'I'm sure he had his reasons,' Leith retorted, and walked away, ignoring the gasps behind him.

Perhaps he did owe his brother an apology, but short of an organised search Hal simply could not be found. It couldn't be helped: there were more immediate issues to be dealt with, such as a dire food shortage. The wagons from Adolina and Sna Vaztha grew much less frequent, for even the enticement of Instruian gold could not overcome the snowdrifts and frozen roads that made travelling a treacherous business. The few animals imprudent enough to show themselves on the Nagorj were bagged by the soldiers. How were the Bhrudwan army kept in food and supplies 1 It must be much further to the nearest source of food for them.

As he walked towards the striped tent that until yesterday was Jethart's domain, Leith struggled to keep the cloying despair from clouding his features.

Can't have the soldiers thinking we're giving up! He waved to them cheerily, and they applauded him as he walked by: each smiling face another nail in his chest. If he was hungry, having been supplied with the best of the food, how much must his soldiers be suffering? He scowled at the Jugom Ark, flickering quietly in his right hand: for all your healing power, you can't make food magically appear or take hunger pangs away.

Leith entered the tent and found he was the last to arrive, so took a seat at the back of the room. What will we do without jethart? he wondered emptily. Who else will we lose during this cursed war? And who will replace Jethart? Who can bring even half of his wisdom and good counsel to the table?

The latter question was answered almost immediately. Apparently he was even later than he thought: there had already been a discussion, and the new commander stood to address them.

Leith squinted through the misty air in puzzlement, then disbelief. The woman standing in front of them all was his mother Indrett.

'Well then, we have much to consider,' she said, voice clipped and competent in the way Leith had heard her conduct herself both in Loulea and in the markets of Instruere. 'We have lost a great man, and it is our task to ensure that we do not lose too many more. The Bhrudwans have shown they are preparing to re-ignite the conflict. But before we rush away to our companies and prepare for battle, we must think carefully. What does the Destroyer hope to accomplish?'

Judging by the amount of muttering as she spoke, not all of the generals and strategists were comfortable with a woman leading them, however tactically gifted she had shown herself, irrespective of whose mother she was. For a moment they assumed that she asked a rhetorical question; but when she did not continue, merely waiting, holding them with her fierce eyes, the answers began coming.

'The total destruction of our army,' offered Axehaft the Warden.

'No! They will try to capture the Jugom Ark once more. We must protect the Bearer of the Arrow at all costs!' cried the Captain of the Instruian Guard.

Modahl's deep voice cut across the speculation of others. 'The Destroyer wants one thing above all others: to stand acclaimed in Instruere as the ruler of Faltha.'

Indrett nodded. 'That is what I think also,' she said, smiling slightly. 'He will bypass our army completely if it means he gains Instruere. If it were summer, I believe he would already have struck out along the Sna Vazthan road, looking to travel across the southern province of Am'ainik and through the lands of Pereval and Haurn, then down the Branca through Asgowan and Deuverre. But his way is undoubtedly blocked by snow and ice, so he has no choice of route. He will go through us, but at as little cost as possible, for he will need many men to control Faltha. Each of the Sixteen Kingdoms will oppose him, and he will have to reduce them one by onea"'

'Though there are some kings who will open their cities to him,' Mahnum offered. Indrett nodded to him in acknowledgment.

'True. But he does not want a long war, of that I am certain. He will try something as soon as the weather clears, something of trickery or magic, or perhaps both.'

Most of those in the tent nodded, and the conversation began to revolve around their movements. Should they abandon the Nagorj at a time of their own choosing, or should they hold on until they were driven from it like a dog from a tabletop? What would happen once they descended into habitable lands? How many innocents would suffer as the war moved west? Was there any way they could use magic themselves to strike at the Destroyer?

Leith, who was finding the discussion uncannily reflective of the thinking that kept him awake through the bitter nights, said nothing but listened intently. These people had so little on which to base their decisions, and knew that wrong choices would result in thousands of deaths, but they sought a decision anyway, prepared to accept the consequences. How can they sleep at night? Don't they hear the fading cries in the snow?

