Almost two months later, I returned to Carnelian Peak wearing a talonlord's badge on my coat. The hemp robe had not lasted long, but the Linowan coat had proven itself as well suited to the climate. Udano was bringing up the rear and between us, almost a hundred legion auxiliaries.

Even having recruited from Linowan and Realm-aligned forces, the notional dragon we were part of was only fielding two of its theoretical four talons. If we weren't operating independently, we'd probably have been folded into another one already.

I tugged back the poncho hood that covered my head against the drizzling rain, so that the guards could recognise me. I'd been back and forth enough that I was reasonably recognisable to the understrength dragon of heavy infantry that were stationed here.

The gate pulled aside and let us into the inner perimeter. We were really spoilt for choice in where to camp – a considerable number of the three legions based from here were out and campaigning for control of Rokan-Jin and Talinin. Or whatever was going to be left of both nations and their eastern neighbour Ardaleth once this war was over. Nonetheless, we still made camp among what forces of the Thirty-Eighth Legion were present before I headed off into the city proper.

Hopefully there would be plenty of provisions available. I'm a good cook, but there are limits to what I can do when the ingredients are hard biscuit and whatever we can forage for as we march.

Twice more I was stopped – first at the city gates and then at the citadel. Security was tightening, and the freedom of those living here diminishing. It was a familiar refrain and I kept my hood down despite the rain. There was no use getting someone nervous, and I would rather not have a sentry loose an arrow into me. I'm tough, but I'm hardly invincible.

Inside I was provided with a towel to dry my head off and two servants more or less insisted on taking my poncho and boots to dry near a hearth along with a sizeable array of other officer's outerwear. I was provided too-large sandals in exchange and shuffled up the stairs to the map room to make my report.

To my surprise, Arada was present. He'd departed the city to supervise operations further east a week ago, and had not been expected back for most of a month. The push into Ardaleth was bogging down and the Wind Dancer had wanted to invigorate it.

"A report from the Drowned Rats, sir," Tepet Lisara informed the generals, alerting them to my presence.

A stray remark of mine had been taken out of context after we wound up trudging back through the first winter storm, and thus my little command had its name. Not exactly as glorious as those used by most of the line units, but that was more or less the point.

I gave the warm, dry and immaculately dressed aide a sour look and made my way to the table when Arada turned and beckoned me.

"You look like you're been having a good time," the old man observed briskly and apparently with complete sincerity. Then again, being hip-deep in mud and blood was more or less his heaven, as best I could tell. "What's it like out there?"

I reached out and picked some stray tokens from the edge of the table and started laying them out on the map. "Raiding around the western flank, but they seem to be diversionary, not a real push. The Bull's legions are mostly clinging to the northern forest belt, still cutting us off from the Linowan as best they can."

"They're not legions," Mallon corrected me.

"They're disturbingly close." I rubbed my forehead for a moment and then reached out to remove the marker for a fort. "Winglord Tepet Mokel and his entire command are gone. From what little was left of his stronghold, Nalla got inside and opened the door to raiders." One of the younger Solar Exalted who had joined the Bull, Nalla was of the Night Caste. They were known for stealth among other things, and the young man was maturing into one hell of a raiding captain. There had been most of two hundred and fifty medium infantry posted at the fort – they'd been killed, stripped and even buried with some degree of dignity.

That was our westernmost fort – the furthest extent from Carnelian Peak and well out of the line of advance towards Dramasine. The capital of Talinin had been occupied by the Bull for years now. If we could take it, that would essentially cut him off from Rokan-Jin and whatever remained of his supply lines across the Silver River.

I wasn't sure what exactly was left of that – I was almost sure that he'd depended on Samea's sorcery to move entire ships through the air – but he was staying in touch with the rest of his empire somehow, and it probably wasn't north through the Haltans and right the way around the entire Linowan nation.

"I followed the raiders trail north and east." I traced the line across the map with my finger and then marked an enemy base just north of the edge of the forests. "There's a training camp here, and looking at those troops is worryingly like a mirror. A thousand soldiers, more or less. And at least a fifth had Legion-issue armour. It doesn't take much guessing to know where they got them."

"How did you get in there?" asked Arada with an air of professional curiosity.

I shrugged. "They were relying on Haltans for an outer layer of sentries. I don't think they were even second-stringers though, more reputation than anything else. Udano and I spotted them for our archers and once they were out of the way, we got into the Icewalkers." I shook my head in mock-sadness. "I don't think they're used to deciduous forests. Anyway, we grabbed three of them to interrogate and cross-checked."

"So, you didn't have eyes on them yourself?" asked Lisara, bitingly.

"You can prove that by the fact I got back here," I told her without heat. There was no point rising to the jab – I'd had long practise dealing with her ilk. "Storming a camp that might have one of the Anathema in it, and ten times as many troops as I have… that'd be a poor decision."

"With the right troops and the right plan, perhaps." Mallon inserted himself calmingly into the conversation. "But it was more important that we hear about what is going on." He shook his head sadly. "Mokel was a good man."

I looked at the wider map and it told its own tale. Outside of the forests, the legions were winning more battles than they lost, with markers for victorious skirmishes marking a stable line between Carnelian Peak and Osak, the town that was our hub of operations against Ardaleth. But inside the forests it was a different matter – and both Dramasine and Fallen Lapis were in the heavily wooded valley carved by one of the Silver River's major tributaries.

"And it leaves us short of another two hundred good infantry." Lisara clasped her hands. "If the Bull is training his troops for battles in open ground then he must be preparing an offensive."

