Chapter Twenty-Six

Well Met By Tainted Moonlight

Aiushtha was becoming more disturbed by the bleeding moon as they travelled. She still wondered why exactly they were trusting Fymryn, since she was the one who had helped to bring so much uncertainty, and perhaps doomed most of the world. But she supposed that anybody who was willing to fight Terrorblade was an ally.

She wasn't sure what to make of Luna either. She was easier to see as an ally due to her dislike for Mene, but the woman was dangerous, and there was something about her which made Aiushtha wary. Mirana and Marci seemed to know about her past, and maybe Purist did too, but Luna wasn't sharing it with anybody else. Fymryn disliked her, so did Eserren, that much was obvious, yet they had set aside their differences for the time being.

She didn't much like the Barren Plains either. Not enough lived here for her to feel comfortable. They had started to travel at night, the better to avoid being spotted by Dragon Knight patrols. Davion had warned them about the garudas, though they had yet to see any.

Nova snorted and growled. Sagan was next.

'Damn.' Luna muttered, taking up her blade.

'What is it?' Mirana asked warily.

'We're being followed.'

'Who by?'

'If I'm right, pangoliers claiming to be looking for you, Princess.' Luna answered. 'I thought I'd lost them before we met in the swamps. It seems that they were more persistent than I thought.'

'The terrain is poor for a stand.' Eserren assessed.

'We could put Mirana, Caewyn and Aiushtha in the middle.' Davion suggested. 'The rest of us will defend them.'

'A sound plan.' Eserren approved, raising her bardiche.

'You assume that these pangoliers mean us harm.' Purist said calmly. 'Why not wait and see what exactly it is that they want? Perhaps they are friendly.'

'I hope so, Purist.' Davion murmured. 'But we haven't run across many friendly strangers so far.'

'Have a little faith,' Purist squinted into the distance. 'Caewyn, you have keen eyes. What can you see?'

Caewyn peered in the same direction as Purist, back towards the outpost. 'I can see three large creatures. They look a bit like armadillos, but with horns. They're coming this way. The pangoliers are riding them.'

'Are they charging?' Luna demanded.

'No. They're not moving very quickly. They haven't drawn their weapons either. Hmm. Their armour looks fancy, and expensive, and it looks like they have feathers in their caps.'

'Ah!' Purist smiled. 'They might be Nivan Gallants. If so, then we have little to fear.'

'Unless they're after Davion.' Fymryn noted.

'The Gallants aren't bounty hunters, Fymryn.' Purist stated. 'Did you say that they were looking for the Princess, Luna?'

'Yes.' Luna replied, still clutching her sword.

Purist nodded. 'Princess, allow me to greet them. If they are here for the reason I expect, then they may be of help to us. If not, I'm sure that I can convince them to move on.'

Marci whistled and signed. Mirana translated for her. 'Are they friends of yours?'

'Possibly.' Purist answered. 'I have met a few of them over the years. What say you, Princess?'

Mirana considered, then nodded. 'I'd rather not fight them. If they threaten you, signal us and we'll come to your aid.'

Purist clearly doubted that the Gallants were a threat, but he appreciated the offer. He nodded, leaned the haft of his hammer against his shoulder, and set off to meet the approaching pangoliers.

Aiushtha nervously dug at the dusty ground with her hooves and tightened her grip on her staff, trying to think of which spells would help them against three large armadillo creatures, and three armed pangoliers.

There were a few which came to mind. She might be able to confuse or even charm one or two of them. A scintillating bolt would give her more direct allies time to close in. Marci and Fymryn were fast, especially when they used their powers.

Aiushtha continued to paw at the ground.

'Do cervitaurs normally dig their own graves before battle?' Luna remarked.

'I hope for the best, but I like to be ready for a bad outcome, just in case.' Aiushtha muttered.

'That's a good idea!' Caewyn opined brightly. 'I'm not very good at multitasking though.'

'Are you always this... chirpy?' Luna demanded.

'Are you always so grim?' Eserren retorted.

'You're one to talk.'

Marci whistled sharply and indicated her eyes, then pointed towards Purist. They stopped bickering. She had the right idea: they had to stay focused.

Purist seemed to be doing well enough. Aiushtha couldn't hear what they were saying, but they appeared pleased to see him, and the rest of them too. Purist beckoned for them to follow. The pangoliers dismounted and followed along, holding their heads high. Purist was speaking to them in fluent Nivanese as they approached, smiling more than Aiushtha had expected. That was a good sign, right?

'Princess Mirana, it's my honour to introduce an old friend, though knowing him, he will want to introduce himself.' Purist announced. 'You can all relax, they're here to help us.'

The lead pangolier strode towards Mirana, swept his cap from his head, and bowed low. His companions bowed too. 'It is a great pleasure to meet you, Princess Mirana, and you, Handmaiden Marci.' He straightened up, his fellows doing the same. 'I am Donté Panlin, with me are Pierro Deureni and Jac Nevereux. We are Gallants from fair Nivan, sent to find you, your imperial majesty, and your loyal handmaiden. We have heard much about you, although,' Donté placed his cap atop his head at a rakish angle, his eyes aglitter, 'the tales failed most unforgivably to correctly capture your great beauty.'

