that it must hasten our deployment of forces.

'd.a.m.n you, Darrick, where are you when I need you most?'

Chapter 28.

'Ow! Dammit!' shouted Darrick, jerking his leg at the sudden flare of pain. 'That hurt.'

'I'm really sorry, Darrick, but they won't be persuaded out with softly spoken words,' said Ilkar. 'Now keep still, you broke my concentration.'

'Feels like you broke my leg.'

'Well, I can leave them in there if you'd prefer,' said Ilkar, meeting the Lysternan's gaze in the firelight.

Darrick shook his head. 'What on earth possessed me to join you lot?'

'The glory and excitement,' said The Unknown.

'That'll be it.'

The Raven had stopped for the night before walking to the temple the following morning. They'd endured two days in the dense rainforest which had tested the nerve and patience of them all. Stultifying heat had been punctuated by torrential rain; and the close attentions of seemingly every bug that hopped, crawled, flew or burrowed had been utterly relentless. They'd been tracked by a pack of small wild dogs, had to move their fire pit when an army of ants had chosen their site for a route to somewhere, and had interrupted an enormous constrictor devouring a young adult monkey.

It was hard to gauge which had been the most unsettling event so Darrick didn't bother, concentrating instead on Ilkar and his ministrations. He knew what the mage was doing though he could see nothing: targeted needles of mana lancing into his legs to kill the burrowing insects and the eggs they laid. Every tiny wound was cauterised instantly and, with dozens from his ankles to his thighs, Darrick felt like he'd been showered with hot embers.