There were grudging nods around the table. I wasn't the only one who could read a map.

"We need to take the initiative then," Arada agreed.

"Concentrate our forces for a major push?" I suggested. Right now, we were dividing our forces to strike towards both the enemy-held cities. Focusing on one of them suddenly might let us crush half the Bull's forces in detail – or at least maul it as he extricated his troops.

"The loss of Samea should give us an advantage in sorcery." Lisara put her hands on her hips. "We ought to leverage that, some demonstration that without her, the Bull cannot protect his allies. If we alienate him from local support then his manpower and supplies will dry up."

I arched an eyebrow. "It cost us three sorcerers in Ironthorn Forest, and what… three more dead since?"

"Four," Arada updated that count grimly. "An arrow caught him in the eye when he was taking me south-east. The same archer almost hit me while I was falling to Earth." Well that explained why he wasn't in Osak right now. "Tepet Lisara suggests that pressure be applied to the Heptagram to release some of their masters for service. The Bull has other sorcerers besides Samea, but nothing to rival one of the Realm's best."

"I saw a demonstration by one of the Heptagram's senior instructors once," Lisara explained. "It was like nothing I have ever seen – easily as potent as the spells that the Blasphemous used against us. If we crush one of the cities, it will terrify the mortals."

I paused and then turned slowly towards her, using one finger to wipe at the inside of the ear nearest her. "Do I have water in my ear, or did I just hear you suggest that we call on the Heptagram… and then waste their talents smashing up women and children, rather than the Bull's fighting men or another of his key supporters? You know… targets that would do material harm to his cause, rather than giving him an atrocity he can use as a rallying cry?"

She shrugged insouciantly. "Our scouts cannot reliably find the Bull or his fellow Anathema. But we do know where Fallen Lapis is, and that it is as important a supply base for the enemy as this city is for us."

I looked to the generals and saw Mallon nodding at his aide's words. "If the Bull could retaliate, then I would not advise it. But striking at the cities would break the deadlock. And since Dramasine is in theory the capital of an allied nation, that would not be an ideal target."

"There are few words," I warned, "that echo more in the human heart than these: never again."

Arada gestured dismissively. "I will give the matter thought. It may be difficult to persuade the Heptagram to comply in any case. But taking one city would strike a blow at both morale and logistics. Mallon, I want you to draw up options to quietly shift the balance of the medium infantry dragons eastwards, replacing them with heavy infantry and auxiliaries. If we do this, I'll want a force we can push forwards to stop reinforcements moving in either direction."

He turned and looked towards me. "The Bull wants our attention in the west, so moving heavy foot that way should persuade him that he has that. And then…" He clapped his hands. "Then we will have made some real progress."

Lisara smiled proudly and I felt sick inside. Could I change nothing? In the history I remembered, Fallen Lapis had not broken the spirit of the Bull's forces. Far from it, the Solar had responded by striking not at our forward strongholds but deeply behind our lines. His raid on Greyfalls, more than a thousand miles south of Fallen Lapis, had threatened the Tepet supply lines and killed the very sorcerers they were depending on – as well as any desire by the rest of the Realm to offer further aid.

And with a first-hand look at how far Tepet Arada was willing to push the war, even the Linowan had been horrified.

"Make sure to draw up plans for the Bull hitting us with everything he has," I counselled the group bitterly. "Icewalkers esteem revenge highly, after all."

I turned and left the room, clearly no longer wanted.

Behind me I heard Lisara's voice, a veneer of sympathy in it: "- tired, of course. And she's very young…"

A chariot drawn by four blue horses flew over Carnelian Peak about a week and a half later, almost invisible against the clouds that were threatening yet more rain. The sentries called out in alarm, since it was coming from the north and soldiers rushed out of tents, gathering weapons and armour if they didn't have it with them already.

I hadn't been sent out again, although I'd really expected to once my troops were a little rested.

Instead, Arada had sent me a dozen recovering wounded, who lacked a talon to return to, and given me a month to train them up to my standards. I could almost deem it considerate of him, as he'd given the orders before he departed the city again to meet almost three thousand medium infantry, drawn from the Fifth and Thirty-Eighth Legions.

Almost. Because the real reason was almost certainly to make sure I didn't do anything quixotic, like trying to save Fallen Lapis. The training sessions were watched, if discreetly, and General Mallon made a point of inviting me to dinner with the senior officers every night.

I hadn't tried to take my talon out of the fortifications to do some actual training… if the guards had orders not to let me out, that would be an embarrassing scene. That rather limited the training to archery – not exactly my strength – and some endurance runs in full gear.

I also took what was described as 'childish joy' at having them dig some pit-traps, one of which was directly outside Tepet Lisara's quarters. I only regret that I wasn't there to see her fall into it the following morning. It was only about two-foot-deep, but it was long enough for her to do a full body sprawl into it and the night's rain on that street had drained into it.

The officer in question screamed instructions not to fire on the chariot as it descended, implying that she knew better than the rest of us. Despite my deep personal suspicions that she might be wrong, I checked my troops weren't nocking arrows and sent them scattering for cover just in case.

The chariot descended to the ground, revealing that the occupants were a pair of men wearing long furred robes over realm-style tunics… and a demon. I didn't recognise the breed, but it made my skin crawl.

I should point out, I don't actually hate demons, other than some individuals who have earned it. In fact, I believe they are people too.

