‘I’m not leading any more demon-hunter teams into the Blackthornes. I’ve told you.’

‘Sol, no one is asking you to. Suarav and that Wesman with the long and involved name are doing what’s necessary. We’ve not had a raid in Xetesk for, what . . . a season and a half? Like I said, hear me out.’

Sol shrugged. ‘All right. Sorry.’

‘I’ve just come from the Balaia reconstruction council meeting and we’re starting to run into some problems. With Dystran being forced to step down, there’s a vacuum building. Whether or not I take over is neither here nor there. The trouble is that some of the Barons are talking about reinstituting the Korina Trade Alliance. While that’s not a bad thing in itself, it starts to divide eastern Balaia.

‘Tessaya doesn’t like it and neither does Rebraal. I can see their point. After all, Tessaya speaks for the whole of the Wesmen, Rebraal for the elven nation. But here, we’re all of a sudden going to have mage and non-mage power blocks. It smacks of the past.’

‘So find yourselves someone to unite you. Everyone respects Blackthorne. He’s perfect.’ Sol drank more wine, washing down his bread.

‘But like you say, he doesn’t really like to leave Blackthorne and we have to be honest, he’s not quite the man he once was.’

There was a long pause. Sol didn’t like the way this was heading at all. He stared at Denser, daring him to speak.

‘Sol, don’t make me say it.’ Denser had read his expression.

‘You want me to speak for Balaia? Come on, Denser, I’m no diplomat.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re thinking too small. I know you see yourself as the quiet man running his bar with his family in Xetesk. But to everyone of influence in Balaia, and for that matter, the Weslands and Calaius, you’re the voice and presence of the East. You survived the demon dimension; you’ve led the hunt into the Blackthornes; you’ve been at the centre of so much of the reconstruction planning; you aren’t a mage. And you were the centre of The Raven. There’s not a man or woman that wouldn’t accept you.’

‘All right, all right, enough massaging of my ego. You’re making me blush. Accept me as what?’

Denser leaned forward and placed his glass down on the table.

‘I’ve been asked to come down here after a unanimous vote of the council meeting. Sol, this country doesn’t need a diplomat or a representative. It needs to follow Calaius and the Wesmen. For the first time in our history, we need a leader. You.’

Sol almost dropped his glass. He felt his face flush and his heart race.

‘That’s quite a step up from bar owner,’ he managed.

Denser didn’t smile. ‘I’m not joking, Sol. Balaia needs stability. We’re in danger of reverting back to the old schisms. We have to be united or what we’ve been building will be wasted. What The Raven achieved will be wasted.’

‘Don’t you bring The Raven into this,’ snapped Sol.

‘Doesn’t stop it being true. You are the man who can keep it all together. You know you can. Come to the Mount. Talk to us. Please.’

‘I’ve got a bar to run and a wife to look after. I have a new child on the way and a son who needs me by him right now, I don’t have the time and I don’t have the energy.’

‘And they all need to have a secure future.’ Denser poured more wine into Sol’s glass. ‘Talk to us. See what we have in mind. Think about it.’

Sol looked at Denser and allowed a smile across his face. Anyone else and he would have dismissed the notion out of hand. To this man, though, he owed more than to anyone alive.

‘Tomorrow,’ he growled. ‘Now drink up and get lost. I’ve got to open up in a couple of hours.’

‘Thank you, Sol. You won’t regret it, I promise you.’

‘Denser, I already am. What the hell do you think I’m going to say to Diera?’

‘You’ll think of something suitably pithy and persuasive, I feel sure.’

‘Go.’

Denser drained his glass and walked back to the door, opening it on the rain sheeting down, pounding on the street. Sol wondered if Jonas had actually gone out. The two men shook hands and Sol pulled Denser into a brief embrace.

‘See you tomorrow,’ said Denser.

‘After lunch, when I’ve closed.’

Sol watched Denser walk away up The Thread and back to the Mount of Xetesk, pulling his cloak close about him. He shut and bolted the door and walked back through the bar towards the stairs. He paused by Hirad’s picture. The barbarian gazed back at him, eyes intense and full of belief, that damned smile on his face.

‘What on earth would you think, Coldheart?’ he said. ‘Probably nothing. Too busy laughing I expect. How does it sound . . . Sol, The Unknown Warrior, Ruler of Balaia. Daft, eh?’

And as he turned away, he could have sworn he saw Hirad nod.

Acknowledgements

At the risk of repeating myself for the sixth book in a row, I’d like to thank those who have supported and cajoled me through the writing of this book. Peter Robinson, John Cross, Dave Mutton and Dick Whichelow for their criticism, suggestions and encouragement. David Gemmell and Rob Grant for sound advice at a time of great change. Robert Kirby for helping me to another level and Nicola Sinclair for keeping my feet firmly on the ground.

And my family for just being brilliant.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Contents

Dedication

Cast List

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Acknowledgements

For Oscar, who brings such joy to my life

Cast List

Chapter 1

Blood sprayed across Geskard’s chest. He grunted in satisfaction and stepped back out of range. He needn’t have bothered. His strike had beaten his mark’s defence and bitten deep into the shoulder, carving through leather jerkin and flesh before smashing the collarbone.