Mirana and Marci exchanged bemused sideways glances, both of them looking to Davion.

Davion raised his eyebrows and shrugged. 'What? I don't know them.'

'No, but we have heard of you,' Donté said. 'You must be Sir Davion the Dragon Knight, as famed for your prowess in battle as you are for your skill in charming beautiful women. You would make a good Gallant, Sir.'

'Erm... I didn't know I was known to you.' Davion rubbed the back of his neck. Mirana had rolled her eyes at Donté's assessment of Davion's charm. Marci looked intrigued. Aiushtha guessed that they had somehow not heard about his Eldwurm issue.

'But your tales are well known, my friend!' Donté declared. 'Told most eloquently before they are passed from tavern-to-tavern.'

'Taverns. Of course.' Mirana murmured. 'Why am I not surprised?'

Davion chuckled. 'Bram. He always was a good storyteller.

'I must say, your imperial majesty, that if these tales are true, and I believe that they mostly are, you are most fortunate to have captured the heart of such a man.'

'What? Oh! No, no!' Mirana waved her hands, flushing a little. 'We're...' she actually chuckled at the assumption. 'We're not together. We are friends, but not lovers.'

'Oh? That is most curious.' Donté mused. 'Most curious. I heard a very romantic tale of good Sir Davion sharing a kiss with a priestess of the Dark Moon Order. The rest of the tale seemed far-fetched, something to do with him being falsely condemned to death before a dragon attacked his captors, but I can believe that first part.'

Mirana glanced at Davion, who shrugged again, and Marci, who looked down at her feet, blushing. 'You didn't mention that, Marci.'

Marci signed at her sheepishly.

'We were about to die.' Davion added.

'It's true?' Jac demanded. 'But if that is true...'

'Easy, my friends!' Purist cautioned. 'There is much you need to learn first, but you can trust Sir Davion. Please, tell the Princess why you are here.'

'I bring news from Rasolir, your majesty: the usurper Shabarra has been deposed and sent fleeing from the Imperium.' Donté lifted his head proudly. 'Your majesty, my lady, I and my fellow Gallants are sworn to a most noble cause: to bring you both, and any companions who may wish to accompany you, back to Rasolir, so that you may assume your place upon the Solar Throne, Princess Mirana, and rule the Helio Imperium.'

Jac and Pierro exchanged looks. They had expected Mirana to be shocked, flabbergasted, at least a little surprised.

'This is good news, Princess.' Donté added, confused.

'I already knew, Sir.' Mirana said, indicating Purist.

'Oh. You could have told me that, Sir Purist. For somebody whose patron sees all, you reveal very little.'

'I know how much you like to talk, Sir Donté.' Purist's beard twitched with amusement.

'Well, know that we will accompany you, Princess.' Donté bowed again. 'And by happy chance, you have been walking in the right direction! Though I assume that Sir Purist and your fair friend here have been guiding you. Forgive me, my lady, for I do not know your name.'

Luna glanced at Mirana, who nodded. 'It's Luna.'

'A pretty name, my lady Luna. Though,' Donté indicated the bleeding moon and its spreading corona of blood, 'sadly your namesake is less so these days.'

Luna grunted in response.

'We are but a week's travel from the town where our ship dropped us,' Donté continued. 'We can be on the shores of your homeland very soon, Princess.'

Mirana shook her head. 'I'm sorry, but we can't leave. Not yet.'

'Oh? Why not?'

'We weren't travelling south to cross the sea.' Davion explained. 'We're heading to Dragon Keep. We need the help of the Dragon Knights.'

'They are courageous souls.' Donté nodded. 'But fear not, for not only will I and my Gallants protect you, the Regent and Viceroy Kashurra have arranged for three Legions to be stationed on Vigilus Island, to join us for your return home, Princess. An old friend of yours, Garrisan, is amongst them.'

'Regent?' Mirana echoed. 'There's a Regent? Who is it?'

Marci whistled something and made a couple of signs Davion did not know.

'Three legions!' Luna exclaimed. 'They sent an entire cohort?'

'That sounds like a lot.' Aiushtha noted.

'Over sixteen-thousand men.' Eserren recalled.

'I never was much good with numbers, but that sounds like an army to me.'

'A big one, Aiushtha,' Davion told her, astounded at the fact that such a force was so close. 'If they could help us...' he did not need to finish the thought. It was known throughout the entire world that the soldiers of the Imperium were highly trained, well equipped, disciplined and expertly directed. They were usually deployed in trios, often called "cohorts", the better to overwhelm enemy forces or hold positions against difficult odds.

In answer to your first question, your majesty,' Donté said smoothly, 'Lina of Misrule has taken the role of Regent until your return.'

'I feel like I know that name.' Davion murmured.

'She is also known as "the Slayer".' Jac added.

'I think I have heard of her.' Davion nodded. 'Kaden wondered if she had some connection to Slyrak and other fire dragons, but apparently he dismissed the idea.'

