But then Amanvah fell to her knees. 'No,' she whispered. 'No, no, no. Please, husband, do not ...'

She did not finish the sentence. Sikvah dropped to her knees behind her sister-wife, gentling her shoulders. Amanvah's face was blank and she said nothing, but Leesha could imagine what was going through her mind.

Leesha pulled at her skirts as she got to her knees in front of Amanvah. She reached out, taking Amanvah's soft hands in her own and squeezing, trying to lend strength as Sikvah did.

'Amanvah,' she said, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice, 'please tell me what's happened. Is Rojer ...?'

'Not yet,' Amanvah said. 'He is still playing, but he is no longer driving back the alagai. He is calling them to him, that his companions may live.'

There was a patter, and a spot appeared on the perfect white silk on her lap. Sikvah slipped a tiny bottle from somewhere in her black robes and reached out, catching Amanvah's tears as they fell. 'His honour knows no bounds, and Everam will seat him in His great hall on the sixth pillar of Heaven,' she said. Amanvah nodded, weeping all the harder.

This went on for several minutes, but then Amanvah's eyes lit up and she straightened. 'He fights again! All Nie's forces at his heel, and he stands to face them!'

Sikvah swiftly stoppered the now full bottle and produced another, ready to catch more tears if they fell. 'Can even he-'

'Of course he can!' Amanvah snapped, her strength returned. 'He is Rojer, son of Jessum, disciple of Arrick of the sweetest song and son-in-law to Shar'Dama Ka.' She paused, clenching a fist. 'But the alagai will be the least of his worries when I see him again.'

'Honest word,' Leesha agreed.

'The Par'chin is with him now,' Amanvah said a moment later. 'He is ...' She furrowed her brow. 'The alagai, they ...'

Just then there was a shout, and all eyes turned to see Arlen suddenly standing in the centre of the graveyard. Even Leesha, who understood something of Arlen's powers, gaped. He had been miles away in Newhaven just a moment before.

But there could be no doubt he was here now as his voice boomed like thunder. 'Mount and stand ready! We ride into the night in minutes!'

He turned, striding purposefully towards the count's tent, and the crowd parted around him, some whispering in awe, others shouting.

'He just appeared like a demon!' one woman cried.

Inquisitor Hayes blocked his path as Arlen reached the tent. 'How is this possible?' he demanded. 'The Canon states we must not take the corelings' methods as our ...'

Arlen reached out, brushing the Inquisitor aside like a child, never slowing. 'Ent got time to argue scripture now, Tender.'

Hayes looked outraged, and Child Franq moved to block Arlen's path, but Thamos banged a gauntleted fist on the table. 'Holy Men out! See that our fighters have the Creator's blessing!' The Inquisitor and his entourage looked at him, but the count met their eyes with a hard look, and they moved quickly to comply.

'What's happened?' Thamos asked as Arlen came over to where he stood by the map. Arlen did not immediately answer, considering the map a moment before taking a brush and dipping it in the bowl of ink, expertly drawing thick wards over areas that had once been virgin woodland.

'The mind demons have built greatwards, here, here, and here,' Arlen said, pointing to New Rizon, Newhaven, and Lakdale. 'Already they are activating.' He lightened pressure on the brush to draw the thinner lines of connection. When he was done, the great wardnet of Hollow County was a circle within the triangle of the mind demons' wards. 'The net will only get stronger as the rock demons continue to dig, cutting off the Hollow and draining power from our wardnet.'

The wards were elegant, and Leesha knew at a glance that they were powerful. There was a slight similarity in their shape to wards she had seen when Inevera trapped her in Jardir's palace.

'They're human wards,' she guessed. 'We will no more be able to set foot across their lines than they can ours.'

Thamos shook his head. 'That only creates an impasse. There must be more to their plan.'

Arlen nodded. 'They are stockpiling every boulder and tree trunk as they clear the wards. Soon the rock demons will begin throwing, and it won't be long before they destroy enough to break the circuit and short out our net.'

'Circuit?' Thamos asked.