Unfortunately, I also recognise that those of the Third Circle and Second Circle are component souls of the Primordials who the Exalted overthrew and imprisoned inside their king, who we had turned inside out to serve as a gaol for them.

And Demons of the First Circle are entire races spawned by the other Circles as servants, soldiers or as tools of the… let's call it a civilisation, that grew up within Malfeas after he went from the more or less unquestioned king of everything to an involuntary dungeon.

Oh, and ever since then, the Exalted have primarily interacted with them through indulging a literally God-given right to treat demons as slaves.

I don't trust demons worth a damn, because very few of them have the slightest reason to be trustworthy towards me, even if I personally had no hand in any of that.

Lisara ran to the chariot and bowed deeply to the occupants. "Welcome, my lords, to Carnelian Peak. May I hope that you are on the way to help General Tepet with the attack upon Fallen Lapis?"

One of the men threw back his head. "Thank you for your welcome, my lady, but I must correct one detail: we are returning from helping General Tepet."

Udano rested one hand on my shoulder in an unspoken plea for restraint. I reached up and patted his hand, assuring him that I wasn't going to do anything stupid.

"Permit us to host a banquet in your honour then." One could never accuse Tepet Lisara of not layering on flattery when given the opportunity. "My commander, Tepet Tilis Mallon, would be honoured to repay your aid with our hospitality, small as it may be in comparison."

"We would be glad to accept your offer," the other man agreed. The chariot and its horses vanished as they dismounted. I suspect that one reason that they had come here was that the spell would have ended at sunset, which was fast approaching. I had heard something of a spell like that.

The demon also disappeared, though I believe it had merely dematerialized rather than actually departing. A shame, I felt.

What was done was done, I thought. Fallen Lapis was not my first regret, even in this life. It would likely not be last. I dismissed my troops and climbed the walls of the city. A walk would do me good and at least I could spare my boots the mud.

I was on my second circuit of the city walls, Udano following me as if he was afraid that I might still do something reckless, when I was intercepted by Lisara. Hardly someone I wanted to see. "What do you want?"

"A general's baton," she responded sweetly. "Though that is not yours to bestow." Then her eyes narrowed. "You are invited to the dinner in honour of our guests."

I didn't bother to disguise my distaste for the idea. "Someone has to be on watch."

"And I would rather that you were, but it is the wish of our guests from the Heptagram that they meet you, and thus it is the general's wish that you attend the meal." An order therefore. "I understand that you are something of a protégé of my cousin, the magistrate?"

I frowned. "Elana?" She was the only magistrate I'd actually met. "We've met a few times."

Lisara nodded. "Do try not to emulate her. Boorishness does not become a daughter of one of the Great Houses. I'm sure that you can borrow better clothes if your wardrobe is lacking."

"Should I take that as an invitation to rifle through yours?"

There was a certain pleasure in seeing her eyes widen in concern. "I doubt they would fit you cousin," she said hastily and turned away. "The main hall after fifth bell. No one expects much save that you should try not to embarrass yourself."

"I'll try not to live down to your expectations!" I called after Lisara as she departed, perhaps in retreat or perhaps just to rob another dog for Mallon. It was hard to tell.

Udano stirred and then shook his head.

I gave him a look. "Something you want to share, big guy?"

"I know a tailor," he offered.

"Yeah, may as well. Thanks." I'd stick the army with the bill, I decided. It wasn't that I didn't have money, but my stipend was piling up back at home and all I had on hand was the meagre pay of an acting Legion auxiliary officer, which wasn't much. Officers were expected to be of quality, after all.

I was at the prescribed place at the specified time. With only a couple of hours to work with, I'd barely had time to use one of the bathhouses while the tailors quickly restitched a tunic to my size. I claimed a linen bedsheet and wore it as a toga over the tunic, which would hide most deficiencies. Togas weren't fashionable except among the most traditionalist houses, but I was Earth-aspected so no one would blink at any implication that I had such sympathies.

The hall was not what you might call festive – it had been used for several purposes since the legions' leadership moved in, most of them with little to do with formal dining. But what could be done on short notice was – tables covered by cloths that disguised the inevitable damage inflicted by men and women in armour, the standards of two Legions flanking the high table where General Mallon was seated between by the two guests.

Lisara was seated beyond one of the sorcerers while I was directed to the chair flanking the other. I'd arrived after the first drinks but before the soup course.

"Ah, the mysterious Tepet Demarol Alina." The man greeted me amicably and gestured to the cup of wine in front of my seat. "I guessed you'd want the white?"

"I'm not what you might call a fussy drinker." I sat down, sipped the wine and then set the cup down. I could hardly avoid social drinking, but I prefer a clear head. "And you, of course, are the mysterious Heptagram sorcerer. It's as if we're stock characters in a play."

He laughed easily. "I am remiss in my introductions. Ledaal Ordaal…. Yes, my parents were not feeling imaginative when I was born."

I grunted and then leaned aside to let a soldier squirm between us to deliver bowls of soup.

The general pushed his chair back and raised his cup. "I would like to propose a toast to our guests, who have today destroyed the enemy stronghold at Fallen Lapis. Long life and prosperity to you, gentlemen, and confusion to our foes."

He drank and it would have been unforgivably rude not to at least sip from my own cup. The taste had soured since I touched it a moment ago.

Ordaal noted my displeasure. "The wine does not please you?"