'She is a brave and passionate woman,' Donté told Mirana. 'According to your Viceroy and Praetor Garrisan, she helped to lead the rebellion against the usurper, and won the day when your supporters stormed the palace.'

Marci whistled again and made the same signs.

'Marci wants to know about Viceroy Kashurra. What happened to him?'

'He still serves as Viceroy, my lady.' Donté told her. 'It was he who summoned us to Rasolir, and Lady Lina who gave us our mission at his suggestion. He is most eager to see you and the Princess once again.'

'And Garrisan?' Mirana frowned slightly. 'You said he was a Praetor. We knew him as Commander of the Sun Guard. I thought he died during the Bloody Dance.'

'No, your majesty. He survived. He spoke a little of that night when we were sailing here. He felt ashamed, your majesty, to be taken alive instead of dying in defence of you and your family. He was banished to the city arena, but Lady Lina recruited him for the rebellion, and he fought alongside her.

But he refused to rejoin the Sun Guard. Instead, he volunteered to join the Legions at Vigilus Island. He was given the rank of Praetor, at least for the time being, whether he remains as such falls to you, Princess.'

Mirana nodded slowly. 'He fought bravely. As far as I am concerned, he should not be ashamed. I look forwards to seeing him again.'

Marci whistled again and made a different sign.

'Was there a Captain Hyses in Rasolir? Or one amongst the Legions?' Mirana asked.

Donté shook his head. 'I do not think so, your majesty.'

Marci hung her head and sighed sadly. Davion put his hand on her shoulder. She had told him that she had been trained by a Sun Guard named Hyses. It seemed that he had not survived the Bloody Dance.

Mirana shook her head. 'He was a good man. I'm sorry, Marci.'

'Will you accompany us then, your majesty?' Donté asked hopefully. 'Your companions are welcome to come too, if they wish.'

Mirana sighed. 'We can't. Not yet.'

'I turns out that we need to save the world.' Aiushtha declared, wondering if the night and the bleeding moon would stay long enough for them to tell their tale. 'Any volunteers?'


Callardis peered over the ridge again. They'd come a long way, following the border lines but not quite sticking to the very edges of the Imperium. Lina would have tasked the sentries to watch for them, and the border crossings were likely swarming with soldiers.

But Kashurra had wanted them to go to Stonehall. He would have thought this through. He was the sort who planned ahead, it seemed.

The ground here was already harder, more rock than soil it appeared to Callardis.

Shabarra hated it. The man had been sleeping poorly ever since leaving Rasolir. The only thing he occasionally enjoyed were his dreams. Callardis had not asked. It was not his business to know what the God Emperor saw in his sleep.

Yet ever since they had left the plundered mountain stronghold, Shabarra had been in a better mood. He still hated sleeping on anything other than a feather mattress, but he was more determined than before.

They had found a sheltered spot close to the border with Stonehall a day ago, and had watched for any weaknesses they could exploit.

Uldros had spotted a gap in a patrols. Kashurra had indeed planned ahead. The guards here should have been more vigilant than others, since Revtel and Stonehall were not above sending infiltrators and spies into the Imperium.

Callardis did not care how Kashurra had arranged this. He knew that he would apologise for doubting him when he next saw him.

Callardis led the way, he and his men keeping Shabarra in the middle. Callardis assumed that the wayward patrols were misdirected, but not disloyal. He wanted to avoid a fight here. Leaving a trail of bodies behind would only make things harder. The last thing they wanted was for Lina to be prepared for their unforeseen alliance with Stonehall.

That still rankled. Stonehall had never been a friend to the Imperium. By all rights, as a nation, culture and society, Stonehall should have been obliterated over twenty years ago.

A cult obsessed with bringing about the end of the world and the ushering forth the dominion of Demons, hidden throughout Old Stonehall, had worked their fell magics and summoned hordes of hellish creatures into the city.

Worse still, they had summoned forth the dreaded Vrogros, the Underlord, leader of the Abyssal Horde.

Stonehall had fought back bravely, Callardis had to admit that. The famed Bronze Legion had fought until the bitter end, and somehow the tides had been turned and the Abyssal Horde had withdrawn. The stories claimed that an auxiliary member of the Bronze Legion—scribe, medic, sapper, runner, the details weren't that clear—had taken up the weapon of the fallen Legion Commander and struck the Underlord a critical blow, forcing him to withdraw. The Legion had rallied around this newfound champion and banished every demon in the city, and put every cultist to death. The Emperor at the time had also survived, and the people of Stonehall had left the ruins behind to rebuild.

Of all things, they had made an alliance with the Fae of Revtel. As a result, what should have taken decades to accomplish was done in a handful of years. The Fae had grown the foundations, and the survivors had done the rest, creating New Stonehall and reforming Stonehall as a mighty power. The Bane of the Abyss, the new Legion Commander, had led her troops on missions of conquest and expansion, the formerly small force growing as it went, expanding Stonehall's power and borders by conquering other settlements, making them vassals or subjects of their new rulers.

