Chapter Sixteen

All the Wrong Words

Callardis hated New Stonehall.

It was not just the oppressiveness of the place. Being underground, surrounded by so much stone, on every side as well as overhead, was bad enough. It was the seemingly interminable waiting which was getting to him.

It was certainly bothering Shabarra.

They were not prisoners, or so Galanius said. But they were confined to the palace alone and went everywhere under heavy guard. Callardis and his fellow Sun Guard were not permitted to carry weapons here either, which annoyed Callardis especially. He would have felt better with his mighty labrys in hand, the spoils of his victory against a wayward Dragon Knight many years ago. He and his fellows were well trained in hand-to-hand combat, yet still, they preferred to fight with actual weapons.

Shabarra spent much of his days pacing his luxuriously appointed quarters, seething, muttering and cursing his enemies. He frequently took out his frustrations on the palace slaves when he could, the fact that nobody seemed to care, even when he left them bloody and near broken, did help to lift his mood.

That this was far from the fitting behaviour of a good ruler was always far from Callardis' mind. As far as he was concerned, it was Shabarra's right to do as he pleased to those beneath him. His appointment was not only ordained by divinity, it had been claimed and earned with strength and wit. He was the true ruler of the Imperium, and that was all that mattered to him.

Yet even with ample distractions of various kinds, Shabarra could not be distracted from the fact that he was still stuck here, and that despite the shows of strength Emperor Galanius had displayed, Stonehall seemed slow to act on its promises.

This was why, once again, Callardis walked with Shabarra and Uldros towards the war chamber. Tarius had not present when Shabarra had stormed into their quarters, demanding that they accompany him. Callardius had some inkling of where he was though.

Sure enough, as they rounded yet another corner, he caught sight of the man, leaning on a balustrade, smiling widely. Opposite him was a young woman, wearing simple robes, though they were dyed blue—not a slave, but rather the employed servant of a noble. She was also smiling, and blushing, her eyes twinkling.

Callardis suppressed a grimace. He'd seen Tarius in the company of this woman before. He'd taken a liking to her. He had delusions of courting her, if his recitation of poetry to her was anything to go by.

As far as Callardis was concerned, a Sun Guard's first, foremost and only duty was to the God Emperor, not his own whims or desires. And besides that, the woman was of Stonehall. Callardis still mistrusted her and her kith and kin.

'Tarius!' he barked.

Tarius spun round and straightened, snapping to attention. 'Commander. God-Emperor,' he bowed deeply.

'Fall in,' Callardis ordered. 'Now.'

Tarius should have obeyed the order instantly. Instead, he paused to spare the woman a brief, reassuring smile, then fell into step behind Shabarra. Uldros glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. Tarius subtly shrugged.

Callardis considered reprimanding the man. A stern warning first, he decided. No wandering off without permission. Tarius was still loyal, and hopefully always would be. If he wanted to make the most of things by wooing a local, that was his business, so long as he remembered where his true loyalties lay. If not, Callardis would correct such errors, demonstrating the price of folly on Tarius' sweetheart first.

Galanius was in the chamber, as Callardis had expected. Legion Commander Tresdin was absent though, as was the messenger golem which acted as Kashurra's proxy. He could not always attend these meetings, he could not risk compromising himself or Shabarra. But the Invoker's golem was here and representing him. Also present in the chamber was Tyber, Tresdin's adjutant, who spared the new arrivals a curt nod.

The lead guard announced them as they entered the war chamber. Galanius did not seem at all surprised to see them, and he welcomed them in with an oily, yellow-toothed smile and jovial tones. 'It is good to see you again, God Emperor! I hope you are in fine spirits today. We were just discussing some of the more trivial aspects of the coming war, nothing to be concerned about.'

'It is a concern though, Emperor Galanius.' Shabarra stated tersely. 'All the time you spend dithering is time the Misrulian harlot and the usurper-Princess can use to strengthen their forces.'

Tyber scowled, but Galanius did not seem at all offended. 'The time will avail them naught, God-Emperor, of that I can assure you. The Imperium may seem to have the means to thwart us in open battle, but they will not defeat us.'

Callardis found the man's confidence unsettling. It was not because he spoke so easily of killing Callardis' countrymen, it was simply because he was so confident. It was as if he knew of some advantage they did not, and he probably did. He did not expect the man to be entirely forthcoming about his every plan. War was a tricky business, and loose lips were a grave threat to any plan.

'We do have some good news for you,' Galanius inclined his head towards the Invoker's avatar. 'Tell him of your recent victory, Invoker.'

The Invoker regarded Shabarra coolly via his proxy. 'By the grace of Mene, my forces have destroyed the Omniknights and blinded the Omniscience. We have deprived the Imperium of a potent ally.'

'And?' Shabarra demanded. 'What next? When do we march upon the Imperium?'

'Soon, your Divine Majesty,' Galanius was trying to sound soothing, as if he was trying to placate an angry child on the cusp of a tantrum, though his voice was too oily and smug for it. 'The Invoker is bringing more allies into the fold: the legendary Bloodseekers, the deadly servants of the Flayed Twins, have sworn to aid our cause, and Mene can now grant Her gifts to more of Her faithful.

Do you see, God Emperor? Those who would aid the Imperium fall, whilst those who would fight it only grow stronger!' he held up a clenched fist. 'When the time comes, our forces will make the ground tremble, and their soldiers shiver with fear. Our arrows will blot out the sun long before Mene brings forth the Dark Moon.'

His rhetoric sounded good, yet it did not seem to please Shabarra. Callardis could understand that. Words were not actions, and fanciful speech was little more than hyperbole, unless proven otherwise. He would rather see the arrows of Stonehall's forces blot out the sun than merely hear about it.

'Come closer, and I shall explain.' Galanius nodded to Tyber, who adjusted the stone map. It shifted, showing them an area Calladris knew only from his studies. It was a swampy, treacherous region to the south of Stonehall. A single Stonehall banner, this one bearing what appeared to be a twin-headed horned serpent, stood in the middle of it, close to another banner. The sigil on the other banner bore what appeared to be the head of a monstrous dog.

