'King Abeleyn of Hebrion is dead, as is King Mark of Astarac, and Duke Frobishir of Gabrion. The great naval armament which they commanded is destroyed. The fleet of the westerners has made landfall in Hebrion, and that king­dom has surrendered to the foe.'

A second of stunned silence, and then everyone began talking at once, a tumult of horrified exclamations, questions lost in the clamour. Corfe held up a hand and the noise tailed away. The Torunnan King's face was grey as marble.

'Let him continue.'

Golophin, unbidden, had filled a glass from the decanter on the table, and drained it at a draught. He smelled of wood-smoke, sweat, and another evocative stink much like the charged air of a thunderstorm. A vein throbbed like a blue worm in the hollow of one temple.

'Himerian troops are on the march. They are riding out from Fulk, down both sides of the Hebros towards Imerdon and the northern Hebrionese coast. An army has crossed from Candelaria into East Astarac and has defeated the Astarans in the foothills. Garmidalan is about to stand siege, if it is not besieged already. And if my information is correct, another Himerian army is making for the passes of the Malvennors as we speak, to take Cartigella from the rear.'

'How do you know all this?' General Comillan asked, his thick moustache bristling like a besom.

'I have a - a reliable source in the Himerian camp.'

'Won't they at least put up some resistance?' one Torunnan asked incredulously.

'Not in Hebrion. It has been agreed that there will be no pillage, no sacking of Abrusio, in exchange for a bloodless occupation. In Astarac the military has been caught off-guard, as have we all. They are in full retreat westwards. The garrison of Cartigella is capable enough, though, and will probably stand siege under Cristian, the Crown Prince.' Golophin filled his glass again, peered into it as though it were hemlock, and tossed it off.

'But Cartigella's fall is only a matter of time.'

'Gentlemen,' Corfe said softly, 'we are at war. The general mobilisation is under way. I signed the Conscription Decree not half an hour ago. As of now, this kingdom is under martial law, and every able-bodied man in the country is being called to the colours. No exceptions. Comillan, Formio, in the morn­ing you will begin processing the first batch of conscripts. I want them knocked into shape as quickly as possible. Com­illan, the Bodyguard will act as the kernel of the new training cadre—'

'Sir, I protest.'

'Your protest is noted. Colonel Heyd, I am drawing up a command for you which you will take north to reinforce Aras within two days. Colonel Melf.'

'Sir?'

'You also are to have an independent command. Once the Merduk contingents arrive from Aurungabar you will set off, and take it south, to the port of Rone. Your area of operations will be the southernmost foothills of the Cimbrics, where the mountains come down to the Levangore itself. The enemy may well try to sneak a column round our southern flank that way. You will be liaising with Admiral Berza.'

'Sir!' Melf, a tall, lean man who looked like a peasant farmer, beamed.

'What of the main body of the army, sir?' Formio asked.

'It will remain here in Torunn for the time being, under my command. That means the Cathedrallers, your Orphans For­mio, and the Bodyguard, of course. Ensign Roche, my apolo­gies for keeping you waiting. What news from Aras?'

The young officer seemed to gulp for a second, then jerkily proffered a dispatch case. 'Sir—'

'Read it out, if you please. All present needs must hear it.'

Ensign Roche flipped off the lid of the leather tube and unrolled the paper within. He cleared his throat. 'It is dated six days ago, sir.

' "Corfe, I write in haste and without ceremony. The bearer of this dispatch will give you a fuller picture of conditions up here than my penmanship ever can. He has experienced them first-hand. But you must know this - we have been swept out of the plains entirely by a large-scale advance of the enemy. Not one patrol can be sent out without encountering huge numbers of the foe, and in the past week we have lost heavily in men and horses. I have been tempted to essay a large-scale sally myself, but prefer to wait for your approval before attempting so major an operation. The Finnmarkans and Tarberans are still not yet up, thanks to our bridge-burning, but the Himerians have numbers enough without them it seems. I would hazard that they have already stripped Charibon of much of its garrison. They mean to take Gaderion, that much is plain.

"There is more. We are encountering something new, something which the bearer will be able to inform you of more fully. These Hounds, as they are called - they are beasts of some kind, or men that can become beasts at will. The rumours have been flying about the continent for years, as we all know, but I have had patrols, demi-tercios of good men, slaughtered like rabbits by these things, always in the night, half-glimpsed. Our intelligence-gathering is non­existent now. I believe that soon we will be under siege.

"Man for man, we are better soldiers than the foe, but this new thing we do not know how to fight, and there are no Dweomer-folk about to advise us. I need reinforcements, but also I need a way to fight back. I need to know how to kill these things.

"Officer Commanding Gaderion, Nade Aras."'

There was a concussive silence, as though the wind had been taken out of all their mouths. Corfe spoke first. 'Ensign Roche, you have encountered these things General Aras speaks of?' ‘I have, sir.'

Corfe flapped a hand impatiently. 'Tell us.'

Briefly, tonelessly, Roche recounted the fate which had befallen his patrol two sennights before. The attack of the fearsome, half-seen beasts, the death of his sergeant.

'We found the bodies in the wood after it had gone, sir.

They had been torn into pieces, twelve men. We had only heard that one shout. We saddled what horses remained, doubled up in the saddles and made our way back into Gaderion that same night.'

'You left the bodies unburied?' Comillan snapped.

Roche ducked his head. I am afraid so, sir. The men were panicked, and I—'

'It's all right, Ensign,' Corfe said. He turned to the old mage who stood at his side listening intently. 'Golophin, can you enlighten us?'

The wizard sighed heavily and stared into his empty glass. 'Aruan and his cohorts have been experimenting for years, perhaps centuries. They have taken normal men and made them into shifters. They have taken shifters and twisted them into new forms. They have bred unnatural beasts for the sole purpose of waging war, and these are now being unleashed upon the world. They destroyed the allied fleet, and now they will take part in the assault upon Torunna.'

'I ask you Aras's question: how do we kill these things?'

'It's quite simple. Iron or silver. One nick from a point or a blade made of either and the Dweomer which flows through the veins of these creatures has its current disrupted, and they die instantly.'

Corfe seemed slightly incredulous. 'That's it?'

'That's it, sire.'

'Then they are not so fearsome after all. You hearten me, Golophin.'

'The swords and pike-points of the army are made of tempered steel,' Formio said wryly. 'They will not bite, it seems. Nor will the lead of our bullets.' He looked quizzically at the old wizard.

'Correct, General.'

'We must get the smithies busy, then,' Corfe broke in. 'Iron blades and pike-points. And I'm thinking maybe some kind of iron barbs which can be fitted on to armour. We'll make of every man a deadly pincushion, so that if these things so much as lay a paw on him, they'll send themselves off to hell.'

The mood in the Bladehall lightened somewhat, and there were even some chuckles. The news from the west was bad, yes, but Hebrion and Astarac were not Torunna, and Abeleyn was no Corfe. The very sea itself might be subjugated to the will of Aruan and his cohorts, but there was no force on earth that would stop the Torunnan army once it had begun to march.