'The link that joins our greatwards,' Leesha supplied. 'It needs to form a closed shape to operate at full power.'

Arlen nodded. 'They do that, we'll have demons in the streets of the outer boroughs, and the rock demons will be able to move in close enough to heave boulders anywhere in Hollow County.'

'Creator,' Thamos said. 'But if these demon wards repel us the way ours do them, how can we destroy them?'

'We can't,' Arlen said. 'Not tonight, or even during the daylight hours if we make it till tomorrow.'

'We could set fire to the woods.' Thamos' face was grim. He knew the cost, but he would do it if necessary.

This is why we keep the secrets of fire from men, she heard Bruna say. They would curse the world and think they're saving it.

Arlen shook his head. 'Wouldn't work. The wards are more than just the shape of cleared-out trees, Highness. We're dealing with trenches dug by rock demons. Twenty feet wide and ten feet deep. Takes a lot to fill in a trench like that, even with thousands of strong backs and an endless supply of flamework, neither of which we'll have by morning.'

'We don't need to destroy the wards,' Amanvah said, coming over. 'Only mar them.'

Leesha looked at her, then nodded. 'The fangs.'

'Ay,' Arlen said.

'What are the fangs?' Thamos demanded. Leesha could hear the desperation in his voice. He wanted to take command as he would in any other instance, but he was out of his depth.

Leesha took a scrap of paper and the brush Arlen had used, quickly drawing a ward. She pointed to two small, curved teardrop shapes next to the main symbol. 'These are the fangs. Almost every ward has them hidden somewhere in its design. They are the place where the ward Draws magic without them, it will quickly burn out.'

She looked at Arlen. 'You take your clothes with you.'

'Eh?' Arlen asked. Thamos turned to regard Leesha curiously as well.

'When you turn to mist and move as the corelings do,' Leesha said. 'You take your clothes with you. Can you take more?'

'Ay,' Arlen said, 'but nothing heavy, and nothing alive. Breaking things down is easy enough. Putting them back together properly is harder.'

'Can you carry a crate of thundersticks?' Leesha asked.

Arlen considered. 'For a short hop, perhaps, if I have time to study their pattern.' Arlen smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. 'Won't be easy, but easier than hauling one up a frozen mountain.'

Leesha cocked her head. 'What's that?'

Arlen waved the thought away. 'Long story.'

Leesha made a mental note to ask about it later and pressed on. 'Can you materialize out beyond the greatward?'

Arlen shrugged. 'Can, but it's easy to get lost. Simple to skate along the greatward because I know its every twist and turn. Out beyond, I'll need to go deeper into the Ala, and then find a path of magic leading back up to the surface closer to where I want to be. Might need to hop once or thrice to triangulate, but I know the woods well.'

'How is this possible?' Amanvah asked. 'Even my father does not have such powers.'

Arlen ignored her. 'If I knock out the fangs of the centre ward, their net will fail, but expect I'll only have a moment to do it before they sense me. Need a distraction.'

Thamos straightened at that. 'Then you shall have one.' He pointed to the greatward the minds were building near New Rizon. The second oldest of the Hollow's boroughs, it was also the most populous. 'New Rizon has the most open ground, where our horses and archers can inflict maximum damage. If we attack there ...'

'You ent thinkin' straight,' Renna said as Arlen headed for the tent, well away from the troops and horses, where the crates of Leesha's thundersticks were stacked. The foot soldiers had already begun a march to the east while the horses were readied.

Behind them, Rojer's wives berated his recklessness, shifting back and forth between their heavily accented Thesan and rapid-fire Krasian. Arlen smiled. It was probably for the best Rojer could not understand most of what they were saying. The Jongleur wasn't known for his temper, but he could be as stubborn and cutting as any when his back was up.

'Straight or not, it's the only plan we've got, Ren,' Arlen said. 'Hollow will be destroyed, we don't get this done.' He drew a deep breath. 'Maybe even if we do. But I ent the type to lie down and wait for the end.'

Renna shook her head. 'Me either. Not any more, at least. But do you have to go alone?'