'As I am sure you know, many of our vhoul warriors turned on us at the Battle of Roseleaf, spurred to betrayal by the duplicitous Rix.' Galanius indicated the wolf-like symbol on the second banner. 'Obviously, we cannot allow such treachery to go unpunished, nor can we leave an enemy on our flank. This is why I sent the Stonehall Elite, led by Belasanno, to eliminate Rix.

Rix is attempting to join forces with Magnus, the leader of the Magnocerai of Mt Joerlak. If he succeeds, we will be hard-pressed to put an end to him, and he will be able to strike more effectively at us, maybe even face us in battle. Such a delay would be unacceptable.

But that will not come to pass. Belasanno's latest report indicates that he is close to destroying Rix. I had intended for him to capture the traitor, but with the greater war to consider, I have ordered him to simply kill Rix and be done with the matter then and there. Without Rix, the remaining vhoul traitors will scatter. Leaderless, they will no longer be a threat to us, and we can continue to prepare unimpeded.'

'I take it that this Belasanno has the greater force.' Shabarra assumed.

'Not in the conventional sense.' Galanius smiled. 'But fear not. If the phalanxes are Stonehall's spear and shield, and the Bronze Legion is Stonehall's sword, then the Stonehall Elite is our dagger—the efficient and deadly blade poised to strike when least expected, and always fatally. I assure you, Belasanno will prevail, and his unconventional approach to warfare will be of great help to us in the war against the Imperium.

In the meantime, we will continue to gather our forces, and summon the forces of our allies. There, matters also proceed well. The newly reclaimed Kingdom of Slom is proving receptive to our offers, especially since we helped Banehallow acquire the means to retake his throne, and with the Omniknights destroyed, the way to removing another potential ally of the Imperium is open to us.'

'There has been another development in that regard,' the Invoker announced. 'Master Lannik has made me aware of another recent arrival from the north. One which may work to our benefit, if we can cultivate their resentments.'

'Perhaps Kashurra can help us with them.' Tyber suggested.

'I do not believe that would be prudent,' the Invoker stated. 'That may risk exposure. I believe that it will not take much to sway this individual, or their followers, to our cause. We need only remind them who is allied with Princess Mirana, offer them some boon, and they will gladly join us.'

'Good!' Galanius beamed, baring his awful teeth. 'You see, my friends? Every day, we grow stronger, and the Imperium grows ever weaker. When the time comes, our crusade shall be glorious and absolute.'

Shabarra nodded, perhaps placated for the time being. 'I am eager for it be so.'

Galanius waited until Shabarra and his guards had left, and the door was shut, before ordering Tyber to leave the room. The man was loyal, but it was better not to take risks. With him gone, it was just Galanius and the Invoker left in the room.

'How much longer must I endure that buffoon?' Galanius growled.

'He will have his uses,' the Invoker said. 'You must be patient, your Imperial Majesty. Mene sees his value, such as it is, and thus he must remain a part of our plans.'

'And what about Kashurra? Can we really trust that eel of a man? He switches sides with sickening ease. He could betray us all on a whim.'

'He could. But he will not.'

Galanius frowned at the map as it shifted, forming into the shape of a familiar sunburst: the city of Rasolir, the heart of the Helio Imperium. Their ultimate objective. The final obstacle he longed to crush. 'You are certain of that, Invoker?'

'Without his aid, we would not have come so far. Without him, none of this could have come to pass as it has. He had no need to support us, but he has, at great personal risk. He is disgusted by the likes of Shabarra and his forefathers. He wishes for justice to prevail, and he knows that Mene can fulfil his wishes.'

'As She can for us all.' Galanius intoned.

'Take heart, Emperor. Shabarra is no more than a tool. Enduring him is just as much a trial as was casting down the false idols. It will not be easy, but it will make you stronger, and show your dedication to Mene.'

Galanius smiled and reached for a goblet of wine. 'And when he has served his purpose, he too shall share the Imperium's fate. As Mene desires.'

'Yes,' the Invoker's expression did not change at all, but Galanius could hear the fervour in his voice. 'As Mene desires.'

Not wanting to completely dismay a promising soldier, Callardis had simply reprimanded Tarius for being absent without leave. Tarius had promised to ask permission next time he wanted to seek out his woman, and Callardius had reluctantly decided to allow this. He was ruthless and pragmatic, but he was not made of stone. Not completely.

Now he was alone in Shabarra's quarters, watching the man pace once again. Tarius and Uldros were standing guard outside.

Shabarra snatched up a goblet, fumed and seethed, then flung it at the wall. Callardis did not even blink.

Eventually, Shabarra forced himself to calm down and poured himself a drink, an aniseed wine the locals favoured, using a less dented goblet. He did not bother to offer Callardis anything. 'Galanius is a fool.'

'I agree, Divine Majesty. Yet he is a useful fool.'

'Mm. I suppose so.' Shabarra allowed, draining his goblet. 'What I would not give for some proper wine, instead of this piss.' He poured himself another draught anyway. 'We have need of his armies. But otherwise, I loathe him. Why anybody would follow such a pompous slug is beyond me.'

Callardis had made sure that nobody might be listening in as Shabarra had started to pace and chunter, just in case. Uldros and Tarius were there to turn away potential eavesdroppers as much as they were to protect the God Emperor. It was part of his training, as well as something he'd learned dealing with the likes of Janulus and Kashurra.

'Still, he will be useful. Him and his armies.' Shabarra drained the goblet again. Callardis had to admit that he was relieved when Shabarra neglected to refill it this time. 'And when the traitors and my bitch of a niece have been destroyed, he shall share in their fate, him, his lackeys, and that upstart goddess of theirs.'

Callardis nodded firmly, glad to see his Emperor so resolved. 'It shall be as you decree, God Emperor.'

Davion's head was pounding.

He plucked a malformed black scale from his skin. He was about to cast it aside, then thought better of it and slipped it into a pouch. He couldn't afford to give away what he was. Not here. Not now.

Thanks to the friendship Rylai and Auroth shared with Ulfsaar, who seemed to be highly respected amongst his kind, they had been allowed into the encampment.

But they had not been allowed to leave.

Slyrak resented that. As he kept reminding Davion, they were running out of time.

What do you expect me to do, Slyrak? Carve my way through an army of ursa? They're not our enemies.

'They will likely die if we do not leave this place, Davion. When the Madness takes hold again, friend and foe will mean nothing to you.'