Callardis knew that they would have to be careful. Kashurra had paved the way for them to cross the border. Making an alliance with Stonehall would be another matter, possibly more difficult. It also rankled with him that God Emperor Shabarra would likely have to offer them something in trade, like some common peddler. This was what that upstart Lina, no doubt colluding with the conniving exiled Princess, and maybe even the whore goddess she apparently served, had reduced the God Emperor to: a vagrant beggar.

Callardis would take great honour in killing her, and anybody else who had betrayed or conspired against Shabarra.

Callardis crouched and lifted his clenched fist. The others dropped too and peered around. Callardis was sure that he had seen movement. He doubted that it was a wild sphinx, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the Misrulian harlot still had sphinx riders out searching for them. If she had sent anubi trackers, she had thankfully sent them in the wrong direction. Perhaps they had Kashurra to thank for that too.

It wasn't a sphinx. It was a pair of soldiers, not Imperium soldiers, they were over the border now. They had to be from Stonehall. Fae tended to buzz around, and they rarely sent out their specially cultivated warbreeds for something as mundane as a border patrol.

Callardis remained still. They had left the horses behind, sending them off in random directions to try to confuse any pursuers. A calculated risk. On foot, they would be harder to spot, but they would move more slowly. They had all covered their accoutrements with their cloaks. If the Stonehall soldiers spotted them and figured out who they were, they would summon reinforcements. Sun Guard were infamous in Stonehall for their skill and lethality. As for Shabarra, they might see him as a useful bargaining chip.

At least he was somewhat disguised. After days on the move with little time to fret over appearance, they were all dirty, and apart from Tarius, who seemed unable to grow more than stubble around his mouth, they were all developing straggly beards. Uldros had already had one, and his now looked especially woebegone.

They waited until the patrol was out of sight, then crept across the stony ground. There was little cover out here, all the more reason to travel at night.

The light cast by the moon was silver in the middle, the red corona about it was blood red and cast an unsettling, macabre light about it.

Tarius swallowed. 'It's an ill omen.'

'Quiet!' Callardis hissed. He had no idea what it meant. Right now, he did not care to. It was a mystery Tarius could worry about when Shabarra was safe.

They pressed on, moving furtively along the next river they encountered. This also annoyed Callardis. He was a Sun Guard, not some cowardly sneak-thief.

He wondered if Shabarra would allow him to place the heads of the traitors atop the Sunrise Gates personally.

Uldros hissed Callardis' name and pointed into the distance. Callardis peered into the blood-tinged gloom and saw it: a series of pillars. Some were toppled, but a few remained standing. They were all covered with scrawls. Even from here, the runes hurt to look upon. Ozkavosh.

'Old Stonehall.' Tarius whispered. He was right. They had stumbled upon the outskirts of the old capital. It had grown so large it had reached towards the border, the gates and walls facing Imperium territory had once bristled with weaponry and soldiers.

Now those walls were long since turned to dust, levelled during the Underlord's invasion or taken apart to aid in the building of New Stonehall. Through the red haze, Callardis could see the gutted carcasses of buildings and skeletal frames. Here and there were grave markers, the dead buried where they had fallen.

This was cursed ground. Nothing grew where the demons had trod, the earth blackened and charred, frozen and petrified by their unhallowed, unwelcome feet.

Nobody would expect them to hide here. Callardis did not fear whatever old curses lingered here, and the Demons were long gone.

He led them over the old bridge, towards the broken gates. They looked forlorn and lost, standing there with no walls to be part of.

They moved into the nearby square, weapons drawn. Shabarra was doing a credible job of hiding his fear, only Callardis noticed his hands shaking. He did not blame him. Though long abandoned and forsaken, the ruins of Old Stonehall had an unpleasant feel to them. Callardis could still sense the fear and despair in the air, and the joy and pleasure of the Demons as they slaughtered, devoured and ravaged with wanton cruelty, compassion and mercy anathema to their vile natures.

This was part of the apparent curse they had left behind, the lingering echoes of the horrors they had committed.

'Is that...' Tarius did not finish the question.

Callardis could see what had stunned him. Standing in the middle of the square was a ramshackle edifice, made of bones nailed together with obsidian pegs. Draped with tanned human skin, it resembled a large, monstrous figure, horned, adorned with crudely fashioned and welded metal plates. Looking closely, Callardis could see that the facsimilie of armour had been made from the actual armour of fallen Stonehall soldiers.

'Hideous, isn't it?'

They all spun in the direction of the voice, weapons raised. Shabarra moved behind Tarius and Uldros.

How how they not heard the woman approach? She wasn't alone either. At her back were others, wearing bronze armour, sculpted to resemble toned muscle and sinew. Their round shields were decorated with a sigil Callardis recognised: a citadel rising from a solitary mountain. The symbol of Stonehall. These soldiers were of the Bronze Legion.

The sole woman standing before them was clad in thicker plate, her spaulders asymmetrical. Attached to the back of her cuirass were two poles, bearing the sigils of Stonehall backed by crimson. Her helm was winged, with a long blood red plume trailing behind. In her hand was a metal-hafted glaive with a wickedly shaped long blade.

