Shortly afterwards, they reached the top of a rise and the Wesmen were below them. Covering an area probably a quarter of a mile on a side, the camp sprawled across pasture and cropland. Dozens of fires burned into the damp early afternoon sky, banners and standards hung limp and tents hugged the ground in carefully spaced order. Forsaking their trademark towers and stockades with time against them, the Wesmen instead had mounted a heavy border presence of warriors. A sneak attack on this camp would not work and Tessaya wanted them to know it.

Passing into the camp, Darrick’s ease evaporated. Thousands of eyes turned to stare, the hum of work and talk fell away and a savage hostility pervaded the atmosphere. From all parts of the camp, Wesmen warriors ran to get a closer look at the enemy in their midst and, here and there, Shamen in cloak and paint issued forwards, gazing malevolently at the parley group, their hands and mouths moving, cursing.

But none broke the honour guard which shouldered its way through the increasing press, heading for a tent like all the others save the heavy security surrounding it and the dozen standards driven into the ground either side of its entrance, forming a tight walkway.

A short walk from the tent, the honour guard brought the parade to a halt, indicating that the Balaians dismount.

‘Stay with the horses.’ Darrick instructed the squad leader, an elven mage. ‘Don’t look any warrior in the eye and keep those shields firm.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Darrick looked beyond the elf, whose curt confident nod belied the fear that had to be crawling in his belly, and saw the gathering mob of Wesmen pressing in towards the command tent on all sides. If the talks went wrong, there would be nowhere to run.

‘Have faith,’ said Blackthorne, picking up his mood. ‘Should we die, your army still has everyone it needs to win.’

‘How comforting to think they don’t really need me,’ said Darrick.

‘You know what I mean.’

The brown canvas of the tent flap was pulled aside and an old Shaman beckoned them in.

The tent was plainly furnished. To the left, a low pallet, tidy and made up. To the right, a serving table decked with meat, bread, jugs and goblets. To either side of the door, a Wesman guard and, in front of them, a table with a single chair. The old Shaman, dressed in plain brown shift, moved to stand behind Lord Tessaya who sat upright, gazing at them over a half-eaten plate of food.

‘Welcome to my lands,’ he said, a harsh smile cracking his tanned features.

‘I thank you for granting us audience,’ said Darrick, ignoring Tessaya’s crude attempt at baiting. ‘There is a critical matter to discuss that affects both our peoples.’

‘Yes,’ said Tessaya. ‘Your surrender that confirms Wesmen ascension in Balaia and stops pointless death.’ He looked past Darrick. ‘Baron Blackthorne, it is as ever a pleasure.’

‘I trust we shall soon be able to share the finest bottle from my cellars, my Lord,’ responded Blackthorne. ‘Assuming your departing force failed to find the way in. But unless you hear General Darrick, that pleasure will be denied us all.’

The Shaman leaned in and whispered into Tessaya’s ear. The Wesman Lord nodded.

‘I am already aware of your desperate search for help beyond this world. And even if you delay me here with meaningless talk, my kin Lord, Senedai, will destroy the Manse and then your precious Raven. He will soon overwhelm the Xeteskian unmen and, when he does, Balaia and another world will be open to my conquering armies. Speak, General Darrick. Let us see if you are as good a talker as you are a soldier.’ Tessaya leaned back in his chair and took a deep draught of the goblet at his right hand. At a snap of his fingers, a door guard ran to the table to grab a jug for refill.

‘Balaia is under threat. There is a hole in the sky that hangs above Parve. It links our world to another and it must be closed if we are not to be invaded by dragons. The Raven go to complete that task. If Lord Senedai stops them, we will all die. I have come here to ask you to stop him before he commits a monumental crime in the name of the Wesmen nation.’ Darrick searched Tessaya’s face for signs that he was really listening. He felt his face go cold as the contempt spread across the Wesman Lord’s features.

‘You must think me a stupid man and that makes me very unhappy,’ he said. ‘You should have respect for all I have achieved and yet you invent tales that a backward child would not believe.’

‘He speaks the truth,’ said Blackthorne. ‘And you know me as a man of honour. I would not lie to you.’

‘What I know is that desperate men will set aside their principles when death is the reward for keeping them,’ said Tessaya smoothly. ‘And I will tell you what is the truth. Indeed dragons will come here, completing a prophecy of our ancients unless I can stop them. And stop them, I will. There is no threat from the mark in the sky. My messengers tell me it is merely the fire mark of Parve, destroyed by your hands. I will not listen to you while your allies seek the only power that can halt the Wesmen march to Korina.

‘And yet I will show you more respect than you show me. If you want to stop the Wesmen and you refuse honourable surrender, it will have to be on the battlefield. So go and prepare for the fight, if you have the stomach for it. Under the terms of parley, you have three hundred counts to leave my camp. That count has started.’ He turned his attention to the food remaining on his plate.

Behind Darrick, the tent flap was pulled aside but he ignored it, striding forwards to bang his hands on the table, shaking the plate and upsetting the goblet which pirouetted over, spilling its liquid on the grass.

‘And what if I do tell the truth and your men stop The Raven from closing the hole? It will be too late to ask for forgiveness when dragons are laying waste to Balaia, and they will fly over Wesmen lands first.’ Darrick felt his anger burning. He heard a weapon drawn but ignored it. ‘What will you do?’

Tessaya met his stare, waving a hand to keep his guards back. He smiled. ‘If that is what you believe then you had better hope The Raven can outwit my northern army. The count continues.’

Blackthorne and Gresse came to Darrick’s shoulders and gently drew him back.

‘I understand your scepticism,’ said Blackthorne. ‘Yet it doesn’t change the reality. As a gesture of good faith, Gresse and I will remain here as your prisoners. Should what we say turn out to be untrue, we will be at your mercy.’

Tessaya pushed a spoonful of meat into his mouth and chewed, talking around the food and pointing the spoon at Blackthorne.

‘You are a brave man, Baron, and I have nothing but admiration for your defeat of my southern army. I almost lament the destruction of your town but such are the necessities of war. You make a generous offer but what hollow victory will it be, placing your two noble heads on spikes while my people are killed by your dragon allies?

‘Do you not understand? I am soon to march to victory in Korina once I have defeated you here. I will rule Balaia. So you see, you are already at my mercy.’ He turned to his Shaman who nodded and moved quickly to the tent door.

‘Arnoan will escort you to the borders of the camp. I will see you in battle.’

The three senior Balaians looked at each other. Darrick felt a sense of desperation sweep over him and, for a moment, considered breaking the parley to kill Tessaya. But he could not and he knew Blackthorne and Gresse would move to stop him. Tessaya’s point-blank refusal to believe him was quite predictable but it left The Raven helpless should Senedai defeat the Protectors.

Stalking from the audience, he found himself praying that Xetesk’s abominations would live up to their reputation.