The girl lay cold and unmoving on the pallet while steel-shod boots paced back and forth across the beautifully patterned rug. Life flickered in the ruined figure, a faint ember that teetered on the edge of going out. The man wearing the boots had for two thousand years practised the art of keeping broken bodies alive that otherwise could not hold on to life: only by the most extreme exercise of his art had the girl not died. She must have suffered indescribably from the measures he was forced to use. I will not give her up, he told himself. I must have that flicker alive to study. I must learn how she came by the Fire.

He could see right into the girl's deepest places. Her dreams were filled with colour, but not the fresh, clean colour of spring. Rather, she endured the pale ghosts of winter, the spiral towards darkness she had always hated, the cruel greys and drab browns that beckoned her onwards through the pain to sleep and oblivion. Yet at the heart of her dreams burned a small flame. From time to time it talked to her, telling her not to go to sleep but to stay awake, that she still had something precious to share.

At those times the flame burned with a blue tinge, and the girl loved the voice, but knew it lied to her even as it seared her with a pain so far beyond pain that it made mere agony seem like surcease. Sometimes it whispered to her in sounds too fundamental for words, sounds that reminded her of the cooing a mother made to her child. As the voice whispered the flame burned yellow: the girl feared the voice but knew it sustained her, enabling her somehow to bear the pain that ought to have driven her down the spiral and into the darkness.

The day came when the girl could breathe freely without choking on her own blood, and the man with the boots finally relaxed. He emerged from his tent for the first time in a month, a haggard figure with the bearing of an old man, and finally gave orders to his perplexed commanders who had thought him insane if not dead. The battle for the girl's life was over; now the battle for Faltha could recommence.

The Falthan scouts should have delivered warning of the Bhrudwan offensive, but to a man they were slain by expert trackers who had followed them virtually from the outskirts of the Falthan encampment. Thus the first the assembled captains knew of the attack was the sound of distant screaming intruding on their meeting.

Instantly Indrett leaped to her feet, abandoning the chart they had been poring over. 'Out!' she cried. 'Out! Each to his command! We will not survive long at such a disadvantage as we must now be facing. Take your charges down the escarpment as soon as you can disengage.

We will reassemble on the river flats near Adolina!'

In that first hour the camp was nearly overrun. Bhrudwan warriors made it as far as the striped tent, which had been abandoned only minutes earlier: they hacked at the incomprehensible charts until their officers told them to desist, but little remained to betray Falthan thinking. Some of the Falthan wagons were captured, but the food remaining in them had long gone rotten.

The fighting was quite unlike that which had taken place a month earlier. So completely had the Bhrudwans taken the Falthans by surprise that small knots of attackers and defenders fought all over the field: the Falthans had not been able to form a defensive line capable of holding the Bhrudwans back. As much as they wanted to remain and fight, as unhappy as they were to finally give up the Nagorj which so many of their fellows had given their lives to defend, the Falthan commanders realised that their only hope was to retreat and regroup. How had the woman seen it so early, so clearly? Those Firanese were witchy, none more than the family of the Arrow-bearer. Perhaps she too had powers beyond those of ordinary mortals.

Perhaps the Jugom Ark told her what to do. It was against everything they believed to have a woman leading the army, but if she could somehow deliver them, her sex could be forgiven her.

So long had the Deruvians and the Children of the Mist fought side by side, there was now little thought of them as separate forces. Their leaders were seldom seen apart, and this morning they fought back to back, together the match of anyone on the field. Te Tuahangata again wore no cloak, even in this heartless cold, and his torso rippled as he swung and ducked, avoiding a spear thrust with ease, then stepping forward and clubbing his foolish adversary. Prince Wiusago muttered curses under his breath: the men coming against them were Red-bibs, part of the well-trained unit that had fought them on that very first day an impossibly long time ago. The man he fought relied on brute strength rather than finesse, but had technique enough to avoid Wiusago's best sallies: the match would not remain a stalemate for long. The curses grew louder. He would soon have to ask Tua's help yet again.

A groan told him the fate of the fight behind him. A moment later the incautious Bhrudwan opposite him jerked up his head as a giant green club whistled through the air towards him, a movement that exposed his breast to Wiusago's sword thrust.

'Once again, friend,' the prince said wryly, flicking his hair out of his eyes., 'Much more of this and I'll not be able to repay the debt.'

'I own you now, skinny man,' Tua replied easily. 'You coast-landers should not be allowed out of doors without an escort.'