I set my cup down. "I have spent more time in the field lately than here. I suspect my view of the war differs somewhat from those who rarely leave Carnelian Peak. Not that I don't appreciate you coming all this way, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Mallon looked appalled but the sorcerer chuckled. "By Versino's ashes, I should introduce you to Siaka, someday! The two of you would get along like a house on fire."

"People shouting, screaming, running away?"

"Very possibly." He tilted his own cup and drained about half of it in a single swallow. "She is excellent company, when our paths converge in the city."

"I'm not sure why you liken me to her then." My mood was hardly congenial.

Ordaal leant back in his chair and examined me. "Because she doesn't care that I am a dreadful sorcerer, or any of my other bad habits. People who do not tread lightly about such matters are few and far between." He kept his voice low enough that most of those celebrating at the other tables would not overhear us.

I gave him a thoughtful look. "What exactly did you do to Fallen Lapis?"

"I do not recall seeing you at the Heptagram," he condescended, "But without being too technical…"

"I've a reasonable grip on Salinian theory," I interjected. "Whether it is sufficient for this or not, I couldn't say, but I'm not entirely unacquainted with sorcery."

He gave me a second look. "The spell I used is known as the Cantata of Empty Voices."

"I've read of it," I confirmed. "In the context of a spell no one was said to be able to use – the writer assumed a mis-transcription of some key part of its lore at some point. Perhaps to justify to themselves why they hadn't mastered it." The empty voices were of vaporous entities conjured by the spell, inspiring such grief and pain in those that heard them that they died, usually within the first few heartbeats.

From beyond the general, Ordaal's comrade raised his cup. "She has you there, Ordaal. You are well-read, Lady Alina."

I shrugged. "Since you could use it, evidently my source was incorrect." The spell was of the celestial circle, almost impossible for a Terrestrial Exalt to cast and many sources for powerful artifacts and spells were unreliable because they didn't recognise the distinction between different types of Exalted. After all, the Immaculate Philosophy claimed that Dragon-Blooded were the only Exalted.

The fact that Ordaal had cast the spell meant that either there was a third Terrestrial Exalt who had managed to cast celestial magic – besides the Scarlet Empress and Mnemon – or that he was a Sidereal Exalt. The latter seemed far more likely.

"I would hope that the depopulation of the city will be disruptive to the Realm's enemies," Ordaal continued smoothly.

"Will you be remaining with the army?" asked Lisara, leaning across the other sorcerer and (I am sure not incidentally) pressing his arm against her.

"Alas, no," the man told her. "Besides our obligations at the Heptagram, there is always some other disaster we are being called upon for. We may be able to return if the situation demands it, but we're to return to Greyfalls and then to the Realm with some haste."

"We're very glad for the support you've offered us already," Mallon assured them and glared at me, suggesting I should shut up.

"Perhaps Lady Alina could share her impressions of the Anathema she killed here," offered Ordaal, changing the subject smoothly. "Sorcerers among that breed can be exceptionally dangerous. She had two demons guarding her, I hear?"

"She seemed to be using them more as attack dogs, keeping the pair of Celestial Lions to protect her," I corrected him and dug into the soup as he processed that. When he opened his mouth, I added: "Gervesin and Florivet were the demons in question."

"Named demons," muttered Lisara discontentedly – I assume because she wasn't the centre of attention.

Ordaal's companion sighed exasperatedly. "And you recognised them – more than that, you defeated them both? I must wonder that you weren't offered a place at the Heptagram. You obviously have the propensity."

"I have a leave of absence, but I am enrolled at the Cloister of Wisdom."

"Yes yes." Ordaal waved his hand dismissively. "I heard about the business with Crane… I'd met the man in fact, some of our superiors would very much like to discuss his actions there when he is found."

The other man nodded. "One of the other errands that awaits us in fact. Training an Anathema directly at the heart of the Immaculate Order? The Mouth of Peace's office has been very clear that he's wanted alive, not dead. At least until he makes an account of himself."

Ordaal leant back in his chair. "Perhaps once the Cloister is done with you, you might wish to consider applying to the Heptagram," he suggested. "It is rare to attend two different academies, but you clearly have a great deal of potential… I take it from your attire that you aren't aiming at the Order as a career?"

I blinked. "I hadn't actually considered that that was a possibility." The Heptagram didn't just teach sorcery, they also did a lot of study of artifacts… the problem would be that pesky service I'd then owe the throne…

The next morning I was woken by a scream. I was on my feet and out of the tent, barefoot and wearing last night's tunic plus my bracers and smashfists. Jade artifacts are generally comfortable enough to wear even sleeping – and the time taken to don them could be time wasted in a crisis.

I was greeted with the face of Ledaal Ordaal – somewhat distressed.

Probably because the head it fronted was currently in mid-tumble towards the ground, separated from his neck.

I cursed, dived for cover and looked around for a cause.

It took me a moment to realise that there was an arrow embedded in the ground and it was larger and heavier than those used by the Realm's soldiers. More of a hunting arrow in the northern style.

Udano stormed out of the tent, still shoving his arms through his coat.

"Talon rouse!" I shouted. "Hostile archer, north east of us!"

Which wasn't the nearest wall, even worse.

Drums began to beat somewhere in the citadel, the first half of the call to repel an attack cutting off abruptly. Another arrow, maybe? I didn't see where the archer might be…

There was another scream, this time from one of my soldiers. She was being dragged upwards into the air, a wound forming on her throat. The blood didn't flow naturally, instead drawn into the air as if something was sucking upon it.

Udano roared and flung himself towards the soldier, clawing ineffectually at whatever was holding her. All he managed was to cause her some pain trying to tug her away from her captor.