Callardis also knew of this woman. There was only person she could be: Legion Commander Tresdin, one of Stonehall's greatest warriors.

She regarded Callardis with dark blue eyes, eyes which had seen death and mayhem on a scale even Callardis could not imagine. Judging from the lines on the bronze skin of her face, she was in her late thirties, maybe her early forties.

'That's an impressive weapon,' Tresdin remarked, eyeing Callardis' labrys. 'Not common mercenaries, are you?' Her eyes roved downwards, noticing the gold and crimson plate visible through a gap in Callardis' cloak. 'Ah! Sun Guard. I've always wanted to test my skills against those of the famous Sun Guard.'

Callardis tensed. Uldros and Tarius remained in front of Shabarra.

'But sadly, now is not the time.' Tresdin said. 'You are trespassing in the sovereign territory of Stonehall. Identify yourselves. Come now, I know you are Sun Guard, and I can guess who you are escorting. Word travels fast.'

'If you know, why ask?'

'Why not? It is my job.'

'Your Emperor would not waste you on a simple patrol.'

Tresdin smirked. 'Very astute. But I don't know you personally. Here, the visitor gives their name first.'

Callardis glanced carefully at Shabarra, who nodded. 'I am Commander Callardis, Sun Guard and loyal servant of God Emperor Shabarra. My compatriots are Tarius and Uldros, also members of the Sun Guard.'

'And your charge?'

Shabarra moved into view, but stayed behind Callardis. 'I am God Emperor Shabarra, rightful ruler of the Helio Imperium, chosen by the gods themselves to lead.'

'Apparently, some people disagree, God Emperor.' Tresdin commented. 'I never thought to catch you trespassing in my country.'

'How dare you?'

'Calm yourself, please, your divine majesty.' Tresdin smiled. 'We were expecting you. We knew that you would end up heading this way. I have been ordered to bring you before Emperor Galanius.'

'You were told of our arrival?'

'Of course, though you are earlier than I expected. We have a mutual friend, one who knows you well. He contacted us not long before you were betrayed by your people.'

'Kashurra.' Callardis murmured.

'Your most loyal ally, risking his life by contacting us, and practical, being willing to put aside his pride to suggest an alliance.' Tresdin bowed, not bending much due to her armour. 'I, Legion Commander Tresdin, Bane of the Underlord, Avenger of Old Stonehall, Champion of New Stonehall, and Leader of the Bronze Legion, welcome you to the nation of Stonehall, God Emperor. I am most eager to aid in the conquest of the Helio Imperium.'


'Senator Draxius?'

Draxius looked up from his meal, noticing that his wife was annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of dinner. 'Yes, Coris?'

'There is a visitor here to see you. She says that her need is urgent.'

Luresia raised her eyebrows. 'An urgent need, hmm?'

Draxius smirked. 'Apparently so. It's not my fault women love me.'

'Oh, so it's my fault, is it?'

Draxius chuckled. 'Did this visitor give a name, Coris?'

'Yes, Senator. Her name is Lina.'

Luresia stopped smiling. 'The Slayer?'

'It appears so, my lady.'

Draxius sighed and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. 'Forgive me, Luresia. We ought to speak to her.'

'Of course.' Luresia stood with him, disgruntled at leaving the ash drake curry to go cold. 'She is vital to our cause.'

'Bring her to the parlour.' Draxius told Coris. 'Bring out a bottle of wine. Icewrack White, please.'

'Very good, Senator.' Coris bowed and set off to follow his instructions.

Draxius took his wife's hands in his. 'We shall see a new Imperium rise from the ashes of the old.'

'Yes, we shall.' Luresia smiled. 'Let's see what the Slayer wants.'

They went through into the parlour, a comfortable room with couches arranged about the fireplace. There was already a fire crackling in the hearth.

Lina was pacing when they entered, eager to get this over with. She stopped and bowed. Draxius bowed in return, and Luresia curtsied.

'Welcome to my home, Lady Lina.' Draxius smiled warmly. 'This is my wife, Luresia.'

'A pleasure,' Lina said, sounding uneasy. 'Forgive me, Senator, but I would like to keep this brief.'

'As you wish, my lady. Please, speak your mind.'

Lina inhaled. 'I cannot go through with your scheme.'

Luresia bit her lip and reached behind her back, ready to signal Coris. They were not without guards of their own. Lina had come alone, but she was dangerous enough without help.

'Oh,' Draxius sounded only mildly put out, as if Lina had simply turned down an invitation to dinner. 'Might you reconsider?'

Lina blinked. 'You're asking me to arrange a murder. I cannot do that. Not yet.'

Draxius raised his eyebrows. 'Not yet?'

Lina inhaled again. 'I would at least like to meet her first. I want to see what she is like.'

'What is there to see? She is of Shabarra's blood. She is like him in spirit and temperament.'

Lina scowled. 'Do you have siblings, Senator?'

Draxius shook his head. 'No, my lady.'

'What about you?' Lina asked Luresia.