'We must abandon this place, and quickly. Look: more of the Bhrudwans come to the battle.

We are not enough to keep them at bay.'

'We are twice as many as they! How can we not resist them? We should stay and fight!' The words were belligerent, but spoken for the sake of form.

'Very well. I'll come back tomorrow and rescue you, as I have had to do so many times already. One more time will make no odds.' He laughed, removing any sting his words might have had.

'So we run like cowards and bring the Bhrudwans nearer to our lands and our homes. That is the good sense of the First Men.' His voice flat, Tuahangata signalled his men to begin the retreat.

'It does not matter how many times we retreat, old friend, as long as at the end we advance,'

Wiusago commented; then he, too, gave his soldiers the signal to abandon the field. 'And as long as we are alive to see the Destroyer brought down.'

By nightfall the bulk of the Falthan army had reassembled in northern Piskasia, though men and wagons still streamed down the winding path from the plateau high above. A count was ordered, sending officials scurrying around the encampment; by dawn the next morning the best estimate was that there were less than fifty thousand Falthans camped on the river flats beside Adolina.

'So what do we do?' the generals and tacticians asked each other. 'Where can we hold them?'

They called in villagers from the town, who advised them that there were many paths through the foothills of the Wodranian Mountains to their west which would allow the Bhrudwans access past the Falthan army. The debate that followed was hurried, with so little time before the inevitable assault from their enemy, and conclusions were rushed and often went unheard.

A short distance away, soldiers assembled a hasty barricade at the bottom of the escarpment, knowing it was a futile gesture, but knowing also there was little else they could do. Swords were cleaned, damaged spear-shafts replaced with the last of the surplus from the wagons, and many warriors had to fossick down by the river, picking over driftwood to find a shaft long and straight enough that might do to protect their lives for another day.

'We're in a bad way,' Indrett told her commanders. 'This place is indefensible, and the valley behind us is broad. 1 know of no place between here and Redana'a that might serve for us to make our stand.'

'There is one place.' A thin, patient voice cut through the murmuring that followed the woman's pronouncement.

'Unless they are prepared to wait until summer's heat, anyone who wishes to pass through to the rich plains of Straux and Deuverre, and ultimately to Instruere, must pass through Vulture's Craw. I have seen it! There the final conflict will be decided: there the Jugom Ark will be matched against the wiles of the Destroyer!'

Leith stood up, knocking his chair over. Sir Amasian! He'd assumed the man had remained behind in Fealty. He had so much to ask him!

'You have seen it? What nonsense is this?' Many of the commanders had little patience left, worn down by a month of uncertainty and fear, and were conscious that precious moments sped past without any decision.

'Not nonsense,' came a clipped voice, and Sir Chalcis stepped forward. 'We are the Knights of Fealty, the heirs of Conal Greatheart, he who drove the Destroyer from Faltha a thousand years ago. To us are regularly vouchsafed visions of what is to come. Who better to carry the promises of the Most High?'

More argument followed this pronouncement. Phemanderac quieted them with outspread arms. 'Do not dismiss such things lightly. I am Phemanderac of Dhauria. I make my home in the lost city of Dona Mihst. Enough of you know me to attest to my reliability. I have been a member of the Company and a companion of the Arrow-bearer since before we arrived at Instruere, and I was one of those who found the Jugom Ark. Legend and fact have become inextricably mixed in these days. Do you who doubt Sir Amasian's visions - which I beheld on the ceiling of Fealty's Great Hall - also wish to doubt the miracle of the Jugom Ark burning under your very noses? Sir Amasian foresaw the attack by the Lords of Fear on the Arrow-bearer: I was there, I saw the vision come true, though I did not remember it until afterwards. I think perhaps we should listen to what Amasian has to say.'

Indrett went over to the old man, and raised him from his seat. 'What do you have to tell us, Sir Amasian? What have you seen?'