You're telling me what I already know. It's not a solution.

'I would suggest talking to Rylai. She seems to know these ursa best.'

Davion turned his head, and regretted it as it pounded more intensely. Outside, he could hear the huffing laughter of ursa cubs and Rylai's giggles, interspersed by the soft thumps of snowball impacts.

Sighing, he left the tent they had set up the day before and stepped into the snow. A snowball hit his shoulder and a couple of ursa cubs, about half his height despite their youth, ran past, laughing as they went. Rylai and Auroth gave chase, followed, to Davion's surprise, by Caewyn and Eserren.

Eserren spotted him and came to a halt, dropping her snowball, her scar-warped grin fading. Trails of water from the snow melting in her dark hair ran down her face. 'I know that look. Slyrak?'

'He says we can't stay here, Eserren.'

'A shame.' Eserren sighed. 'Caewyn was winning this time.' She watched wistfully as Caewyn ducked a snowball sent her way, giggling as she ran for cover.

'I didn't know she liked this sort of thing.' Davion realised. He felt like he'd known Eserren and Caewyn for years, yet in truth, he'd known them only for a few months. There were some things time had no sway over.

'Growing up amongst the Dragon Knights, wanting to be one of them, Caewyn had so few opportunities to be a child. It was… difficult. To be both mother and mentor to her.'

'You've taught her well.'

'Thank you, but that's not what I meant.' Eserren said. 'I always wanted her to be safe, to have a good life, yet at the same time, I was training her to fight and slay dragons, monsters, bandits.' Eserren shook her head. 'Don't mind me, Davion. What's wrong with Slyrak now?'

'He's struggling. I can feel it. Hear it.'

Eserren paused, waiting until a pair of ursa warriors loped past. 'How long do you think we have?'

'Not long enough.'

'All right. Try to keep calm. I'll tackle Rylai and Auroth.'

Davion stayed put, trying to let the cold air soothe him as Eserren hurried off to find the others.

The ursa clans had gathered in a deep bowl formed by the mountain walls, with only two ways in or out. Tents fashioned from animal hides of various kinds were everywhere, seemingly without order or boundaries. In truth, the clans had set up their temporary abodes in some form of order, the clusters were marked with pennants, hide banners and guarded by warriors. Some mingled gladly, swapping tales and passing around horns full of pungent alcohol, others glowered at their neighbours with mistrust and even hatred plain in their eyes, clutching their weapons tightly.

In the middle of the encampment was a tall slender stone, swirling patterns, runes and pictograms carved into it by generations of ursa. Rylai had said that it was sacred to the ursa, a place where their ancestor spirits gathered in times of crisis.

'Sir Davion,'

Davion turned to see Ymir plodding towards him, his gear clinking and clanking. 'Ymir. Out for a stroll?'

'Not much else for me or my lads to do. It's this or listen to the ursa argue or that diplomat prattle.'

Davion shook his head at the mention of the diplomat. Karhos was not only here to sway the ursa to Stonehall's cause, he was also trying to convert them. He was freshly converted to Mene, and full of fervour for his new goddess. According to Rylai, if the ursa were not sworn to avoid shedding blood here, they would have killed him already.

As it was, Davion was wondering how much longer the ursa would tolerate the man. They respected warriors, not politicians. Davion was also irritated by the man.

'This war,' Ymir murmured. 'Is it true what Karhos says? That there is to be war between Stonehall and the Imperium.'

Davion sighed. 'Stonehall seems determined to have it.'

'Not the Imperium?'

'The Princess doesn't want a war.'

'If gossip is to be believed, you know her well. Very well.'

Davion chuckled wryly. 'That's just gossip, Ymir. Princess Mirana and I are just friends.'

'Huh. From what I've heard, she'd be just your type.'

'A little while ago, yes. Things have changed.'

'You can say that again,' Ymir muttered. 'Half of the world's dragons have gone crazy, attacking everything unlucky enough to be in the way.'

Slyrak winced. Davion winced. Somewhere inside his breeches, a malformed scale came loose and slid into his left boot.

'What?' Ymir frowned. 'Surely that's a good thing. It means more work for you and your lot.'

'Yeah, well, times have changed.' Davion murmured, wriggling his foot to try and move the scale somewhere less painful. 'And nobody wants half the world's dragons on the warpath.'

'Hmm.' Ymir scratched his chin. 'Dragon Knights are neutral in war, aren't they?'

'They were before.' Davion shrugged. 'Not now though.'

'Then you're throwing in your lot with the Imperium?'

'My reasons are personal.' Davion said. 'As for Eserren… I suppose she has personal reasons too, but she thinks that siding with the Imperium is the right thing to do,' he turned to Ymir. 'What about you?'

Ymir shrugged. 'I'm a mercenary.'

'And if Stonehall pays you more, you'll be content to let thousands be smothered in darkness?'

'Never said that.' Ymir scratched his ear. 'Just need to consider my options. And what about the Imperium? If they win will the world be blinded by sunlight?'

'Mirana doesn't want that. She just wants peace.'

'Peace isn't all that profitable for mercenaries,' Ymir mused. 'Still… the Imperium is rich… I shall think on what you have said, Sir Davion.'

'I don't want to end up fighting you, Ymir.'

'It would be a good fight though.' Ymir grunted. 'I'm going to speak with my mercenaries. Watch out for that Stonehall wind-mouth.'

Davion turned away as Ymir trudged off in search of his comrades. He really did hope that Ymir did not side with Stonehall, if only to deprive them off more skilled warriors. Rumours had been flying around the encampment, troubling rumours. Some even murmured that the Bloodmist Army had joined Stonehall. If so, then the Imperium was going to need to gather its own allies, and soon.

Mirana was smart. She would be doing just that, and more. She would have capable advisors and fighters by her side. People like this Kashurra she had spoken of, Luna, Marci.

Thinking of Marci sent a pang of longing, yearning, through him. How he wished to be with her once more, to hold her in his arms, to see her lovely smile again in something other than memory.

Davion winced and gritted his teeth. More scales cut through his skin and snagged on his gambeson. His blood felt like it was burning. He felt like he was smouldering.