I flowed after the Earth-aspect, dropping into the Moment of Daana'd by reflex. There was no time for a charm to see whatever was feeding on the soldier.

I drove my fist through the space her blood was being sucked into and there was a satisfactory impact. Suddenly no longer resisted, the woman was hauled off by Udano, landing on top of him and bleeding profusely, but now normally.

"Demon," I snapped in warning. "Get the talon moving to the gate."

And then I poured essence into my eyes.

The charioteer that had ridden with Ordaal yesterday was in view and fleeing. I went after him, ignoring anything else. There was no time for more orders and whatever else we were facing, a rogue demon inside the defences would be a disaster.

We crashed through the legionnaires trying to get to their posts, the demon throwing them out of his path without care for them – they couldn't even see it. I was barely kinder, threading past any direct collisions. They probably thought it was all my fault and one Scalelord wearing jade chainmail actually tried to restrain me.

"Enemy demon inside the walls!" I snarled at him, tearing myself free.

He blanched, being quick enough to understand immediately. Then again, given his rank he was probably fifty to a hundred years my senior. Acting auxiliary rank like mine was a general's whim, whereas he'd likely worked his way up through the ranks after graduating from the House of Bells or some similar school.

The demon didn't bother with the gate into the city, it scaled the wall – probably hoping that I'd be unable to follow. It was wrong and I left finger holes an inch deep in the marble-faced fortifications, climbing almost as fast as I could run.

It shrieked something nasty at me in a language I didn't know and which probably wasn't native to Creation before dropping off the other side of the wall and heading towards officer country – the better houses that they had occupied.

As with the royalty of the kingdom, I didn't know where the occupants were. Putting Rokan-Jin back together after this war was going to be a nightmare – someone else's, I hoped.

The demon rushed to a familiar door and screamed piteously. "Master, master! The Dragon-Blood has slain Ordaal!"

Shit. Shit! He wasn't Ordaal's summoning, gone rogue without a master. The demon had just seen a chance to sow trouble and taken it.

The pit outside Lisara's door was uncovered now, but only filled in with rough stones, not yet with gravel to stabilise it. The demon fell and I took the moment to grab hold of it. The damn thing leered at me from a second face, one on the back of its skull, for a brief moment before I smashed the face, the skull and – I assume – the other face on the front into a bloody mess against the door post.

It was no Gervesin or Florivet, to survive being brutalised like that.

Lisara yanked open the door. "Alina!? What the hell are you doing?" She was wearing no more than a bedsheet.

"Didn't you hear the drums?" I demanded, watching the essence of the demon fade from Creation. It would reform in Malfeas, hopefully with a headache. "The enemy are attacking!"

"What did it say about Ordaal!?" demanded the other sorcerer, bare-chested. He saw the dissipating essence and swore. "Why did you do that?"

"It was running rogue," I snapped. "Ordaal caught an arrow in the face just moments ago. He's dead and the arrow crossed half the city to do it. We're under attack. So much for breaking their spirit, Lisara!"

"That's impossible! There's no one within fifty miles of the city!"

I shook my head. "Idiot."

The sorcerer reached out to grab hold of me, but a cherubic essence construct materialised and caught his attention, spitting out words at a high rate. The words were Old Realm but made no sense – codes, I guess.

He paled as the spell concluded and the Infallible Messenger dissipated. "She's right. I need to go."

"Wait!" Lisara seized his arm. "We need your help!"

He shook her off. "I've been recalled. Immediately, no discretion."

"Someone moves quickly," I noted and turned away. "Get some armour on you, Lisara."

"The wheels of heaven do occasionally." The sorcerer raised his hand in salute, face lined. "I'll avenge Ordaal, one day… if I get the chance. But today I am commanded. And not by someone I can refuse."

I left them, Lisara trying to argue over the impossibility of the man leaving the city if we were under attack. I'm not sure why she thought that; since he was a sorcerer, I could think of a half-dozen spells that gave him a better chance to escape than the rest of us had.

There were no orders from the citadel as far as I could tell as I headed back towards the gates. Reaching the walls, I ascended them and looked down – their height plus the mountain giving me a good look at what was coming.

An arrow slashed at me and I snapped my arm up, catching it on the woven jade of my bracer. The wooden arrow shattered as it hit the armour. The same size as before. Ordaal must have been oblivious to the attack that killed him until it struck his flesh.

Outside the embankment that screened the camp, I could see troops marching at a steady pace up the pass towards the bank. A thousand at least, with more behind. And marching ahead of them, a bulky shape far larger than a man.

Pasiap's Mighty Fist.

This was exactly the sort of thing that the warstrider was made for, and we had only one here at the gates.

Worse, there weren't many more than a thousand soldiers in Carnelian Peak. The main garrison, and various odds and ends like my own command. If the other gates were also under attack…

Well, if the Bull had managed to get more than one army close to us then we were in even more serious trouble than I thought.

I dropped off the wall and ran for the gate. Udano had the talon arrayed just below the crest of the embankment and they were waiting for the attack to reach arrow range – although given the line of shields along the front of the incoming formation, we'd be doing well to do more than nibble at them.

"Orders?" asked the next most senior officer – a scalelord, which was worrying. Was there no one more senior. There was at least another talon here, twice the heavy infantry that would have been this Exalt's command.

So, absent orders to the contrary, I was in charge. The one thing I could not do was show hesitation.