'1 have seen far too much to speak of it at such a time as this,' he said simply. 'Nevertheless, I have been shown visions regarding the Jugom Ark. Twelve souls were called by the Most High to recover the mighty Arrow from its resting place and restore it to true Falthans. I saw the possible paths of these twelve faithful ones, the roads that would bring them to the place of final confrontation, and I drew these paths on the ceiling of Conal's Great Hall. One by one these souls abandoned their quest, most not making it past the borders of their own lands, and their paths have faded in my mind. But one path is still clear. It is the path of Leith Mahnumsen, who with his companions solved the riddle, found the Jugom Ark and now lead us in defence of our lands and people. I stood in the darkness and watched him study the prophecy, so I know that he knows what I say is true. Is that not so, Arrow-bearer?'

All eyes swung across the open space to where Leith sat, the Jugom Ark warm in his hand. 'It is true,' he responded, standing as he spoke. 'But, Sir Amasian, if you knew that the final confrontation, as you put it, will take place at Vulture's Craw, why did you not say so? Why did you let us pass by on our way to confront the Destroyer at the Gap? How many lives might have been saved if we had remained in the correct place?'

As he waited for a reply, Leith harboured a shameful secret hope: perhaps if it is his fault, this weight will lift from my shoulders . . .

'Truly, I did not know until we passed through. I have never been there before, you see.' He did sound apologetic. 'And should I have taken you aside at that moment, assuming that I could have found you in the snow, and suggested that we somehow miss out the scenes to come? Is there a shorter path to victory than the one shown to me by the Most High?'

Leith nodded sadly. He had suspected that it would not have been as easy as that. 'Are you therefore saying that we should make for Vulture's Craw now?'

'It makes good sense from a tactical point of view,' Indrett answered. 'We can choose our place of defence, and the valley there is narrower even than the Gap. If we can hold our lines with fewer soldiers, then fewer will die, and our warriors will have time to rest and recover from their wounds.'

'What do we need to do in order toa"' began the captain of Deuverre's forces, but he was interrupted by a series of horn-blasts sounding from several different directions.

'Come, now!' Leith cried, filled with anger and a desperate weariness. 'Let us fight with whatever strength remains, so we can win ourselves time to retreat!' And with the decision made, the commanders of the Falthan army ran for their horses.

Later that day Leith found himself riding southwards, his horse stumbling with tiredness, the Jugom Ark barely flickering. It had been a day filled with horrible surprises. The Bhrudwans had changed their tactics, so that instead of meeting the Falthans on a broad front, they sent their most potent warriors against one small section of the Falthan lines, driving through at an angle, then turning further to their right and driving through the ranks of unengaged soldiers and out to the west. A full tenth of Leith's army was cut off before anyone realised what was happening, and though his forces made a number of attempts to rescue their comrades, the captured salient had eventually been engulfed by the Bhrudwans.

Of their fate, no one could say. Another five thousand, his mind noted, adding them to the total.

Then there were the fire-tipped arrows. Legions of archers had come in close to the Falthan lines, exactly where the front lines were closest to the supply wagons and the command tents, and fired arrow after arrow, continuing long after they were surrounded. The archers made no effort to defend themselves: in fact, they were armed with nothing other than the longbows they used to loose havoc on their opponents. Leith wanted them held captive, but did not arrive in time to prevent the archers being hacked to pieces by a vengeful army, frustrated at having to watch their friends and countrymen methodically obliterated just out of their reach.

The fires were difficult to put out, as the river was nearly a league away. According to the Chief Clerk of Instruere, nearly half the wagons were destroyed.

Yet there seemed as many Bhrudwans as ever. His strategists assured him that it was not so; that they suffered grievous losses, that they were only two-thirds of what they had been. His mind processed the numbers without his volition: perhaps thirty-five thousand Bhrudwans still remained - if they had not received reinforcements, his constant worry. Until his army was some distance further down the valley, he could not send spies to report to him about Bhrudwan supply lines and possible reinforcements.

Certainly the Falthans had received no extra soldiers, and might not receive any for some time. The Saristrians would come, he had been assured, but they would either have to cross the formidable Deep Desert or sail to Instruere. Even if their loyal king had raised an army as soon as he'd received news of the Jugom Ark, it would be many months before they were seen on the field of battle. Nemohaim would send no soldiers; neither would Firanes. Anyway, both places were still too far away to make a difference, as was Plonya, from whom some help might be expected. What of the losian?

Were the Wodrani likely to descend in their thousands from the hills to the west and fall upon the Bhrudwan army? Those who knew of them said they were very few, and not much interested in the affairs of the First Men, secure in their mountain fastnesses. Who else?