Davion peered around, made sure he was unwatched, then scooped up a large clump of snow with both hands and pressed it into his face. It bought a moment of sweet, cool relief. Yet it melted against his hot flesh all too quickly.

'Davion?'

Davion turned at the sound of Caewyn's mellow voice. 'Any luck?'

'Auroth has spoken with the ursa chieftains. They have agreed to let us go, but only if you speak at the Moot.'

'What? Why do they want me to speak?'

'Well… you are pretty famous. As a renowned warrior, your word carries weight with them.'

'Eserren is a better knight.'

Caewyn smiled at that. 'She's not as famous though, but that's just as well since she doesn't want fame.'

Davion winced again. Another scale had come loose. 'If it gets us out of here, then I'll speak at the Moot. Maybe we can talk the ursa into helping the Imperium.'

'That would be nice.' Caewyn beckoned for him to follow. A sonorous horn-call sounded. The ursa filed out of their tents, heading towards the great pillar at the centre of the encampment. Caewyn must have felt tiny amongst them, yet she ambled along at relative ease, masking her worry for Davion behind her cheery smile.

Already present at the stone were the ursa chieftains, Ulfsaar among them. Auroth, Rylai, Bram and Eserren were also there. Auroth was among the ursa, the others were to the side.

Davion failed to suppress a grimace as he beheld the Stonehall delegation. The soldiers standing around their emissary wore dark crimson armour under their fur-lined cloaks, sculpted to resemble toned muscle and etched with silver. They had replaced their customary sandals with heavy leather boots, the better to cope with the climate.

Marci had told Davion that the Sun Guard of the Imperium wore red and gold armour. These men were probably also elite warriors. Maybe not royal guard, but nevertheless assigned to protect important figures due to their skill and devotion. They kept their sword-hands on the hilts of their blades, round shields bearing the sigil of Stonehall clasped in their other hands.

Amidst them was the emissary, a stocky, bearded man whose finery was hidden under his cloak.

Davion didn't manage to keep the scowl off his face. His blood started to warm in his veins, sizzling through his limbs. Karhos had been busy telling the ursa about the Imperium, but only that which he deemed likely to send them into battle against it. But of Stonehall, he spoke only of its supposed virtues.

Davion knew he was biased. But Karhos still irritated him. Angered him.

'Calm yourself, Davion. I cannot keep the power suppressed much longer. You must remain calm or we are both lost.'

Davion took in a deep breath, resisted the urge to bury his head in the snow, and stepped forwards. He took some comfort in knowing that Karhos was a fool.

'Sir Davion,' Ulfsaar beckoned him closer. 'The Chieftains have asked you to speak. You have earned your fame in battle, and we have been told that current events concern you closely.'

'The Dragon Knights are supposed to be neutral.' Karhos declared. 'Are you and your brothers so easily forsaking your vows?'

Davion tamped down his annoyance. 'Technically, I am no longer part of the Order. I intend to swear my sword to a new cause.'

'And why should we trust the word of a man who so casually forsakes his brethren, his purpose and his oaths?'

'He does no such thing.' Eserren was scowling at Karhos. 'And we do not forsake our neutrality lightly. The Order is under new leadership, and we will no longer remain blind to those in need or the causes which are not our own.'

'Who are you to speak so boldly, woman?'

'She's the new leader of the Dragon Knight Order: Knight-Commander Eserren.' Caewyn stated, her tone somewhat irritated, but also proud. 'And for those wondering, she earned her command through battle.'

'Thank you, Caewyn.' Eserren nodded to her.

'You,' Karhos eyed Caewyn critically. 'You are one of the Coriel'tauvi. How come you here, serving enemies of your goddess?'

There was some growling from amongst the ursa. Some of them disliked this talk of Mene.

'I am not Coriel'tauvi.' Caewyn answered simply. 'And Mene is not my goddess. She never will be.'

Karhos fumed subtly. 'See here, great ursa Chieftains, the duplicity of these so called "knights"! They abandon their oaths at the drop of a coin, no doubt lured from their sacred vows of neutrality by the Imperium's offers of gold. Their corruption runs so deep, they have even denied this one the divine calling in her blood!'

'Watch your tongue, Karhos!' Davion snapped. His chest felt hot as his heart thumped faster. 'I know Eserren. Money has no sway over her. She fights for what is right.'

'She fights for what she believes is right. That does not make it so.' Karhos argued smoothly.

'The same can be said of you and your people, Emissary.'

'No, Davion.' Karhos smiled smugly and shook his head. 'Our cause is right. Mene was denied Her rightful place by Her wilful daughter. And She has shown us that the time has come to cast down the corrupt and wicked people of the Helio Imperium.'

'You would say that. But I know people from the Imperium. Good people. Including the Princess.'

'And how many of my people do you know, Sir Davion?' Karhos inquired, a smug grin spreading across his face. He knew the answer. Davion knew nobody from Stonehall.

'I suppose this is the part where you tell me how your people are the best in the world?'

Karhos shrugged. 'Why bother? It sounds as though you and I have very different opinions of virtue. Though I should expect no less, Sir Davion.'

Davion scowled. He could feel his blood surging, his pulse thumping. With it came the clamour, the discordance that was the Thunder.

'Davion. Be calm. Say what you need to say and walk away.'

Davion took in a deep breath and began to speak, before Eserren could snap at Karhos. 'You asked me to speak. And I will,' he spared Karhos a grim stare. 'Without interruptions.'

'By all means, Sir Davion. Say what you must. I'm sure it will be worth hearing.'

The more the man spoke, the more Davion wanted to punch him. Oh, if only Marci was here. She would have embedded Karhos in the ground.

'I know that the Imperium is far from perfect. I know they've wronged the ursa. But that was because of the whims of another Emperor, one who has been deposed. The true heir does not want war with the ursa, or anybody. She only wishes to protect her people.

Mene does not want peace. She wants the world to worship Her, or perish. The Bleeding Moon is a sign of Her return,' he indicated the faintly visible red corona of the moon. 'And She will demand of you unswerving loyalty, to cast aside your ancestor spirits. If you refuse, she will kill you. You may have the strength to withstand her soldiers, but not the Dark Moon.

The Imperium is not perfect, and they have fought you. But under Mirana's rule, it will leave you be if that is what you wish, whether you aid the Imperium or simply remain neutral.'