"Get everyone but my talon back inside the city walls," I ordered and looked up at the warstrider, which was stirring to life. "That means you too!" I yelled up at the pilot. "We'll slow them down long enough for you to get inside. If there's anything too valuable to be left out here, get it now but you won't have long."

"Is it true that the sorcerers are dead?" asked the scalelord under his breath.

"One dead, the other recalled. Too valuable to risk," I corrected. "This one's on the legions."

"I have two Exalted fanglords," he told me more loudly. "We'll stand with you, sir. If there's an anathema out there, you'll need Exalted soldiers."

Me, Udano and those three. Well, no point arguing. "Good enough."

Turning to my own men I yanked one of my scale-lieutenants aside. "Turok, I need your scale as runners. The other two gates, the citadel and the pigeon cotes. I need to know what's going on at the first three, the last one we need to make sure we can let the forts know how this turns out. Which means not wasting birds with telling them about an attack they can't help with. Some idiot might waste them now."

The warstrider rose to its feet, then stepped forwards and gave the section of wood blocking the break in the embankment a little push, wedging it further, before the towering war machine loped backwards, obedient to the orders I'd given.

"It might have been able to outmanoeuvre the enemy 'strider," the scalelord suggested in a neutral voice. "Pasiap's Mighty Fist is a sluggish beast… and unlucky, to boot."

"On an open field," I agreed with a nod. "But this isn't the ground for it. They'll use it to force a breach, then pull it back to make another while we're securing the first. The only good news is that I don't see its essence cannon – chances are good that it was damaged when they captured the accursed thing."

"Steady on." The scalelord gave me a startled look. "That was one of our machines, until lately."

"I mean that literally. Given its history."

"Oh. Well, I hope you're right, given who is using it."

The archers started to loose arrows as the oncoming attack force reached a range where there was a decent chance of threading one through or over the enemy's shields.

We didn't have that many arrows, and while there were tens or hundreds of thousands bundled in wagons and store tents, we hardly had time to replenish our quivers now.

"They're expecting us to cover the first breach," I warned, watching the warstrider march closer, shielding part of the attack with its bulk. A second echelon of troops was behind the first, spreading out with their own bows to provide cover from the flanks. "They might try the gate itself. The minute they do, they'll realise how thin we are here."

"That'll be us then?"

I nodded and raised my voice enough for the nearest archers to hear. "Relay down the line – as soon as the warstrider's close enough to try a breach, back off and run for the city gate. I'll be cutting loose with my anima banner and I can't screen you from its effects."

"Do you mean you'll be searing the battlefield?" asked the scalelord. "I know the technique; I can reinforce yours."

Normally an Exalted's anima extended only a few inches from their body. Several yards if they were pushing themselves very hard. But Dragon-Blooded had long ago developed charms that let them extend the area of effect – and the destructive flux of their anima – across hundreds of yards. Dragon-Seared Battlefield was the most commonly used variant, because it was simplest and 'only' required essence control in the fourth mortal plateau.

"Fire?" I asked hopefully, but he shook his head. A shame, Fire-aspects always had the most destructive anima flux, as if to compensate for them lacking the more subtle knacks of the other four aspects. Then again, most of them seemed to feel that we were compensating for being weaker in that regard. "I'll be using the Dragon Vortex," I continued, citing the next step up from the Dragon-Seared Battlefield – currently the best I could use. "But you can reinforce it the same way."

"They'll have an exalt in the warstrider," I noted, "Might be one of the Anathema, but these must be crack troops, moved in on short notice for this, so it's almost certain that one or more of the Anathema will be with us, if not in the 'strider. Once I raise the vortex, they'll be least impaired; and they'll come right at us. Killing them is our job. Do that and then fall back to the walls."

The dragon vortex wouldn't do the supplies behind us any good, but we were well past the point of that being a consideration.

"Here it comes!"

I looked up and saw Pasiap's Mighty Fist break into a brisk jog that was about as fast as it could move. It was still faster than a man on foot would be, and it was heading right for the gates.

"…I over-estimated them." It wasn't going to stop, unless the man or woman inside was far defter in piloting the colossus than I thought they were. Which meant our own warstrider would have been useful after all. Amateurs! Always more dangerous than professionals!

My veterans needed no reminder of my earlier orders and turned and fled immediately, dragging with them any of the less experienced who thought to take 'just one more shot'.

"Udano!" I called. "We're on the warstrider – Scalelord, you and your men will have to hold the gateway until we're done!"

There would be an interval between the gate breaking and my men being far enough away. If I had to create the vortex while they were still in its radius, there was no way for me to protect them from its effects – at least with my current essence control.

I was still castigating myself for not foreseeing this sort of recklessness by the enemy when Pasiap's Mighty Fist hit the barrier.

Wood, stone and sandbags burst in every direction and a blaze of golden light illuminated the scattering debris, the three soldiers ducking to cover either side of the gate and myself and Udano caught in the open. The towering Earth-aspect swept forward and punched one large splinter away before it could hit us.

I guess I knew where the Solar was now – if there was only one.

Somewhat off balance from the impact, the colossus slowed, looking around as if expecting to be attacked by soldiers hidden by the wall. I charged at it, shouting to draw the pilot's attention.

It must have worked, because the warstrider swept one fist around, dropping into a half crouch so that the massive fist would be low enough to hit me.

I crossed my arms before my face and let the fist hit them, relying on the bracers and my own durability to absorb the impact, letting it push me back.

Udano bounded past me and delivered a swinging blow with paired fists against the face-plate, making it ring like a bell.