Possibly the Pei-ra .. .

Leith pulled his mount up, sickened. After slowly climbing for a few minutes, the road had been about to descend a steep slope. For a moment the horse fought him, but then halted on the crest of the ridge. O Most High! The Pei-ran navigator had promised him a thousand warriors in exchange for free access to Astraea, and Leith had committed himself to sealing the bargain over a meal. The meal had never taken place. How could he have been guilty of such an oversight? He could see it now: the navigator waiting patiently, denied access to Instruere until finally being told that Leith had departed - or perhaps even standing sadly in the crowd that cheered their departure. The thousand warriors would remain on their islands, and the Pei-rans would never return to Astraea.

At that moment the Knights of Fealty began to file past, now numbering less than eighty riders on starving mounts and perhaps fifty pages. At a sign from Leith they halted.

'Is Sir Amasian among you?' Leith called to them. It would be just his luck if the seer had been slain that very day.

'I am,' came the reply, and a horse and rider emerged from the group.

'I wish to have words with you, Seer of Fealty,' Leith said politely. Sir Chalcis nodded, and shook Amasian's gauntleted hand. Within moments the Knights of Fealty had ridden off into the half-light.

'I will rejoin them later,' the knight said quietly. He looked beyond exhaustion.

'How fares the battle?' inquired Leith gently, his head still filled with his blunder.

'The battle is a terrifying place,' the old man replied, his faceplate open, his breathing laboured. 'I am shocked and upset by every death, whether 'tis friend or foe. 1 cannot see how this is the wish of the Most High. Better to let the Bhrudwans have what they want. Yet I know that this is not so, and that many valiant deeds are done daily on the battlefield. Ah, Arrow-bearer, 1 was not made for this! I should have remained in my tower, seeking wisdom and insight at the hand of the Most High!'

'Yet you are here, and you might be of assistance to me.' Leith's words trailed off, and he turned to the north, where the knight's attention had suddenly been taken. From their vantage point on the ridgetop they could see back across the wide valley towards Adolina, perhaps half a league in the distance. The setting sun sent her last rays to illuminate the town... Leith and Amasian the Seer gasped together. Both knew what they were seeing.

Smoke rose from the village. Down the slope behind the town swarmed the Bhrudwan army.

Flames burst forth from the base of the smoky columns. Dark figures moved along the lanes, climbed over hedges, many carrying torches. The flames reached into the darkening sky. Now the two men could hear screams.

'I didn't think they would bother with the village,' Leith whispered. 'We warned them, begged them to leave.'

'Perhaps they have,' the old man replied. 'Perhaps we hear the Bhrudwans dying in traps left for them.' But his voice was hesitant, filled with doubt.

'This is - this is on the ceiling. Next to the Skull Rock picture. This is one of your visions.'

'It is,' said Sir Amasian, entranced. 'The first one I have seen in reality.'

'Oh, Sir Amasian, why did my path have to include this?' Leith cried. 'Why do I have to preside over so much suffering? Why is it all being charged to my account?'

The old knight did not answer, but his presence comforted Leith. They stood there together as the sun set behind them and watched as the fires raged, then died down. A light snow began to fall, a forlorn attempt to cover the desecration. The vanguard of the Bhrudwan army approached them, a grey, shapeless mass spread across the valley, a swarm of parasitic insects feeding on the corpse of Faltha. The two men watched until the last possible moment, then urged their horses down the road and back to the Falthan army some distance ahead.

'Stay with me,' Leith asked the old man. 'Remain by my side. Perhaps the key to our victory might lie in your second sight.'

'Certainly, my lord,' Sir Amasian replied. 'Certainly.' And he smiled at the boy: so young, so brave, and with so little faith. Such a fragile vessel for the will of the Most High.

The Falthans adopted a strategy of deceit and subterfuge to disguise their purposeful retreat.