'And if we wish to fight the Imperium?' a heavily scarred ursa, with several ruined Imperial helms strung across his frame, demanded croakily.

'Is that a rhetorical question?' Bram inquired.

'I don't want my clan to be forced to worship some petty moon goddess,' another ursa stated. 'If the Imperium will agree to leave us be, maybe we should help them.'

'Too many see us as bloodthirsty beasts! I'd sooner stay out of this. Let the primates kill each other as they will.'

'My friends,' Karhos held up his hands. 'Sir Davion does make a better speaker than I expected, but that does not change the fact that he speaks only falsehoods.

Mene is returning, but She desires justice, and it is the duty of all good folk to aid Her cause, and She shall reward the deserving.

But the people of the Imperium are dishonourable heathens. They may tolerate you so long as you are useful in their wars, but sooner or later they shall turn on you. They will see you only as beasts, and they will seek to enslave or destroy you, as they do for all things they deem lesser than their flawed selves.

I would, of course, expect Davion to be in favour of the Imperium. He's made no secret of being on good terms with Princess Mirana, a woman known to offer herself up so readily if it suits her needs.' He gave Davion a knowing sneer.

Davion's hands twitched, balling into fists.

'Davion. Walk away. Now.'

'Yes, Davion.' Auroth's voice joined Slyrak's in the Thunder. 'Do what Slyrak says. Turn away. Calm yourself. Let me and Rylai continue this argument.'

'You don't know what you're talking about.' Davion growled, ignoring Auroth and Slyrak.

'Don't I?' Karhos smiled. 'The Princess is very persuasive, is she not? Yet another of her unholy gifts from the Ursurper: that same power over the minds of others.'

'Shut up.'

'Davion! This does not help us! You know the truth, as does this fool. Arguing will not change anything.' Slyrak was growing desperate, and Davion was aware of his heart pounding like a war-drum, sound blaring in his ears. 'Walk away. For both our sakes.'

'Karhos, you make a poor diplomat.' Eserren growled. 'You do yourself and your embassy no credit by casting such foolish notions and petty insults at your enemies.'

'I'm sure you're very grateful to your newfound allies for giving you the opportunity and means to take power, to have what you've always wanted.' Karhos sneered. 'Of course it benefits the Princess to have your loyalty, to have you in her debt.'

'Hey!' Caewyn snapped. 'How dare—'

'There's no point, Caewyn,' Bram interrupted. 'He knows the truth. He's just baiting us.'

Karhos raised an eyebrow. 'You have a modicum of intelligence, boy, but let your elders speak.'

'You're wasting your time, Karhos, as well as ours.'

'Old habits are hard to discard. But not all of my old habits will go to waste here. You see…' he paused to shrug off his cloak, revealing a sculpted ornate breastplate, 'I am well aware of the fact that the ursa respect action rather than words. And I know that you, Sir Davion, are a man of action.'

Davion raised his eyebrows. 'You're challenging me to a duel?'

'A contest. Here, in the sight of the ancestor spirits, we shall prove ourselves with deed instead of debate.'

Davion shook his head. 'I didn't come here to fight.' He could tell that Slyrak wanted him to avoid battle if possible.

'Then how will you prove that the ursa should aid your beloved Imperium?'

'Davion is not well.' Eserren stated. 'But I am in good health, and willing to fight.'

'I am sure that you would make for a capable opponent.' Karhos allowed. 'But Davion came here to speak for his chosen side. He should fight for it, should he not?'

'You can make do with me. I too support the Imperium.' Eserren thumped the butt of her bardiche into the snow. 'Choose your weapon, and let us fight.'

Karhos actually looked wary. 'No offence, Lady Eserren, but with one eye missing, you would be at a disadvantage.'

'I can manage perfectly well. This eye was always better.'

'The challenge has been issued,' Ulfsaar stated. 'It was offered to Davion. If he refuses, he will be treated as the loser.'

'I'm sorry, Eserren. That's how it is with the ursa.' Rylai explained. 'Neither challenger nor challenged can select a champion, they have to fight themselves.'

'But of course,' Karhos sneered, 'if the valiant Sir Davion is too ill to fight for the Imperium… well, I would have relished the chance to fight you. But if the Imperium isn't worth fighting for, hale or not…'

Davion seethed. Oh, how he longed to wipe the smug grin off this idiot's face, to meet his blade, to dash it from his hands, to cut him down and rip his guts from…

Davion shuddered. Where in the hells had that come from?

'Davion, don't do this,' Slyrak rumbled. 'A fight might provoke the others. What remains of Vahdrak longs for blood.'

I can't just walk away and let this moron drag the ursa into war against our friends.

'Davion, this is foolish. Don't take this chance.'

Davion sighed. 'Fine, Karhos. You want a fight, you can have one.'

'Davion!' Slyrak and Auroth both chided. Auroth was glaring daggers at him.

Vahdrak's remains can have blood, just a little. We owe him, don't we?

'You are not beholden to madness, Davion! Be reasonable!'

I am being reasonable, Slyrak. I won't kill him, just humiliate him. We might not get another opportunity to aid the Imperium here. I have to do this, for Marci and Mirana.

Slyrak grumbled. 'You are a stubborn fool, Davion. But your conviction is admirable. Very well. But make the fight quick, kill him swiftly if you must and do not linger, I will try to keep the power under control.'

Davion held out his hand. 'Bram, bring me my sword.'

Karhos grinned. 'I've been spoiling for a fight since we arrived here. Thank you for obliging me.'

'Don't thank me for this, Karhos.'

Karhos held out his arms and snapped his fingers. Two of his guards hurried off and returned swiftly, one bearing a spear and a plumed helmet, the other carrying a round metal shield bearing a distinctive sigil: a snake with the head of a bull.

'Do you know this symbol, Sir Davion?'

Davion shook his head. Auroth answered for him. 'It's the Bullsnake. The sigil of the Bronze Legion, Stonehall's most elite unit.'

'Yes,' Karhos grinned proudly as the shield was strapped his arm. 'Before I took to politics, I was a member of that distinguished force. I fought alongside Legion Commander Tresdin herself at Kemehos, the Serpent Cliffs and Roseleaf.'

Bram cleared his throat. Davion spared him a grateful nod and accepted his sword and helm.

