Denser switched his attention ahead of him. They were riding well ahead of the remnants of the Lysternan forces whom he could still see scattering east and north. The way before them was clear, across open fields and away towards the first cover on their run to Julatsa.

Before long, they had left the slaughter outside Xetesk behind them. The Xeteskian charge had slowed a little, as it had to if it was ever to become organised. Having won such a devastating victory and having dispersed their enemies beyond any immediate chance of renewed cohesion, they could afford to take time.

Half a mile beyond the battlefields, he saw what he'd been waiting for. Quick, disciplined and organised, the elves were moving north. Riders in the midst of the advance meant Darrick, and Thraun. He spotted him, carrying Erienne in front of him, holding her head against his chest.

They had scouts forward, ClawBound pairs ran the flanks and at the rear, TaiGethen marauded. They moved with purpose and represented Balaia's best hope of holding the Xeteskians at bay. It was difficult to guess how many there were; their movement was fluid, they dropped in and out of sight against changing backgrounds and into trees and tall grass.

Whether the estimated requirement of two hundred mages were with them he doubted. His best guess was that he was looking at a total of less than four hundred warriors and mages. But that hardly mattered now. All that had to be done was to preserve the mages they had. Every one that fell on the run north was a blow against the survival of Julatsa.

But like Hirad and The Unknown, who rode ahead of him, Denser would not let Ilkar's dreams die.

Vuldaroq strode through the cloister corridor of Dordover, seeking out Heryst, whom he had been told was in the Chamber of Reflection, a room of polished granite slabs, fountains, small waterfalls and wicker furniture. The perfect place to relax. Or to contemplate disaster.

Heryst was sitting with his head in his hands. It had been a shattering blow, leaving Xetesk firmly in command of the battle. Unless fortune favoured the allies, the war was now Xetesk's to lose.

Reports from outside the city were still sketchy but it was clear that both the eastern and northern siege fronts had collapsed completely. South and west, the allied lines had fallen back, fearful of a similar fate, leaving Xetesk unmolested. Xeteskian forces had also withdrawn inside the walls of the city, comfortable now that not enough force could be mustered to mount a serious threat, at least for the time being. They were right, too.

Heryst looked up when Vuldaroq's sandalled feet slapped across the marble floor. The Dordovan lowered himself onto a two-seater bench, the wickerwork protesting at his weight.

'Anything new?' he asked, keeping his voice respectful and quiet. Though they had both lost men, Lystern had been the harder hit overall and Heryst, he knew, would take every death personally.

'We had committed so much. Why did we have no clue what they were preparing?'

'A message was relayed but none of us could have guessed the magnitude of what was cast at us. The Raven knew something. The word is, they tried to help.'

‘Iheard!' snapped Heryst. 'Sorry. I heard. And when the spell was forming they tried to clear the batdefield and even saved two men. Damn but it's hard to hunt them.'

'We cannot stop now.'

'I know.' Heryst was silent for a while. 'I have no real idea how many men and mages I have left in the field,' he said eventually. 'I've been in three Communions since dawn. Two of them with terrified individuals barely able to keep their concentration and talking about scattered bands of my people being hunted down by familiars, mage defender trios and come nightfall, no doubt, assassins too.

'Neither could put a figure on the casualties but, conservatively, let's say the reinforced line this morning lost eighty per cent. Say it's the same north. It leaves us with a force of less than three hundred facing nearly a thousand Xeteskians just north of the city. And that's assuming we include the walking wounded and can regroup to form a sensible defence. We're finished, aren't we?'

Vuldaroq surprised himself by reaching out a hand and laying it gently on Heryst's arm.

'Not until the last of our soldiers lies dead. Not until Dystran himself stands before me in my own Heart. Don't lose hope. Not now.'

Heryst nodded. ‘Iknow, I'm sorry. Bad moment.'

'Forget about it. Instead, tell me what you're planning for those you still have camped south of Xetesk.'

'You know, I haven't planned at all. We've been trying to pull the pieces together.'

'Join with me, then,' said Vuldaroq. 'Our belief is that Xetesk has only enough men inside the city to defend it, not strike out at any other targets. Move your men with mine north to Julatsa because the battle for Balaia will be fought there. If you have enough strength left in Lystern you must do it.'

‘Iwill direct them to your command,' said Heryst.

'Good. That's a wise decision. And now, I'll leave you. I think you have people to contact, fears to quell as best you can.' He stood to go. 'One thing. Your man, Izack. He saved a lot of Dordovans this morning. I won't forget that.'

Heryst smiled. 'Thank you.'

Vuldaroq nodded and left, the door to opportunity pushed a little wider open.

She understood her name but she could not recall it beyond her Loved speaking it to her. But she knew why she was here and who was friend and who was prey. She could sense that which instinct told her she should not. And she understood that which mere men did not. She was ClawBound and no one could break a bond forged since birth. No one.

She padded swiftly through the unfamiliar lands. Every scent was foreign, every pawfall unlike any other she had experienced before the journey. A brief shudder ran down her flanks. The ocean had been broad and the land had moved upon it. Small and stinking of men, though the Keepers were in charge. And her Loved had always been by her side.

The memory was distant and it passed quickly through her mind. Now, she protected. The Keepers were running. Threat was everywhere. It could not be allowed the freedom to strike.

So she moved beyond them, her Loved nearby, directing and calming her, stroking her mind. She sampled the scents that assailed her, distant and close. The plants, the flowers and the trees, healthy and growing. The small prey animals, quivering and scared when she passed them, ignoring them for now.

Upwind, there was threat. It was not far. She let free with her emotions, her Loved understanding the change within her, the tightening of her focus ahead, the increase in her pace. He matched her.

A small animal appeared in the path. Fur black like hers, the size of a cub but sleeker. She would have termed it a relative but the scent told her it was not of her family. It radiated danger. Her Loved closed in to guard her while she investigated.

The animal stopped in front of her, waited for her to approach, didn't flinch as she pushed her muzzle in very close. In every mannerism, it was a distant cousin, small and fragile. But it radiated a strength and a strangeness that she had never encountered before. It scared her. She withdrew a pace and growled low in her throat.

The animal mewled, darted in and pushed a paw into her face. It should have been playful but the claws bit deep. She bared her teeth and cuffed the animal hard. It tumbled over and over into damp leaf mulch beneath a tree. But as it fell, it became another. Bigger, with limbs like a monkey. The fur vanished and a head full of fangs and spitting anger looked at her, a long leathery tail whipping behind it.

She yowled in shock, leaping away unsure, her Loved coming to her side. The creature rushed at her, making a cluttering sound. Confused and fearful though she was, instinct took over. She crouched low, waited her moment, and sprang.