Arlen nodded. 'Need to be quick. All goes to plan, I should be gone and back in an instant. Time you hear the blast, I should be back on the greatward, covering your retreat.'

'Should,' Renna said, not sounding convinced. Her aura was petulant, but resolved.

'Don't like you fighting without me any better,' Arlen said. 'But you seen what the count is like in a fight. Reckless. Hollow needs him right now. Trustin' you to bring him back alive.'

Renna nodded. 'Will. Swear by the sun.'

Arlen saw magic respond to her natural strength, flowing into her and brightening her aura. She had never looked so beautiful. He took her in his arms, kissing her deeply. 'Love you, Renna Bales.'

Renna smiled, and even her beauty from a moment ago was eclipsed. 'Love you, Arlen Bales.'

She turned and went to join the others. A moment later, a horn sounded and they galloped off. Arlen concentrated, pulling magic through one of the crates, Knowing its contents down to the tiniest particle. The materials were surprisingly simple, and he was confident that when the time came he would be able to reassemble them.

He turned back, taking in the graveyard, now almost empty. Leesha had moved her Gatherers to form a temporary hospit in near the fighting, and Rojer's wives had gone with him to add their power to the attack.

They're all going to die, you don't time this right, his father's voice said in his head. Should have kept 'em safe behind the wards.

Arlen gritted his teeth. Would that voice ever go away? Even now, having seen his da stand and spear a demon before his very eyes, the voice of Jeph Bales continued to counsel cowardice as wisdom in his head.

But the voice was right that the timing would be key. Arlen could sense the troops readying for their charge and knew he must wait long enough for them to draw the mind demons' attention, but not enough for them to get fully involved. From their greatward net, they could launch a devastating counteroffensive if they felt their loss of drones was becoming too costly.

Time to be seen, he thought, and dropped into the greatward, instantly materializing behind the mustered Cutters and Wooden Soldiers. He leapt into the air, continuing upward unaffected by gravity until he reached the desired height and stopped there, taking in Hollower and demon both. He cast bright light into the night sky, startling the demons and signalling the attack.

Thamos had insisted on leading the charge. His aura had said it had something to do with Rojer's wives, but the cause was irrelevant. No words would sway the count, so Arlen wasted none trying.

To one side of the count galloped Captain Gamon, and to the other, Gared Cutter. Gared had never been the most proficient rider, but he'd apparently taken training among the Krasians, and managed to keep his seat even as Rockslide trampled corelings, the magic in his hooves making him wild with power. Gared, too, was drinking in the magic, laying about him with his huge axe. With a single swing, he took the head from a field demon that would have taken the count's horse out from under him.

Slightly off to the side, Renna paced them easily on Promise. The horse would still not be saddled, but Renna had got the mare to consent to a few warded harnesses to let her keep her seat and add some protection to the wards painted on the horse's dappled coat.

The cavalry skewered or trampled dozens of field demons, killing few but leaving all dazed and unprepared for the foot soldiers who swept in behind, led by Dug and Merrem Butcher. The pair earned their name as they cut corelings apart with the same practised ease they sectioned a pig.

But then the lightning demons came down, strafing the battlefield with uniform precision, and Arlen knew the nearby mind demon had taken control.

An instant later he was back in the graveyard, performing a second Knowing on the crate to hold in his mind as he carried it down into the greatward, then deeper still, into the crust of the Ala.

All around, paths opened to his senses. Many led to the surface, while others tempted to take him farther down towards the Core, where all the magic in the world flowed from.

He ignored them, focusing on those heading upward. None were truly straight, but some reached the surface quickly, while others drifted for miles before making their way to the open air. He tasted these, sensing where they led. It was easy in the between-state sending tendrils of himself out to explore while he stayed in one place but there were thousands of intersecting paths, a maze one could get lost in for a lifetime and more.