'None, my lady.'

'I do. A sister. A twin, though we look nothing alike.' Lina said. 'And we are not alike in temperament either. Blood has nothing to do with it. For all we know, Kashurra is right, and Princess Mirana may become the greatest Empress the Imperium has ever known.' She shrugged. 'Or you could be right, and she might as bad as Shabarra, if not worse. We have no way of knowing until she is here, and I won't be like Shabarra and attempt to have her killed before she has a chance to prove herself.'

'It will be harder to have her removed discreetly when she arrives.'

'A risk I am willing to take.' Lina stated. 'If she turns out to be like Shabarra, I'll kill her myself if I must.'

Draxius nodded. 'I can respect that, my lady. We both can. Rest assured that we will support you either way, my lady.'

Lina was clearly unsettled by that. 'I… thank you, Senator. I'll take my leave now.'

'Are you sure you won't stay?' Luresia asked, more for the sake of courtesy. 'We were going to have a glass of Icewrack White. You're welcome to join us.'

'Thank you, but I really ought to leave now. Another time, perhaps?' She was not being entirely truthful, Draxius knew that. Maybe she didn't like Icewrack White. Her loss.

'Another time.' Draxius nodded. 'Good night, Lina.'

Lina let Coris escort her out. Draxius noticed her shiver in the unsettling glow of the bleeding moon.

'Do you think it's a sign too, my dear?' Luresia inquired.

'The bleeding moon?' Draxius eyed it through the window, and heard his wife pouring out the wine. 'Perhaps.'

'She's more cautious than I expected.'

'Yes,' Draxius accepted the goblet she handed to him. He could feel the chill of the wine as he raised it to his mouth. 'Maybe her ambitions have been tempered. Maybe she won't help us after all. No matter.' He clinked his glass against Luresia's. 'Even if she refuses, it's not the end of the world.'


Knight's Hearth had been built over the site of a massive dragon nest, not long after the first Dragon Knights had exterminated the local dragon population.

Knights Hearth was the first city to be built in the Barren Plains. Its food came from the sea, either by trade or harvest, and by overland trade. It had originally been built as a bastion, to watch over the purged dragon nest, in case any returned or an egg had been missed. Over time, it had grown outwards. The original castle was still there, right in the centre of the city, and was its seat of government.

It was still a bastion, but not an impossible one to overcome. In fact, it would be easier to overwhelm than Trestaine.

Here, with the Dragon Knights so close in Dragon Keep, the city's defenders had become even more complacent and sloppy.

Terrorblade looked down upon the city from the ridge, hidden in the shadows, out of range of their siege engines and archers.

It was said that Knight's Hearth was built upon the bones of dragons, and that no dragon could claim it.

Terrorblade intended to prove them wrong. The old castle's original purpose would be tested, and Terrorblade knew that the vigilance of its sentries would be found wanting.

He had decided that now was the time to risk using the call. He had reached into the Thunder, using the souls of the Eldwurms he had defeated, calling to the avatars they had once commanded, now his to use as he saw fit.

The un-dead were but a small part of his army. They were the disposable soldiers. In truth, his new pawns were too, but they were more useful.

Knight's Hearth. A city of over fifty thousand souls. An army waiting for his command, they just did not know it yet. They never would.

There would be no mercy tonight, though Terrorblade intended to leave a handful of people alive.

The dragons now flocking to his side were not the only ones who would follow his bidding. There were others who had heard him too.

There were more waiting beyond this plane too.


Sir Galiman lowered his tankard, frowning. He was certain that he had felt rumbling this time. Distant, controlled, but present and worrying.

Normally, he and his squire, Tomos, had nothing to fear here. Knight's Hearth was perhaps the safest city on the continent. He and a few other Dragon Knights were sometimes sent here to survey the old tunnels, to make sure that no new dragons were moving in.

Galiman was here more often than most, and everybody knew why: he was getting old. He was slowing down, losing his edge.

He hated to admit it, but they weren't entirely wrong. Though it had galled him to be sent here more often than not, he had grown to appreciate the easier pace. The locals admired him too. He often had a group of guards or adventurers to entertain with his tales in the evenings, and the innkeeper of his preferred haunt gave him bed, board and beer on the house. It could have been worse, and all he had to do was occasionally trudge down ancient tunnels in case a dragon turned up.

The tunnels were always empty.

Not today.

Galiman nudged Tomos. 'Bring me my swords.'

Tomos scurried off at once, returning seconds later with Galiman's swords. Galiman had Tomos start helping him with his armour next, most of it fashioned from the scales of a fire dragon.

As Tomos secured the right spaulder, it began.

The entire inn began to shake, and not just the inn. The whole city trembled as the tremors began.

Galiman recognised the signs at once, yet even he could not believe it. It was happening here? Impossible!

'Earth dragons!' he breathed. 'Hurry!'

Even as he realised what was happening, he still could not believe it. For tremors of this magnitude, for most of the street opposite to fall into a gaping chasm, there were only two possibilities: they were being attacked by multiple earth dragons, or the Eldwurm Uldorak was here.

