Searing heat surrounded her, but the blazing wall parted like a stage curtain as Khalophis loosed one last burst of his powers.

Then they were falling. Camille closed her eyes as the ground rushed up towards her. Khalophis braced his legs as he dropped, slamming down on the move and carrying on as though his leap through the flames was nothing at all. Camille felt a rib break with the impact of slamming against his armour, but gritted her teeth against the pain. Khalophis kept running, smashing through the low doorway that led back to the outside world in an explosion of stone and plaster dust. He fired his bolter one-handed over his shoulder. Alien screeches told Camille that every one of them, was a killing shot. Whatever else she thought of Khalophis, he was a superlative warrior.

Camille drew gloriously fresh air into her lungs and, almost immediately, her vision cleared and her breathing eased.

The psychneuein swarmed from the ruined building. Smoke poured from its shattered windows and leaping flames licked up its length. Its structure bowed and shuddered as load-bearing elements melted. Spading brickwork and stone tumbled from its upper levels.

Khalophis unceremoniously dumped her from his shoulder, and she bit back a scream as the splintered ends of her broken rib ground together.

“Get in,” ordered Khalophis, and she looked behind her to see the welcome form of the disc-speeder. He threw his bolter into the vehicle and climbed into the pilot’s seat.

Camille dragged herself upright using the speeder’s exhausts and painfully opened the crew compartment hatch as its engines spooled up with a rising whine.

The swarming psychneuein were almost on top of them, the buzz of their frantic wings deafening. Less than twenty yards separated them from the vanguard of the monsters.

“Hurry, for Throne’s sake, hurry!” she shouted, pulling herself inside.

“Are you in?” Khalophis demanded.

“I’m in,” she said, pressing herself into one of the bucket seats and hauling the restraint harness around her body. The whine of the engines changed pitch, and the speeder leapt forward, the phenomenal acceleration slamming her head against the fuselage. She kept her eyes shut for long seconds, hardly daring to breathe as the long seconds ticked by.

The engine noise deepened, and Khalophis’ voice crackled over the intercom.

“We’re clear,” he said. “Are you all right back there?”

She wanted to snap at him, but that was the pain talking.

Instead she spat a mouthful of blood and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “I think I broke a rib, my lungs feel like I’ve swallowed a gallon of burning tar and thanks to your lead foot I’ve got a splitting headache, but I’ll live.”

“Good enough,” said Khalophis. “Alive is all I need.”

“I’m touched by your concern,” she said, before adding, “but thanks for saving my life.”

Khalophis didn’t acknowledge her, and they spent the journey back to Tizca in pained silence.

A SOFT HUMMING filled the medicae bay. Kallista reclined in bed, eyes closed, her chest rising and falling with rhythmic breaths. Her skin was grey, its surface dull and lustreless. Her hair had been shaved, and Lemuel wished he could do more for her than simply sit by her bedside and hold her hand.

He and Camille had taken alternating shifts to sit by her bedside, but Lemuel had been here for nearly forty-eight hours and was beginning to feel like lead weights were attached to his eyelids. A bank of walnut-panelled machines with numerous gold-rimmed dials and pict-slate readouts chirruped beside Kallista’s bed. Lengths of copper wiring coiled from jack plugs in their sides to points across her skull, and crackling globes buzzed softly along their top edges.

Kallista’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled weakly at the sight of him.

“Hello, Lemuel,” she said, her voice like footsteps on dead leaves.

“Hello, my dear,” he replied. “You’re looking well.” Kallista tried to laugh, but she winced in pain. “Sorry,” said Lemuel. “I shouldn’t make you laugh, your muscles are all strained.”

“Where am I?”

“In the neuro-wing of the Pyramid of Apothecaries,” said Lemuel. “After what happened to you, it seemed the most sensible place to bring you.”

“What did happen to me? Did I have another attack?”

“I’m afraid so. We tried to get your sakau, but you were too far gone,” said Lemuel, deciding to keep silent about what Kallista had said to him in her delirium.

Kallista lifted her arm to her forehead, trailing a collection of clear tubes and monitoring cables from a canula piercing the back of her hand. She touched her head and frowned, gently feeling the stubble and brass contacts on her scalp.

“Yes, sorry about your hair,” said Lemuel. “They had to shave it to attach those contacts.”

“Why? What are they for?”

“Ankhu Anen brought the devices from the Corvidae temple. He was a bit cagey when I asked what they were, but eventually he said that they monitor aetheric activity in your brain and quell any intrusions. So far, they seem to be working.”

Kallista nodded and surveyed her surroundings.

“How long have I been here?”

Lemuel rubbed his hands over his chin. “My beard says three days.”

She smiled and pushed herself further up the bed. Lemuel poured some water, and she gratefully drank the entire glass.

“Thank you, Lemuel. You are a good friend.”

“I do my best, dearheart,” he said, before adding. “Do you remember anything about what you saw? I only ask because Ankhu Anen seemed to think it might be important.”

Kallista bit her bottom lip, and he saw an echo of the fearful look he’d seen at Voisanne’s.

“Some of it,” she said. “I saw Tizca, but not like we know it. There was no sunshine and the only light was from the fires.”

“Fires?”

“Yes, the city was burning,” said Kallista. “It was being destroyed.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know, but I saw the shadow of a stalking beast in the thunderclouds, and I could hear howling from somewhere far away,” said Kallista, tears gathering in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. “Everything was burning and glass was falling like rain. All the shards were like broken mirrors and every one of them had the image of a single staring eye looking back at me.”

“That’s quite a vision,” said Lemuel, taking her hand and stroking her upper arm.

“It was horrible, and it’s not the first time I’ve had one like it. I didn’t recognise Tizca the first time I saw it but, now that I’m here, I’m sure it was the same one.”

A sudden thought occurred and she said, “Lemuel, did I write anything this time?”

He nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “but it didn’t make any sense. Ankhu Anen is trying to decipher it now.”

Kallista closed her eyes and wiped away her tears. She took a shuddering breath, and then smiled as someone opened the door behind him. Lemuel turned and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man in the uniform of a captain in the Prospero Spireguard. He was ludicrously handsome, with dark features and as chiselled a jaw as any heroic image of Hektor or Achilles.

Lemuel disliked him almost immediately on principle.

The man’s crimson uniform jacket was immaculately pressed, decorated with brass buttons, gold frogging and numerous polished medals. He carried a silver helmet in the crook of his arm, and a long curved sabre was belted at his hip next to a gleaming laspistol.

“Sokhem,” said Kallista with a grateful smile.

The soldier gave Lemuel a quick nod of acknowledgement. He held out his hand and said, “Captain Sokhem Vithara, sir. 15th Prosperine Assault Infantry.”

Lemuel took the proffered hand and winced at the strength of Vithara’s grip.

“Lemuel Gaumon, remembrancer, 28th Expedition.”

“A pleasure,” said Vithara. “Kalli’s told me of your friendship, and I thank you for that, sir.”