‘Soldier!’ he roared as the man reached him, still gabbling frantically, ‘take a breath and tell me what’s happened.’

In that shout came the full force of Vesna’s divine presence and it rocked the man like a punch to the chest. He gasped and stopped dead, wide-eyed for a moment, before returning to his senses. ‘Lord Isak, my lord — he’s gone!’

Vesna grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘Gone? What do you mean?’

The soldier swallowed hurriedly, feeling the Mortal-Aspect’s impatience like the heat of a fire. He wore the black and white of the Ghosts; he was old enough to be a veteran, but right now he was as flustered and frightened as a raw recruit. ‘He’s been taken — Tiniq’s taken him, with that bloody vampire’s help!’

‘ Tiniq the ranger? He’s the bloody traitor?’ Vesna demanded, shaking the soldier, who went white with terror. Vesna realised he’d dented the man’s steel pauldron and he quickly released the Ghost. ‘How? That’s why those wyverns were flying towards the enemy?’

The man bobbed his head, too frightened to speak. ‘He took the Skull from Lord Isak and used some glass feather to disappear, so Carel said.’

Vesna broke into a run, heading towards Isak’s tent. Even before he reached it he could sense the panic and confusion emanating from the throng around it, but they stilled as he arrived as though calmed by his presence.

‘Carel! What happened?’

Carel lurched forward, his face pale. ‘The bastard took him,’ he croaked. ‘He cut away the Skull and let the bloody sword cripple him with pain.’

‘He’s alive?’

‘Screaming,’ he moaned, ‘howling like the whole damn Dark Place was tearing his skin apart.’ He held up a shard of glass. Small fractures ran down one side of it, marring the clear view of a raven’s feather encased inside. ‘He used this to disappear.’

Vesna took the glass shard from him and inspected it. ‘Tiniq must have stolen this from the witch before we left Moorview,’ he muttered. ‘He’s been planning it all this time?’

‘But why?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. He always was a strange one — I just thought he was as mad as any other Ascetite. Could he really have been an agent of Azaer’s all this time?’

As he spoke a second figure sprinted up, and the Ghosts were turning with weapons half raised before they realised who it was.

‘Is it true?’ Doranei demanded, gasping for breath. ‘He’s been taken?’

Vesna offered the glass shard. ‘He used this to reach the vampire — Vorizh’s also betrayed us.’

‘Karkarn’s horn,’ Doranei breathed, ‘we’ve lost Termin Mystt, the Skull of Ruling, two wyverns and a vampire all in one go?’

‘Eolis too,’ Vesna reminded him. ‘Vorizh took it when Isak claimed Termin Mystt.’

‘And none of you had a fucking clue?’ Doranei shouted, wheeling round at the Farlan soldiers, who bristled. ‘A traitor in your midst this whole fucking time?’

More than one would have stepped forward if Vesna hadn’t raised a hand to stop the argument from developing. ‘There’s no time for that,’ he said. ‘We’ve lost our greatest weapon — we can’t delay any longer.’

Doranei grabbed the shard from his hand. ‘You’re right: Azaer’s got all the power it needs now. I’ll see if Endine can do anything with this. You get the army moving.’

‘What chance do we stand now?’ Carel yelled at the King’s Man. ‘The two greatest weapons in creation are in our enemy’s hands!’

Slowly and deliberately Doranei put a hand to Carel’s chest and pushed him back. ‘Yes, Azaer’s got all the cards, but that changes the game.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning,’ Doranei replied calmly, fully composed again now, ‘the shadow doesn’t give a shit about this battle. It’s got bigger plans than beating us on the field, and for those plans it needs the swords and Skulls in use, not out here tearing us apart.’

‘Why wouldn’t it wait?’

‘You saw the toll Termin Mystt took on Isak; these weapons are not to be used lightly — and do you think it trusts its allies so completely it’d risk being vulnerable in their presence? Azaer’s goal is to become a God, not a conqueror! Why wait before doing that? Why wait for any possible surprises we might pull to win the battle? All those soldiers have to do is defend the hilltop until Azaer’s a God, and then we’re all fucked anyway. But to make that happen the shadow needs to be within the barrow, deep underground and away from anyone its mages could use the Skulls on!’

‘How long?’

‘How in the name of the fucking Dark Place should I know?’ Doranei shouted. ‘Do I look like a bloody mage? Vesna, you’ve got more chance of knowing — what does your God say?’

The Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn blinked, but if his God had answers, he was not sharing them. ‘I don’t know, but how long can a ritual take when you’ve that much power?’

He looked around and raised his voice so that the ground shook with divine authority. ‘Arm yourselves! Leave everything else — we march right now!’ Lowering his voice he looked hard at Doranei. ‘What happens even if we punch through? Isak was going to kill Azaer — how do we win without that option?’

‘I don’t know, but rituals can go awry — maybe Legana or Endine can find a way to disrupt it. You’re leading the strike now; there’s no one else. Who’s commanding the Ghosts?’

‘Colonel Cerse!’ Vesna bellowed, and the commander of the Ghosts ran up, still pulling on his heavy armour. In his wake came Suzerain Torl, dressed in the lighter armour of the Dark Monks.

‘Here, Vesna,’ Cerse replied. ‘Your orders?’

‘The battle order remains the same, but you’re leading the Ghosts,’ Vesna said. ‘Make General Lahk proud of his men. Torl, you have command of the Farlan forces.’

He started back towards his tent to put on the rest of his own armour, but hesitated when he realised the soldiers were all still staring at him in awed silence.

‘Move yourselves!’ he roared, jerking them into action. ‘May Karkarn’s blessing shield you all. The Farlan ride to war!’

‘At last we meet,’ came a distant voice through the darkness, ‘my most useful of playthings.’

Isak raised his head and muzzily made out a small figure standing a few feet in front of him. A small, slender boy, looking barely fourteen summers, but with the presence of a king. He was dressed simply, with a wrapped sword bound on his back, and he dominated a view containing Harlequins, mages and Demi-Gods. Even the one blind eye and scar on his face served only to enhance his unearthly air.

Isak recognised Ilumene standing close to Ruhen’s side, while on the boy’s other side he saw a black figure with teardrops tattooed on his face: the black Harlequin, Venn. Ilumene grinned malevolently at Isak, but the best he could manage in response was to look straight through the man, as though he wasn’t worth noticing.

‘But as you see,’ Ruhen continued with a small, secret smile, spreading his hands to indicate himself, ‘I am growing up. The time has come to put aside my childish things and you, beloved toy, have almost served your purpose.’

‘Fuck off,’ Isak croaked.

Ruhen’s smile widened. ‘Ah, you do not disappoint. Always the white-eye, even after all I’ve put you through.’

Isak took stock of himself. He was on his side, his right hand pulled tight against his chest and a chain of silver looped diagonally around his torso. The sky was oppressive, sullen grey clouds with a taste of rain on the wind. He could see a perimeter of cut stones, both standing and fallen, and fractured paving slabs underneath him. It appeared that they were standing on the remains of an obliterated temple. His senses told him he was on the bare hill their scouts had spoken of; Aryn Bwr had described it as a barrow. The air hummed with power and the stones beneath him trembled at the artefacts gathered in one place.

He pushed himself up with his left hand until he was kneeling, then hunched forward and retched until the waves of pain and dizziness passed. His hands were trembling and his head swam; even the simplest of movements was exhausting. It was a huge effort just to turn his head enough to see Tiniq’s hooded head behind him, a grim

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