'I see you favour the greatsword.' Karhos noted. 'Not a weapon my people generally use. Crude, but reasonably effective, a weapon that relies more on strength and its own weight than finesse and skill. Not like the humble yet efficient spear, the weapon which has slain many an enemy of Stonehall, a weapon with which I am still skilled.' He deftly twirled his weapon for emphasis. 'I practice every day.'

Davion wasn't so sure about the assessment of his weapon. Every weapon demanded skill, even the "crude" ones. A weapon in the hands of an unskilled fighter was their opponent's weapon. Karhos' spear might have been easier to use, but Davion was well practised with his weapon too. And many nations had hired mercenaries armed with two-handed swords to neutralise groups of spearmen. One good swing, and Davion would be able to cut the head off Karhos' weapon.

As for the shield, it would be an issue, but it was metal, it was large. It would be heavy. Karhos' shield arm would tire quickly, and a few hard strikes would deaden that arm too.

Not a hard fight, he thought. His armour would protect him well enough from the spear.

Davion pulled on his helm. 'I'm ready, Karhos.'

Karhos' grin spread as his helm was placed upon his head and fastened into place. 'Then let us begin.'

The ursa cleared a circular space around the stone pillar. Rylai had stressed that Davion should, under no circumstances, strike the pillar. That would mean instant death at the hands of some very angry ursa.

Maybe he could make Karhos hit it. Him suffering death by frenzied ursa might be amusing.

'Be careful, Davion. Keep yourself calm and your mind clear. Do not lose yourself to bloodlust.'

Got it, Slyrak. Leave this to me.

Karhos twirled his spear and pushed his shield forwards. Davion raised his sword high for what appeared to be a cleaving strike.

Karhos smiled, but instead of advancing, he began to pace around the perimeter, putting the pillar between himself and Davion.

Davion knew this play. He'd used it himself. Karhos was trying to force him to attack, to act rashly.

Instead of doing what Karhos wanted, Davion mirrored him, slowly revolving around the arena. The two of them orbited the pillar, eyes fixed on each other, weapons at the ready.

Then Karhos acted. Davion saw him brace his feet, just for a moment, then he pushed off his back foot and ran forwards, the sun glinting off his gilded armour.

Davion advanced, then held his ground, ready. When Karhos attacked, expecting Davion to perform an overhead strike, he would feint, then cut his weapon apart. Karhos would be left with only his shield and sword, and the advantage of reach would be Davion's alone.

And Karhos, despite knowing the advantages Davion's dragon-scale armour would provide, had insisted that Davion wear his full armour.

His confidence should have been troubling.

Karhos dug in his heels and, rather than lunge forwards, held fast. Davion, already swinging his sword, was suddenly at a tremendous disadvantage. He was no longer the one committing the clever feint, Karhos was. He already had. Davion was swinging for a target which should have been closer.

Davion quickly attempted to retract his heavy sword, to protect himself. He could still break that spear.

But Karhos was fully aware of the weaknesses of his weapon too. Instead of attacking, risking breaking his spear against Davion's armour or exposing it to a severing blow, he leapt forwards, ducking his head behind his shield.

Davion tried to side-step, but left himself unbalanced in doing so. When Karhos slammed into him, steel clanging off dragon-scale and tempered alloy, Davion lost his footing and stumbled.

Karhos deftly twisted, jabbing at Davion's neck. Though his flesh was covered by black mail, the point of that spear might still break through the metal rings.

Davion rolled away and quickly regaining his feet, swiping at Karhos to force him to back off.

Karhos instead raised his shield. Davion's sword struck it with a loud clang, and rebounded.

Startled, Davion nearly lost his footing again. He now realised that he had made a terrible mistake, something worse than an amateur's mistake.

It was a fool's mistake: he had underestimated his opponent and overestimated his own abilities.

Karhos had not asked him to discard his advantages because he had some of his own. He was obviously much stronger and tougher than he looked. Perhaps he had never really stopped being a soldier. And his equipment was clearly something other than mundane, especially that shield.

Immediately, the tip of the spear was being thrust at Davion's eye.

Davion did not want to find out the hard way if it could slip through his visor. He recoiled, stepped to the side, and tried to strike Karhos again, going for his legs this time. Many fighters, whether they had shields or not, tended to neglect defending their legs.

Karhos was not an amateur though. He was, as he had boasted, a veteran soldier.

Rather than jump back or even attempt to block the strike, he closed in, moving in so close Davion couldn't strike him effectively, running to hit him from behind.

Davion turned the attack into a spin, trying to catch him from behind, driving him to keep running, the sword rose as he did so.

Karhos ducked and spun. Davion hissed as he felt the tip of the spear jab into the mail behind his knee. A few rings broke, and the spearhead sliced through leather and the woolen hosen beneath, slicing Davion's skin.

A shallow wound, barely more than a tiny cut, but this and Davion's own foolishness was infuriating.

Before Davion could counter-attack, Karhos quickly jumped up and backed off, putting himself out of reach. His steel breastplate might not have been as strong as Davion's dragon-scale cuirass, but it was lighter. His plumed open helm might have been much less protective than Davion's sallet, but it gave him much better visibility. Unlike other sallets, the visor on Davion's helm covered the lower half of his face. But generally, the more protective a helm, the less its wearer could see.

Davion advanced, making it look like he was about to strike Karhos' shoulder, but actually going for his leg.

Karhos backed off again, and Davion realised that he was trying to draw him into striking the pillar. Davion stopped, then started to circle again. Maybe if he could get Karhos to attack…

Karhos did attack, jabbing low, aiming for Davion's groin. If he could slip the spear past Davion's faulds, he could strike at the joints around Davion's pelvis.

Davion responded quickly, slashing at the spear even as he stepped back. The tip of the spear scraped across his faulds as his blade pushed it aside. The sword had bitten into the shaft, yet the spear remained intact.

Karhos' shield rose to deflect the counter-attack even as he moved to get out of range.

Irritated, Davion struck the shield with a mighty blow, rocking Karhos back onto his heels. Karhos had managed to draw back his spear again, and Davion yelped as he felt it stab into his calf.

He struck again, and again, finally knocking Karhos onto his back. Before he could finish the fight, Karhos rolled aside, rose to a crouch, and jabbed at Davion again.