The warstrider brought its fist back only to pause, looking at where it clearly expected that I – or my corpse would be.

It took the occupant, probably disoriented by Udano's attack, a critical moment to realise that I was clinging to the fist, and before it could react to that discovery, I was scrambling up the extended limb towards the shoulders.

With a cry of alarm, the colossus tried to both shake me off and smash Udano away as he jammed a broken piece of stone into one knee and tried to disable the joint.

My grip was too good, but my friend had to jump away, shaking his hands – I guess to get feeling back into them after hitting the faceplate.

From the shoulders I saw the three Dragon-Blooded with us holding the gates – three was enough to hold off the mortal soldiers, at least for now. They all had jade-steel armour and two were wielding reaver daiklaves, heavy chopping blades that laughed at conventional armour.

I turned, saw that my talon was likely far enough away and moved further along the shoulder, clinging to the back of the warstrider's shrunken neck as I reached deep inside me. Calling for the earth that was my aspect. The dragonlines that underlaid creation were only the largest and most vital veins of essence. Threading from them like a river's tributaries were a near infinity of lesser channels, smaller and smaller, until they reached every part of Creation.

My essence interlaced itself into those channels, not to tap into that primal flow of energy, but to redirect it, using my own essence as a guiding light.

The blaze of sunlight streaming from Pasiap's Mighty Fist was cut through with ivory as the ground began to shake beneath us.

Like a swelling storm, my anima swept out. The scalelord's own reached out, a glittering blue sheen joining mine and bringing with it a whirlwind that only added to the destruction.

The light of the Solar's anima was a pinprick in the eye of the storm, drowned out by elemental rage.

And the soldiers beyond the wall were exposed to it, with no shelter but our embankment, which was itself being torn apart by the vortex, fragments of earth and stone flying away and tearing into their ranks.

"Stop this!" a woman's voice screamed from inside the warstrider. She whirled, trying to disgorge me. That failed.

Then she reached up and tore a massive sword from its back. I say sword, more like a sword-shaped slab of iron.

I grabbed for it, missed, thought I'd have a second attempt as she tried to close.

Instead the solar hurled the ton-weight weapon as if it was nothing but a throwing dagger.

The Scalelord was cut in twain, unsuspecting, even his armour not proof against that sort of impact. I'd never even found out his name. And now there were only two Dragon-Blooded trying to hold the gates.

The whirlwind faded, though the earth still shook around us. I seized the helm above the faceplate and dug my fingers into it, looking for a weakness. But they found no purchase.

With a scream of frustration, I slapped my hand down on top of the helmet and poured my essence into it. If this was an experienced warstrider pilot then this would never work, but if the woman inside was a novice…

Udano seized one leg and tried to heave the colossus over. With the ground shaking, he might have had a chance but the warstrider's arm swept down and back. When it struck him there was a mighty thump and he went flying, landing thirty feet away, carving a gouge into the mud with his back.

There is a crafter's trick to dealing with the maintenance of a complex artifact, one that lets you disassemble it. Against something as large and complex as a warstrider, the charm has a limited effect. And of course, whoever has attuned an artifact can stop you. Their connection will be much closer.

But they have to know what you are doing.

The cockpit of Pasiap's Mighty Fist exploded outwards, even individual components separating from those around it. The startled occupant was flung face first from the warstrider. It seems that she was as inexperienced as I thought.

Or perhaps the curse laid on the warstrider had simply struck again.

She was on her feet almost instantly, facing me as I hopped down from the warstrider, which quietly fell onto its back without any one in control (or any intact controls) to keep it upright.

Tall, obvious northern colouring. She wore hunting leathers and I guessed she would have worn a breastplate over them, to judge by the creasing of the leathers. Probably she'd had to remove it to get into the warstrider.

She had a daiklave with her though, black jade in a double-edged style. It had probably been resting in the cockpit beside her as she had to snatch it up from the ground as she rose.

"Crimson Antler." I recognised her. I had met her more than once, in that other life. She looked younger now.

"Dragon-Blood," she spat.

"My name," I told her quietly, "Is Tepet Demarol Alina. If you want to run away, I'll let you."

I doubted she'd believe me, and if she did so just to re-join her men outside then I'd not be giving her a second chance. But a show of confidence might sway her. She was, to my recollection, somewhat cautious.

Instead she flung herself at me, slashing with the daiklave. Ferocious blows that could have cut me in half as easily as the much larger warstrider-sized sword had cut the scale-lord apart.

I blocked, slapping the artifact blade aside with my gauntleted hands, careful to catch the flat of it. It was sharp and there was no certainty that it might not pierce the relatively thin plating of the gauntlet. Not an orichalcum weapon, I noted. Most likely the Bull and his circle armed themselves at the expense of fallen Dragon-Blooded.

I guess they must not have found the tombs of any dead Solars. That was the usual way that the reborn Solars had found weapons of their associated magical materials. To appease the ghosts of those they brought down, the Dragon-Blooded had followed the Usurpation by laying their victims to rest, following as best they could the last recorded wishes for such arrangements. Most had been along the lines of intricate tombs, honouring the great deeds of the occupants and concealing the bodily remains and the priceless panoplies behind layer after layer of traps.

Of course, then the Dragon-Blooded had done their best to bury and hide the tombs, relocating entire cities to do so if necessary. There was no point allowing them to be used as a focal point for solar loyalists.