Uldorak was dead, so it had to be the former. That seemed even less plausible!

But there they were, emerging from yawning chasms in the streets. Earth dragons roared as they stepped into the streets, heedless of the darts and blades of the guards. Behind them came shambling figures, once-living men, women and children sent forth to grim and bloody purpose: to cleanse the city of all life.

'Tomos, get word to Dragon Keep!' Galiman ordered.

'But Sir Galiman—'

'Now!'

Tomos did not argue further. He was a good lad, and Galiman hoped that he would make it. But he had no hopes for his own life. He knew that he would not survive this night. All he could do was give the city militia a fighting chance, buy them time to evacuate the citizens.

Both swords ready, he kicked open the door to the street and marched out. Several revenants lurched towards him. He hacked them apart with his swords, the impressively sharp blades freshly honed, originally given shape in the Forge of Dragon Keep and imbued with the scales of sky dragons. Fast, light and deadly, these blades had served Galiman well.

All was havoc within and without.

Not only were earth dragons rampaging through the city, sky dragons were wheeling overhead, swooping down, plucking luckless archers from the walls and sending them plummeting into the streets below. Chaos dragons materialised out of nowhere around the gates, shredding those who tried to flee. Ionic dragons glided around, blasting siege engines with lightning.

Galiman saw an earth dragon heading his way. He charged as it did, rolling aside at the last moment and slicing at its flank. His blades drew blood.

The earth dragon wheeled around, snarling and drooling. Galiman readied himself.

It came at him again, horns down and ready to gore him.

Galiman ducked as they drew near, rising from his crouch and driving his swords upwards, into the dragon's underbelly. It roared as it ran, unable to stop itself, the swords tearing parallel wounds in its hide.

Galiman did not wait. He ran after it, ducked under the flailing tail, and stabbed his sword into the dragon's back left leg, driving deep, severing tendons.

The dragon stumbled. He left the blade where it was, ejected one of the twin magenta shards from his left gauntlet, and stabbed it into the dragon's chest.

The dragon spun, forcing him to duck, but in doing so it opened itself up to another attack.

Galiman thrust his arm forwards, and a jet of flame leapt from the gauntlet, straight into the dragon's eyes. It howled and fell back, shaking its head, now blinded. Galiman closed in and rammed his sword into its neck, through the windpipe, until it hit bone, the dragon's spinal cord.

The dragon wheezed and choked, trying futilely to draw in air.

Galiman ripped the sword free and stepped back, letting it collapse. When its writhing became feebler, he stepped in again and stabbed it in the eye, making sure it was dead.

He paused only to recover his other sword before moving on. One dragon down, not bad for an old Dragon Knight past his prime.

The screaming was everywhere, drowned out by the roars of the dragons. Corpses were left where they fell, great chunks torn from them, flesh ripped asunder, limbs severed. Blood flowed in the gutters and coated the buildings.

Galiman was no stranger to bloodshed. But this was no battle. This was a slaughter.

This was a massacre.

In the plaza ahead, he came across members of the watch being routed by a juvenile chaos dragon. It skipped in and out of reality, tearing its victims apart, playing with its food.

Galiman closed in, slashing at its wings. The chaos dragon vanished and erupted behind him, as he had expected. It was young and inexperienced, whereas he had slain its kind before.

Galiman dodged the snapping jaws and sprayed fire into its face, forcing it back. He drove both swords into the neck, yanked them free, then jabbed them in under the chin, both blades emerging through the top of the dragon's head.

He ripped the swords free and let the dragon drop. Two dragons down. A shame Kaden wasn't here. The grizzled warrior would have relished this fight.

More earth dragons were emerging across the city, scores of shambling corpses following. Many of them were clad in the armour of Candoness men-at-arms and knights. Others appeared to have once been fellow Dragon Knights. Some wore the colours of Kestreni soldiers.

This was an army the likes of which Galiman had never seen, not even in his worst nightmares.

There were more horrors to come.

Out of some of the buildings came black and red robed figures, hunched and twitching. Their faces were hidden by deep, voluminous hoods. Even over the tumult of the mayhem, Galiman could hear them speaking. He did not recognise any of the words, and they stung if he tried to listen.

When one of them turned in his direction, he recognised the symbol on its robes: the mark of the Ultimyr Academy.

This was a Fell-Speaker.

The Fell-Speaker hissed and began to chant more loudly and urgently, lifting his hands and waving them in insane patterns, like a mad puppet controlled by a madder puppeteer.

Galiman's eyes crossed and stung as they beheld the runes the Fell-Speaker traced in the air.

He was summoning a Demon.

Galiman charged, dodging the eldritch fire the Fell-Speaker hurled at him. A second blast caught his shoulder and he cried out as his spaulder fizzled away, his maimed flesh disintegrating.

He drove forwards and rammed his sword into the Fell-Speaker's chest. The robed figure emitted a strangled, hoarse gurgle, and fell back, convulsing.

Galiman extended his arm, intending to incinerate the corpse.

Too late.