Davion cried out as the spear stabbed into his thigh this time, a deeper wound than the previous one.

He switched tactics, electing to half-sword. When the spear next came at him, he caught it with his sword's cross-guard and used it to wrench Karhos forwards. Karhos tried to protect himself with the shield, but Davion's shoulder slipped past and he slammed it into Karhos, ramming the pommel of his sword into the man's breastplate at the same time.

Karhos yelped and stumbled backwards, blood running his smashed nose, his breastplate dented. As he recoiled, Davion swung his sword, the blade trailing flames, and finally cut the head from the spear.

Karhos, rather than panic or give up, simply back-stepped out of range and calmly drew his blade.

Davion now solely possessed the advantage of reach. It would still be hard to get past that shield, though Karhos would now have a much harder time striking him. And Davion did know that the blades favoured by Stonehall soldiers, the xiphos and the harpe, were less effective against armour like his.

Karhos kept his distance. Every time Davion closed in, he simply backed away, eyes narrowed and watchful. Davion at first assumed he was trying to figure out new tactics, or that he was reluctant to risk closing in again. Yet something seemed off. Karhos still appeared confident, even smug.

Blood was trickling down Davion's legs, dripping into the snow. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, his breathing loud inside the confines of his helm. He could feel sweat running down his spine and gathering under his armpits, despite the cold air and the snow. His wounds stung and ached.

Davion stumbled.

For a moment, he failed to understand what had happened.

It took him another second to realise that he was losing the feeling in his injured leg. Surely had hadn't lost that much blood so quickly? No, if he had he would have felt faint and dizzy. The wounds were not that deep, though Karhos had come perilously close to severing a major artery with his last hit.

Sweat beaded across Davion's forehead, dripping into his eyes. His mouth was dry, his skin felt clammy, he was starting to shake. His heart pounded, matching the thumping in his ears, and his eyes blurred.

He did not remember falling to his knees. He was only aware of it when his hands began to feel cold, when he heard Caewyn frantically calling to him.

'The ancestors don't favour this one!' one of the watching ursa declared. 'He is weak!'

'Stonehall's champion has the favour of the wise ones!'

'Davion! Davion, get up! Defend yourself!' That was coming from Rylai.

Davion struggled to his feet, trying to hold onto his sword with hands quickly going numb.

Eserren knew that Karhos was cheating.

She had seen Davion fight many times. He was in his prime, fit, strong, veteran of many fights against dragon, beast and humanoid. He should not have been flagging so soon, not with the minor wounds he had sustained.

Karhos was cheating. He had to be.

'Eserren, if he dies…' Auroth shuddered. 'We all die.'

Even if she hadn't said that, Eserren couldn't stand by and let Karhos kill her friend.

Davion swung his sword. His rubbery arms betrayed him and the sword fell to the ground, the snow hissing into steam around it. He collapsed to his knees, feeling like he was about to vomit, his insides squirming.

Karhos advanced, pointing his sword at Davion's throat. 'I expected better from you, Davion the Dragon Knight.'

Davion raised his head, seeing the point of the blade as it moved towards his throat.

Marci had been stabbed in the throat. Davion somehow doubted he would survive like she had.

Something kicked up a wave of snow, slamming into Karhos. He was flung backwards six feet, landing heavily in the snow, his sword falling from his hand.

The ursa roared with disapproval as Eserren stepped in front of Davion and brought her bardiche round, advancing on Karhos, ready to strike a fatal blow.

Karhos scrambled back, reaching for his weapon.

'You dare to interfere?' one of the ursa chiefs roared, breaking through the crowds and advancing on Eserren with a huge club in his paw.

'He's cheating!' Eserren retorted, not taking her eyes off Karhos. 'A couple of minor wounds like those should not have brought Davion low.'

'Eserren!' Rylai yelled. One of Karhos' bodyguards had broken into the arena and was charging at her with his sword held high.

Rylai's warning was not needed. The man fell heavily, screaming, dropping his weapon and clutching at his knee, where a crossbow bolt protruded. Caewyn had already reloaded by the time she reached Davion's side. Auroth hurried in as the ursa clamoured, leaving Rylai and Ulfsaar to try and keep them under control. She found the tip of Karhos' spear and picked it up gingerly, brows furrowed as she sniffed at it.

Her eyes widened with alarm. 'Poison. The craven wretch used poison!'

Eserren snarled, her face twisting into a rictus of rage. 'You have no honour, Karhos.'

Karhos staggered to his feet. 'What I have is righteousness, Dragon Knight Eserren. I am a patriot, and I am faithful to Mene. Tell me, Dragon Knight, when the cause is just, do you not do everything in your power to ensure its success?'

Eserren shook her head. 'Not this. Davion fought you fairly, and you repay his honour with treachery and deceit!'

Karhos narrowed his eyes. 'And that is why you will fail, Eserren. You are unwilling to do what must be done, all because of your antiquated sense of honour.'

'That won't stop me from cleaving your head from your neck.'

'You'd execute me so wantonly? That doesn't seem very knightly to me.'

'You'd deserve it. But luckily for you, I don't kill in cold blood. You're going to sheath that sword and tell the ursa what you've done, then forfeit this challenge. If you don't, we will duel, after we've made sure that your blade is clean, and we will fight to the death.'

The ursa, those who understood, were conflicted. Karhos had clearly fought with skill, but the use of poison was a divisive tactic. Some of them understood his decision, many did not approve.

'Eserren!' Auroth called. 'We need to get Davion out of here!'

'Move him back to the tent,' Eserren ordered. 'Caewyn and I will watch your backs.'

'No, Eserren, you don't understand!'

Eserren only turned her head when Davion unleashed an anguished cry which turned into a guttural roar.

The poison Karhos had used was swift to act, and it was lethal. His body had tried to resist it. Tried, and failed. And had Davion been an ordinary man, he would have died in another few minutes, slowly fading into a slumber from which he would never awaken.

But Davion possessed the blood of Slyrak, and the souls of several Eldwurms, and the urge to survive was no longer limited by human constraints.

