Victory was assured, the message ended. The Spirits smiled on them and the enemy gods would look away. Tessaya had made certain of that.

But Tessaya wasn’t facing what Senedai faced. And as the sun lightened the sky to reveal the masked force standing stock still on the ground in front of the ruins just as they had as night fell, the Wesman Lord quailed inside and prayed for an answer to present itself that could save him from humiliation.

Behind him a dog barked and a harsh voice silenced it. At least there was part of the answer. He dropped the message in the fire and summoned his Captains to issue battle orders.

In the light of late afternoon, General Darrick sat around a hastily erected map table with Blackthorne, Gresse and a tired Communion mage. The Wesmen had stopped and dug themselves in, scouts reporting that Tessaya and the southern force remnants had managed to connect.

‘What is all this about?’ asked Gresse. He’d just heard the Communion report and both he and Blackthorne faced Darrick blankly.

‘Look, there’s things been going on you know nothing about. I’m sorry not to have told you but there didn’t seem any point and we all had axes to grind against the Wesmen anyway.’

‘What exactly?’ asked Gresse carefully.

‘This is going to sound preposterous but it’s all true, I swear it,’ said the General. He looked round to make sure they weren’t overheard. ‘There’s a . . . a hole in the sky over Parve. It’s growing and when its shadow covers the city at noon, dragons will invade. Don’t ask me how or why, but they will. The Raven and Styliann have ridden to find a way to close the hole. He went back to Xetesk, and they went to Julatsa. I was left praying they would make it and now it seems obvious they have.

‘But now the Wesmen are threatening even themselves, ridiculous though that sounds, and we clearly have to stop them.’

‘But why have the Wesmen chased them? I mean we’re talking about ten plus thousand running after what they think is six people.’

‘Yes, but they think that The Raven are going to bring back dragons. I mean, they’ve got it hopelessly wrong but that’s what they think. And it makes them very difficult to deal with.

‘More than that,’ continued Darrick. ‘It explains why Tessaya went on the move. Look.’ He indicated the map. ‘Tessaya’s plan was to march on Korina when his southern army sacked Gyernath and his northern took Julatsa, thereby removing supply all the way, north to south, from the strongest Colleges, Xetesk and Dordover. Lystern he can leave until later. He has thousands of men in reserve to defend both cities and the pass so he is relaxed. He also knows, or thinks he knows, that co-ordinated defence of the East is non-existent so even though Dawnthief has removed the Wytch Lords and his own magic, he still believes he can take Balaia. So he wants Korina next to cut off principal west-east supply and break Balaian morale.

‘But not everything went right. For a start, Gyernath survived its onslaught and still stands. To add insult to injury, you two and your motley band of farmers’ boys—’ he imbued the term with complete reverence and respect ‘—have taken the rest of the southern force apart, something he has only become aware of very recently. Next, The Raven reappeared in the East as did Styliann and I, and they desert a siege situation and presumably through torture in Julatsa he has answers to why, but the wrong ones.

‘He knows he has to move fast so he begins to destroy as he moves, knowing we still can’t take the pass and having to hamper our resupply at every stage he can, hence Understone. He is on his way directly to Korina but he doesn’t want to lead us straight past Septern Manse and leave any chance that we can stop his other army - also on its way to Korina, by the way - from catching and killing The Raven. I’d do the same if I held the superstitions they do. On their own, The Raven have already destroyed apparently indestructible forces and he’ll be sure they can do it again. Best not to take chances. Best to see them dead.’

‘So he’ll fight us just to stop us reaching Senedai?’ Gresse’s expression was sceptical.

‘For one, but also because it’s better to fight us there than outside Korina where he thinks, again mistakenly, that we would get significant help. Possibly even enough to defeat him.’ Darrick’s heart was racing and he could see the pieces slot themselves into place in the minds of the Barons.

‘But all that is immaterial if Senedai kills The Raven,’ said Blackthorne. ‘Because, if you’re right about these dragons . . .’

‘. . . the only chance any of us, Wesmen or Balaians, have is if Senedai is stopped,’ finished Darrick.

‘And Tessaya won’t believe us,’ said Gresse. ‘Gods falling, I’m not even sure I believe us.’

‘Just say all this is right, how long can the Protectors hold out? Long enough to see The Raven complete their task? Long enough for us to skirt Tessaya and hit Senedai ourselves?’ asked Blackthorne.

Darrick shook his head. ‘As to The Raven, I don’t know. All I do know is that we won’t get around Tessaya, not an army this big. He already has us scouted.’

‘So we’re going to fight him?’ Gresse looked less than upset at the idea.

‘If we fight and win, it’ll take two days minimum. No.’ He smiled at what he was about to say. ‘We’ve only got the one choice and, far-fetched as it is, we have to have his help.’

‘So?’ asked Blackthorne, though Darrick could see he knew the answer and was already fighting with thoughts of placing his need for vengeance to one side, much as Darrick himself was doing.

‘So, we’re going to march right up to him, as quickly as we can, look as powerful as possible and then we’re going to persuade him to send a message to Senedai.’

Hirad had known it would be beautiful, the feelings in his mind when Sha-Kaan had spoken of it told him that, but he hadn’t imagined the half of it. They had climbed several hundred feet up a steep-sided rocky slope with the deep orange sun beating down from the same blue sky that had lain above them ever since their arrival in the dragons’ dimension.

The remainder of their journey had been a nervy rush across the fire-ravaged plain. The surviving travellers had reformed an hour from where the Veret dragon’s attack had taken place and while The Raven were unhurt, barring a few scratches, only Cil and two Protector brothers remained of the six that had come through the rip, and Jatha had lost seven of his people.

Styliann had remained quiet about what he had seen as his Protectors died but the flinch he had given when a Kaan dragon overflew them on the way back to its homelands was all the information Hirad had really needed. The Xetesk Master had been pale and clearly shaken and, for the first time, Hirad had actually felt a little sympathy for him.

The battle in the sky had been won, just, though Hirad had felt Sha-Kaan’s sorrow as he had spoken of singling out one Brood, the Veret, for attack until the Kaan had driven them off, breaking their spirits and a fledgling alliance between enemy Broods. But, in a notable change to his attitude, he had detailed a quartet of Kaan to shadow their journey despite the extra attention the action would inevitably bring.

And so they had travelled, humbled by their experience and all too aware of the awesome destructive power of even a single dragon. No more was that evidenced than by the plain they left after a further day’s travel to move into the rocky foothills of the mountains they had seen from the dead forest. Looking back, they saw the scars and open wounds that would probably live on forever.

No longer did the plain shimmer in its pale blue and red frond-topped light as far as the eye could see. Now, beneath a huge shifting pall of smoke and ash, a yellow and orange glow told of the fire still burning, consuming the stunning vegetation, voracious and insatiable in its appetite. Where it had burned itself out, the land was blackened and smouldering, laid waste to its roots and beyond in the heat of the consumption. The vegetation was resilient and would sprout again but that thought made the sight no less terrible.