They put forth a show of force, rotating their army to expose fresh troops every few days, alternately holding the Bhrudwans up and then drawing them onwards. Twice they drew numbers of their enemy forward, away from their main force; and these they utterly destroyed in the manner learned from the Bhrudwans themselves - but their grim harvest totalled in the hundreds, not in the thousands. They looked to manoeuvre the brown army away from populated areas, sometimes abandoning the highway to divert their pursuers around towns and cities. In these cases they spent time digging up the road and disguising it with hedges transplanted whole from nearby farms. The citizens of Saumon, safe on the far side of the river, stood on the banks and called encouragement to the Falthans as they trudged past, then hid in their homes as soon as the Bhrudwans came within bowshot, having heard the tales of what had happened to pretty Adolina. Further south the leaders of Turtu Donija threw down their bridge before the Falthans arrived. Indrett and her fellow strategists cursed their cowardice, having planned to cross the river before casting the bridge into the swift-flowing waters, but Leith understood. We of Loulea surely would have done the same. And it meant that another number was not added to the hideous total.

So the weeks passed, and the Falthans led the Bhrudwan army south through Piskasia, then west past Kaskyne. Some thought was given to crossing the bridge and seeking the much narrower (and therefore more defensible) southern path through Vulture's Craw, but the capital city of Redana'a had perhaps twenty thousand people, and Leith was not the only one who objected to their sacrifice.

Some time during the interminable journey back through Faltha, the army - or at least that part of the army whose homes were in northern lands - celebrated Midwinter's Day. One year ago, Leith remembered, this all began. The Midwinter Play had featured himself and Stella, and then later that night his parents had been snatched away from Loulea. His mother and father had been rescued, but Stella was lost. Leith celebrated with his Loulea friends and family but, like them, his heart was heavy and little was said.

Late one night a figure crept closer to the tent of the Arrow-bearer. Servants waited outside the entrance to the tent, ready to do the will of their master, but he wanted nothing to do with them. It should be easy enough.

No moonlight, no starlight, only the flickering of firelight from the various watch-fires set around the camp. The flickering helped the man escape detection, as it was much easier to conceal movement in moving light. He would move slowly, taking as long as was necessary, for what he had to do tonight was crucial to the success of his army.

Perhaps half an hour later he stood beside the tent he had been so patiently moving towards.

Through the thin tent-skin he could see that the boy was awake, reading some document by the light of the legendary Jugom Ark as if it was a mere torch. Good. He did not want to have to wake the boy up. He eased the tent wall up, then slid underneath.

The boy heard something and swung around on his pallet, hand grasping the Arrow. The man put his finger to his lips and the boy nodded, then indicated that his unexpected visitor should find himself a seat. The man sat on the edge of the boy's pallet.

'Son, I've been sent to talk to you,' said Kurr, the old farmer. 'I've come late at night and unannounced to spare you any embarrassment.'

'Embarrassment?' Leith responded, puzzled. 'How so? Why would I be embarrassed to have you visit me?' Then, as the import of the words hit home: 'What do you mean, "sent"?'

'From the look of it, you seem not to want to associate with your friends or your family,' said the old man testily. He held up his arms, cutting off Leith's retort. 'Just listen, boy. See it our way. You haven't spoken with your brother since the night you questioned him - I don't criticise you for questioning him; 1 have some of the same concerns. You avoid your father and mother, choosing to speak to your mother only as much as is necessary even though she is now in a position where your close cooperation is needed. Don't you know that they are sick with worry over you? Trouble with you, boy, is you've grown up too quick. Think you're above dealing with the people you once depended on. We know you have an intolerable burden to bear. We can't hold the Arrow for you, so we want to do the next best thing, and hold you up against the forces that seek to destroy you. But we can't do that, boy, if you won't let us near.'

Leith shook his head at the unfairness of it all, and he could not keep the tension from saturating his voice as he explained things to the old farmer. Avoiding his parents? He'd looked for them time and again, only to be drawn back into the responsibilities of command.

Avoiding his friends? Phemanderac continued to avoid him, and a look of shame in his eyes whenever Leith cornered him drew their conversations to a swift end. He would have loved nothing more than to confide in them, but he thought they expected him to bear up without their help. How could they understand the burdens he carried? Did they carry a tally around in their heads, one which grew every day? Did they carry in their hand the Hope of Faltha, a weapon that was no weapon? Did they carry on their faces a false smile, placed there to keep the Falthans in good heart?

The old man listened to the boy's litany of complaints, then stood. 'It comes down to this. You let go the people that matter most in the quest to protect them, and you wind up losing even when you win. Numbers are deceitful things, boy.