Despite the confusion, the demon wards were easy to find after a few moments of concentration. The keyward of their net drew power like a whirlpool, starting at the fangs. He let the current pull him along, and was surprised at its power. For a moment he feared being sucked into it fully, his entire being devoured by the demon warding's power. He gathered his will and pulled back just in time, finding the closest outlet to the surface and solidifying. Once on the surface he again felt the mind's presence for an instant, but then his protective wards re-formed and his mind was cut off. He hoped it was too brief for them to notice him in turn. He pulled his personal magic as deep within himself as possible, and drew wards of confusion in the air around him to mask his presence.

He approached the greatward, feeling its power of repulsion. His part-demon nature allowed him to get closer than a normal human might, but he was still kept a good twenty yards from its border. Within, he could see the rock and wood demons working tirelessly to deepen and strengthen the lines. Other corelings patrolled the area.

He placed the crate as close to the fangs as he could, then put a foot on it and shoved hard enough to carry it much of the remaining distance without detonating. He might have thrown it, but he was getting stronger all the time, and didn't trust his aim. If he overshot, or the crate fell into a trench and didn't detonate on impact, it would all be for nothing.

The crate skidded to a stop perhaps ten feet from the edge. Close enough. Arlen raised a hand to draw a heat ward.

But then there was a roar, and he turned to see dozens of field demons charging his way. Arlen frowned. Despite his efforts to mask his presence, he obviously could not evade detection fully this close to the demons' centre of power. The local mind might not have been able to pinpoint him, but it sensed enough to make it worth sending a reap to sweep the area. Whether they saw him or not, there was nowhere to hide on the open ground.

As the first talons reached him, Arlen dematerialized, meaning to let them pass, re-form, and set off the thundersticks before it was too late.

But in the instant he entered the between-state, the local mind was on him.

He felt the pressure of the demon's will, but Arlen had faced this struggle for dominance before. He gathered his will and struck back, only to run into an impenetrable wall.

The greatward.

Too late, Arlen realized his mistake. The ward was more than just a physical defence and a source of power. It also protected the coreling prince's mind from unwanted intrusion much as Arlen's own mind wards did for him.

He threw himself at the barrier again and again, suddenly understanding for the first time in his life precisely how One Arm and the other demons that had tried to claw through Arlen's Messenger circles over the years must have felt. Angry. Frustrated. Desperate.

Vulnerable.

In that moment of first despair, the demon struck back at him, reaching beyond the wards with no real exposure to himself, like Wonda Cutter standing at the edge of the greatward picking off corelings with her bow.

The coreling prince batted his defences aside effortlessly, seizing control of Arlen's mind and teaching him how arrogant he had been to think himself a fair match for one of these creatures.

Renna was right. He'd been lucky in the last contest, and even so the demon would have defeated him if not for her. For all he'd learned, he was still a novice at a form of combat the mind demons trained to all their lives.

Arlen pulled all his strength and will together, trying desperately to solidify. If he could do that, his mind wards would activate, and he would only have a few hundred corelings between him and the safety of the Hollow's wardnet.

Only.

But the mind demon kept his atoms dispersed. Arlen found a path to the Core and tried to flee out of range, but that, too, was in vain. The demon held him fast, forcibly draining the excess magic from him. Even as mist, Arlen discovered he could know pain, and if he'd had voice, he would have screamed as the power was sucked out of him.

He thought the demon meant to kill him then and there, but it relented just before the last of his energy was depleted, leaving him weak as if he had lost too much blood, helpless as he heard the demon in his mind.

A fool, to leave his centre of power and confront us, the coreling thought to the others of its kind.

He must have thought his drones would distract us in their futile assault, another replied.

Fool, the third agreed. Arlen could sense their mental presence drawing closer, adding their own power to the already overwhelming press of his original assailant.

Must get free. He struggled again. Others don't stand a chance without me.

He fears for his drones! The thought brought amusement from the three minds. How did one such as this defeat one of our brethren?

We shall soon Know. The thought was punctuated by a hunger greater than anything Arlen had ever felt. Knowledge and experience were power to these creatures, and all of them were eager for the feast as they laid open his mind, reading through his thoughts the way Arlen might thumb through a history book.

They walked through his memories, forcing him to relive every powerful experience and sipping his emotions in his moments of deepest pain, weakness and degradation, savouring them like fine Angierian brandy.