‘And I shall have some to say to him,’ said Styliann, striding off, his three disinterested Protectors in his wake.

‘What’s got into him?’ asked Ilkar.

‘He’s been muttering about “organising things better afterwards” ever since he woke up,’ said Denser.

‘And he’s planning on telling this to Sha-Kaan now?’ Hirad looked after the hurrying figure.

‘I expect so.’ Denser shrugged.

‘Mistake,’ said Hirad, heading for Wingspread. ‘Big mistake.’

The set of Styliann’s shoulders told of a no-compromise show-down with the one-hundred-and-twenty-foot Great Kaan who was preparing for the ultimate battle. Hirad knew he’d talk to The Raven because of their immediate role. Aside from that, he would be tended for flight and fight. Nothing else was open to conversation.

Hirad, trotting quickly ahead of the rest of The Raven, caught Styliann before he reached Wingspread.

‘Styliann, I think I should be doing the talking,’ he said. The Xetesk master hardly broke stride to look at him.

‘Ah, Hirad the Dragonene. There are matters of great importance to iron out. Now is a keenly appropriate time. I think I can make myself heard.’

‘Styliann, you don’t understand,’ said Hirad.

The Dark Mage stopped, he and his Protectors surrounding Hirad. ‘Oh, I think I understand very well. And this one-way deal is about to be changed.’

‘What?’ Hirad gasped.

‘Stop him,’ ordered Styliann, his eyes wild. He set off again only this time the Protectors barred Hirad’s path. He tried to push them aside but they wouldn’t yield.

‘Get out of my way,’ said Hirad, anger rising.

Silence.

‘Don’t you get it? Just who is it you’re protecting? Because if you don’t move, it certainly won’t be Styliann, unless you want to guard a smouldering corpse.’ He tried to push past them again, one shoved him back roughly. Hirad’s sword was out in a moment. The Protectors came to ready.

‘Hirad, no.’ The Unknown’s sharp tone stopped him in his tracks. ‘They’ll kill you.’ He was at Hirad’s shoulder. ‘Ile, Rya, Cil, he speaks the truth. Let him pass.’

The Protectors sheathed weapons and stepped aside. Hirad ran through, The Raven behind him, and was quick enough to hear Styliann begin to speak. Vestare fretted around Sha-Kaan’s head. The old dragon had his eyes closed, his neck resting on the ground and his body half in the river. Styliann stood silent for a while, Septern’s texts clutched to his chest, as if summoning the courage to speak.

‘Sha-Kaan,’ he said. He was ignored. ‘Great Kaan, I must be heard.’

Sha-Kaan’s head moved and his eyes opened. He took in Styliann with his cool blue gaze, in a lazy sweep that encompassed The Raven running up behind. He settled on the Xeteskian, his jaws stretching a little.

‘This is not a granted audience,’ said Sha-Kaan, his voice low and sonorous. ‘Leave.’

‘No,’ said Styliann. ‘Make it granted.’

Sha-Kaan’s eyes narrowed and his head shot forwards, bowling two Vestare from their feet. His snout all but touched Styliann’s waist. ‘Never presume to speak to me in that manner,’ growled the Great Kaan. ‘You are not, and never will be, my Dragonene.’

‘My tone was not meant to offend,’ said Styliann. ‘But there is little time and—’

‘I must prepare. Leave.’

‘—there is a chance the spell will not be cast,’ continued Styliann smoothly.

That stopped them all. Sha-Kaan drew back his head sharply, his eyes blinking slowly, breath hissing into his cavernous lungs. Hirad turned and shot Denser and Ilkar a glance. Both shrugged their ignorance while Erienne frowned deeply, mouth moving wordlessly. Sha-Kaan grabbed Hirad’s attention with a sharp mind-jab.

‘How is this possible?’ he demanded.

‘Great Kaan, I have no idea. It is not a problem raised by The Raven’s mages,’ said Hirad.

‘I understood there to be a certain casting but that there were risks as to its outcome.’ Sha-Kaan’s voice was flat, cold and very angry. Hirad shuddered. It was Styliann who spoke.

‘That is indeed the case. It is merely that there is a feeling that Balaia needs assurances of your continued support and future aid in legitimate struggle.’ The air temperature seemed to cool. Sha-Kaan moved his head back in close to Styliann.

‘Assurances,’ he said.

Hirad noticed the Vestare had backed away from the dragon’s neck and head. He turned to The Raven and muttered:

‘Just in case. Give yourselves room. That goes for your Protectors too, Unknown.’

‘You don’t think—’ began Denser.

Hirad shook his head. ‘I would doubt it but, you know . . . Let me try and sort this out, all right?’ He walked briskly up to stand beside Sha-Kaan’s head, facing Styliann, whose face was set stubborn.

‘I feel there must have been a misunderstanding, Great Kaan,’ he said, feeling the dragon’s ire hot in his mind.

‘Let us hope so,’ replied Sha-Kaan. There was menace in his voice that Styliann clearly did not read.

‘No misunderstanding,’ he said, a slight smile on his face.

‘Styliann, I’m warning you to back off. This is not the time,’ said Hirad, hand back on the hilt of his sword.

‘Hm.’ Styliann lifted a finger, apparently framing his next words. ‘I realise that time is of the essence so let me make myself very clear.’ His eyes locked with Sha-Kaan’s. ‘I take it, your honour is not in question.’

‘I am a Kaan dragon,’ came the reply.

‘Exactly. Here is what will happen. You, the Kaan, will agree to help me regain my College. You will also help me in negotiating treaties with the Wesmen and the other Colleges. If you do not, I fear I will be unable to assist in the casting of the spell to close the rip; a fact that will render it uncastable.’

‘But if you do not assist, you will die,’ said Sha-Kaan.

‘And so will you all,’ said Styliann. ‘So I strongly suggest you agree to my terms. Either that or I walk away.’ There was a madness in his darting, wild eyes that Hirad had not seen before. It was like a crazed zeal and Styliann really believed he would get what he wanted; as if the Great Kaan, one hundred and twenty feet of animal power, would crumble to his crude blackmail. The Xeteskian’s hands were shaking and his tongue licked incessantly at his lips as he waited for Sha-Kaan to respond.

Hirad could not put into words what flowed through his body at that moment. The silence of The Raven told him they all felt the same. Disgust did not do it justice. Revulsion merely scratched its surface. Sha-Kaan, however, felt able to do more than glare his utter contempt.

‘You, little human, are willing to sacrifice the lives of everyone in Balaia and my entire Brood if you are not promised help to further your own personal ends?’

‘I prefer to think of it as fair recompense for my personal sacrifice in saving all of Balaia from certain death,’ said Styliann. ‘Though I can see where you might acquire your perception.’

‘But we are asking nothing,’ said Hirad, the words dragging themselves from his throat. ‘We do it simply because it has to be done.’

Styliann raised his eyebrows. ‘Then you have clearly not thought it all through quite as deeply as I have.’

‘Styliann, think about what you’re saying,’ said Denser from behind them. ‘You can’t walk away. You know that.’

‘Can’t I, Denser? I’ve already lost everything.’ Styliann didn’t turn round. ‘So just you watch me.’

‘But you’ll be killing us all,’ said Hirad.

‘So persuade your dragon not to call my bluff.’

Hirad wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look from Styliann’s face but he knew the mage could kill him before he struck. Sha-Kaan growled far down in his throat, the sound rumbling like a distant avalanche.

Styliann smiled again. ‘It seems a fairly open and shut matter. But please do me the courtesy of answering my request in the affirmative. Your word being your honour.’