It reared up, its eyes glowing red, its fingers extending into claws which tore through the skin. Teeth lengthening into dagger-sharp spikes as it lurched at him.

Galiman ran it through, but still it tried to tear out his throat. He ejected the shard in his right bracer and began to ram into the possessed corpse's face, again and again, blood spraying over them both.

With a rattling hiss, it dropped at last. Galiman bent, his hands on his knees.

'You must be the bravest man here.'

Galiman turned and trembled as a grey-scaled monster descended upon the plaza. It looked like it had once been a dragon, but unlike any dragon he had ever beheld. It also looked like it should be dead, and its eyes were alight with a sinister, evil green light.

'But bravery will not save you now, Dragon Knight.'

The air thrummed. Galiman's damaged armour ceased functioning and he dropped to his knees, barely able to take the weight. He strained to lift his head.

'Normally, I would make you a tempting offer, Dragon Knight Galiman. But time is short, and I have no need for your fealty.'

Galiman heard wheels turning. He managed to lift his head enough to see a wagon being drawn forth by more walking corpses. Standing upright within was a huge red stone, pulsing brightly with a fell red light. Where it went, corpses rose and dragged themselves after it. The surviving Fell-Speakers gathered around the horrendous abomination which had been Vylgranox.

'This one will make a useful soldier,' the possessed dragon announced. 'How goes the sacking of this miserable city?'

One of the Fell-Speakers responded in Ozkavosh. Galiman grimaced and shuddered.

'Excellent!' the creature grinned, bearing fangs stained with blood. 'Gather the broken bodies, the immobile flesh, and bring it here. First, we shall create an avatar for my ally, the Butcher, and then we shall mould this army into a force worthy of its master, a legion worthy of me.' The nightmare beast chuckled. 'Kill this one and bring him to the stone, then cast the protections. We will have need of it at Dragon Keep.'

Galiman fought, to no avail. The last thing he felt was a knife sliding into the back of his neck. The last thing he saw was the blood-red Direstone pulsing as its power grew, its will expanding, beckoning him closer even as the Fell-Speakers, whom Terrorblade had coaxed into serving his cause, dragged his dying body to the stone, to become yet another unwilling solider in the Battle for Creation.

Terrorblade let some survivors escape, including Galiman's squire. He wanted the Dragon Knights to know the fate which awaited them.

There was no pleasure in an easy conquest, and this would be the greatest and most absolute of all time.


'What is that sound?' Fymryn whispered.

Mirana strained her ears. 'I can hear… is that roaring?'

Davion jumped to his feet. Slyrak was agitated, and enraged. He could hear something in the Thunder which could only bode ill for them. He tried to ask what it was, expecting Slyrak to rebuke him.

He was therefore surprised when Slyrak answered.

'It is Terrorblade. He has summoned the avatars of those he has slain. He is no longer hunting. He is preparing for war—the last war, should he be victorious.'

Marci whistled and tapped his arm. She pointed into the distance. Mirana strained her eyes, following their gazes.

'Your majesty?' Donté inquired. 'What is it?'

'What is over there?' Mirana asked instead of answering.

'Knight's Hearth.' Eserren murmured. 'Caewyn?'

Caewyn squinted. For a few moments, she was silent. Then she gasped. 'I see fire!'

Mirana could see it too now, an orange glow in the distance, illuminating the vague outlines of ruined buildings and wrecked walls. A black pall was rising into the night sky, turning red where the blood-tainted light of the bleeding moon touched it.

Marci shivered. She reached out, holding Davion's hand and Mirana's in hers.

'This is it.' Purist thumped the butt of his hammer against the ground. 'The final battle is upon us.'

'I don't understand,' Aiushtha breathed. 'What has he done?'

'He's summoned an army of dragons.' Davion answered slowly, his voice low and grim. 'And he's destroyed Knight's Hearth. Every corpse he creates is another soldier for his army.'

'How...' Fymryn swallowed. 'How many?'

Davion looked to Eserren, who was staring wide-eyed at the burning city. 'At least fifty thousand,' she answered at last. 'Maybe more.'

'And how many Dragon Knights are there?' Donté whispered, sounding afraid for the first time since he had met them and offered his aid.

'Maybe six thousand across the world, one thousand five hundred in Dragon Keep itself.'

'Jac, Pierro, ride for the coast with all haste. Get the Legions here as soon as possible!' The two pangoliers jumped onto their mounts and sped away, heading in the rough direction of Dragon Keep, bound for the coast.

'How long will it take them to arrive?' Aiushtha wondered.

'Seven days.' Mirana whispered. 'Four if they have the wind.'

Marci whistled sharply and gestured rapidly, indicating the burning city and the direction in which Dragon Keep lay. They all figured out what she was saying. The Legions might arrive in a week, less if they were lucky.

Terrorblade could reach Dragon Keep in three days. His army of over twenty-thousand and gods only knew how many earth, chaos, sky and ionic dragons against maybe a few thousand Dragon Knights.

Luna grimaced. 'It looks like we're fucked.'

Davion nodded. 'Yes, Luna. It looks like we're fucked. Well and truly fucked.'