With that as the case, few now knew where such tombs might be found… but newly exalted Solars might well recall what their predecessors had intended, giving them a head start in finding and opening the tombs. As a result, many Solar Exalt gave themselves a leg up by plundering their past life's final resting place – or that of any Solar who's grave they could find. But the North was the most sparsely populated Direction of the Threshold, so it had the fewest tombs.

Even a Solar couldn't keep the pace up forever and when Crimson Antler's pace slowed fractionally, I returned the favour, delivering a barrage of punches at her face, shoulders and ribs. But she moved the sword with uncanny grace to intercept every such attack, forcing me to abort them before they could connect.

It seemed that she had developed at least some of the Solar's charms for parrying. Not for nothing had they been esteemed for, among other things, being peerless duellists and champions.

Alright, I could work with this. The vortex was still shaking the ground around us, tearing into the supply tents and stacked gear that the embankment was to protect. I was destroying a fortune in military supplies… but just by surviving I was wounding and maiming every non-Dragon-Blood present.

And Crimson Antler wasn't immune to the effects of the vortex. I took a page from Arada's textbook and jumped up onto one of the unstable stacks of supplies… spare spear shafts, I think. The thatched roof set above them to keep off the worst of the rain had collapsed. "Come at me!" I challenged her.

Perhaps my recollection was faulty or perhaps her previous caution was something she'd learned between now and my meeting her. It had been twenty… no, closer to thirty years from now. Lots of time for someone to change.

Either way, she was up with me and we danced across the wreckage, adding more damage as we fought across the tent poles, collapsed shelters and up a stack of crates. Mostly she was going at me, though every time her pace slackened, I pressed her hard, not giving her a chance to recover her essence or even her breath.

When we reached the far end of the stack, I threw myself off it towards the outer rampart, aware that the damage caused by my vortex was raking across the outer wall. That had been too close. I could see that Udano was back up, fighting those that had trickled past the two Dragon-Blooded still holding the gate. Between the shaking and their valour, it was a mere handful who joined those that had scrambled over the crumbling embankment.

Crimson Antler vaulted high in the sky, up and over me, crashing down between me and the gateway. She exhaled, sweat running down her forehead over red tattoos that marked her brow. Antlers, I guess. "You won't get away, city-burner."

I laughed. Hells, even she was blaming me. "I could have at any time," I pointed out. "You can see what I'm doing now."

"You, one of the other Tepet… What does it matter? You're all alike."

I ran at her, feigning rage and this time when she parried me, I seized the daiklave in both hands, pinning it.

"Look at Rokan-Jin! Look at Talinin! This is the war you've brought here. Get off your damn pedestal, icewalker. Towns shattered, fields burned, and the people who might have repaired them have all been conscripted! Your precious Bull is no better than us!"

She wrenched the blade free of me, drawing blood from the palm of my hand. "You know nothing about him!"

"I could tell you how many of his children and grandchildren have died in his wars," I shot back. Mostly because we'd traded such stories when we were drunk and maudlin, years from now. "I could tell you the tale of how he walked out, the true story not the myth that your tribes have built up around him."

And then I rushed close and slammed one fist against her jaw.

"And all of it for nothing!"

She spun around and planted face first on the ground.

I panted. Lungs burning, a stitch in my side. Must have pushed… pushed…

I started to bend over to see if she was dead, paused at the stabbing pain. When I looked down, the daiklave was buried in my side.

Oh, this was going to hurt worse before it got better.

Cursing my short arms, I grasped the hilt and dragged it free. Fresh blood gushed until I forced it to close. A patch-job. Dammit, I missed carrying a hearthstone that would have healed up the internal damage in a few hours.

The daiklave was heavy in my hands. It wasn't attuned to me, so I was feeling its full weight.

Crimson Antler rolled over onto her back, tried to stand.

Without ceremony, I put the daiklave down – point first, through her gut and then her spine. She stared up at me, eyes wide. "It… wasn't… supposed…"

I rested my weight on the hilt, for lack of anything else rather than intent to make her suffer. It twisted inside her.

Blood spilled from her mouth as she fought to breathe, to speak. "We're… not… monsters…"

I found some strength and wrenched the blade out, red blood spilling from the black jade.

Her anima died as I cleaved her head from her shoulder. A moment later the dragon vortex faded too as I dropped to my knees, the daiklave dropping from my hand.

I wasn't going to faint. I wasn't going to faint. I didn't have time to be weak.

Getting one foot back under me was a herculean task. The other was harder. And then I staggered towards the gate.

Was the ground still shaking?

No, I guess that was just me.

Then hands caught me and I felt my arms draped around armoured shoulders.

"Come on, talonlord."

That voice was familiar. "Turok?"

"Yeah." He and another soldier started carrying me away from the gate. "We're back."

"Citadel? Gates?" What was that other thing I'd asked them to check…? Oh, yes. "Birds?"

"Pigeons, yes. We have them." He swallowed. "There's an anathema in the citadel, we couldn't risk it. Karah took her scale back to our tents, grabbed your kit and everything we can carry."

"Leaving?"

"East gate's open," he reported. "Someone took about two hundred of the heavy foot that way. The north gate's got icewalkers holding it open, I don't know if they had to fight for it."

I tried to nod, but my head felt like it would fall off. Then I heard bows. "Who…"

"Covering Udano," Turok told me. "We got some carts at the south gate, everyone's rallying them there."

"G-good." I coughed. Ow. "Who is in charge?"

As blackness took me, it sounded as if he said that I was. But that couldn't be right… could it?