Before he or Slyrak could try to stop it, the scales surged through his skin. Blood sprayed into the snow, turning it to steam, as the riot of red, black, silver, white and orange scales merged with Davion's armour and covered his body from head-to-toe. His body began to swell to twice its size. His teeth lengthened into meat-ripping fangs, razor-sharp claws sprang from his fingertips.

Everybody stared at him in horrow, some starting to back away, others reaching for weapons. Eserren was yelling for everybody to get back, even as she stood her ground with her weapon at the ready.

Wings snapped from his back, but they were not just the red wings of an ember dragon. One wing was a red dragon's wing, but two more, black, bearing red evil eyes, fluttered in the wind. A lashing tail thrashed against the ground.

Davion tried to keep control, to remember who he was, to return to his human form.

'Fight it, Davion! Fight! If you lose control—'

But it was too late.

The Thunder blazed and boomed in his head, the chaotic cacophony too powerful to resist, to ignore. It surged through him, filling his being.

He could no longer think. There was no room for logic and reason and memory.

There was only one thing alone within him now: Madness.

Before Eserren's eye, a ravening monster rose where Davion had fallen. It stood like a man, but the similarities ended there alone.

Still, she had to try. Eserren braced herself, her sabatons digging into the snow-covered ground. She raised her weapon. She knew what the heavy axehead was capable of, against beast and man and dragon alike. She would try to bring Davion back, and strike only to deter him.

'Davion!' Eserren yelled. 'You have to stop this! You have to regain control!'

What had been Davion eyed her with angry, hungry eyes. It snarled, hooked fangs extending.

'I don't think Davion can hear you,' Caewyn raised her crossbow. One of her flasher bolts was loaded, its bulbous head aimed at the beast's snout.

'Stay back,' Eserren told her. She did not doubt her daughter's ability in combat, she just wanted her to keep as safe as she could. 'Try to herd him away from the ursa.'

Not all of the ursa were fleeing though. Ulfsaar and a group of his warriors were making their way forwards warily, weapons in their paws. Ymir was running up with an axe in hand.

The monstrous creature beat his mismatched wings and roared, flames spilling from his jaws. Eserren gritted her teeth.

One of Karhos men yelled a war-cry and charged forwards. Perhaps he was brave. He was most certainly foolish. Whatever the case, he paid dearly for it.

Without warning, Davion snatched him up, his inhumanly strong grip partially crushing the foolish soldier, and jammed his upper torso between his teeth. With a short scream and a dreadful tearing of metal and flesh, Davion ripped the man in half, swallowing the half in his maw and languidly throwing the legs aside.

A piercing screech filled the air. Eserren ducked back as Auroth, now in her draconic form, swooped an inch above her head and collided with what had been Davion. The beast dug in his claws, skidding back a few meters but not going down.

He responded with a ferocious punch, smashing Auroth to the ground. Before he could strike again, a block of ice slammed into him, rocking him back on his heels. Auroth scrambled to her feet and took wing again, flying around to try and strike from behind.

The hybrid's eyes blazed red. Auroth screeched and extended her talons.

A cloud of black smoke filled the air, and the beast vanished. Auroth attempted to pull up, but before she could beat her wings, the monster exploded back into reality below her, grabbing one of her feet and swinging her round, flattening several tents and anybody inside with her body, before flinging her at the nearest cliff wall. Auroth, her side smeared with gore and trailing canvas, hide and furs, beat her wings furiously, managing to slow her speed enough to soften the blow. It still left her sprawled on the ground, screeching weakly, her ribs likely cracked by the impact.

'Eserren!' Bram yelled the warning in time. Eserren realised that Davion was turning on her now. He spun round, unleashing a blaze of fire from his jaws.

'Caewyn! Behind me!' Eserren barely had time to shout. She forced whatever power out of her armour she could, creating a whooshing wall of air between herself, Caewyn and the flames. The firestorm billowed around them, turning the snow around them into vapour.

Bram pointed his sword towards Davion. A lance of light shot out, barely striking Davion's shoulder. Bram had aimed it deliberately, intending to hurt Davion and draw his ire, but not seriously harm him.

The firestorm relented, and the now monstrous turned baleful eyes upon Bram, only for Caewyn's flasher bolt to erupt right in front of them.

Howling, Davion stumbled back, blinking his eyes clear. Spears, axes and arrows started to fly thick and fast as the ursa closed in. Many bounced off the beast's scales, others jabbed into flesh and hide and held.

Davion roared, swept his wings, and jumped. Eserren grabbed Caewyn and pulled her down as he whooshed overhead, long claws outstretched. She rolled over and stood as quickly as she could, cursing as her joints protested, weighed down by her heavy armour.

Davion was gaining height, already swinging around the nearest peak. Before long, he was out of sight, vanishing into the clouds.

'Damn it!' Eserren snatched up her bardiche. 'We have to get after him!'

'That thing is a danger to us all,' one of the ursa agreed. 'It must be slain.'

'No!' the protest came from Auroth, who had reverted to her human form and was limping over, supported by Rylai. 'Killing him will kill us all.'

Eserren turned her, ignoring the faint grinding pain in her knees and the pulsing ache beginning in her forehead, noticing that Karhos and his remaining guards were gone. 'You said that before.'

'And I meant it.' Auroth stepped out from under Rylai's arm, grimacing, but obviously not too badly hurt. 'With all of that power in him… Eserren, if he dies, that power has to go somewhere.'

Caewyn's mouth dropped open as she realised what Auroth meant.

'How…' Bram swallowed. 'How bad would it be if…'

'If he died here? Now?' Auroth looked around the encampment of anxious ursa. 'There would be no more Icewrack, and everybody here would be destroyed.'

'But if he's lost to the Madness, how can we stop him?' Rylai asked.

'We can't kill him, as you said.' Ulfsaar stated. 'So what do we do? Run?'

Auroth sighed and shook her head. 'You'd never make it in time. Even if nothing kills him, his time is finite, and it's drawing to a close.

We still have only one chance: we need to get him to my lair, to the Nemesis Stone within. If that doesn't work…'

'We all die.' Eserren finished grimly. She looked to Caewyn, who nodded firmly. Whether or not she worried about Caewyn, running was not an option, and they would need to work together. 'Then we stick to your plan, Auroth, and hope it works, for all our sakes. Davion may be lost to the Madness, but in that state, he will act as little more than a beast, correct?'

Auroth nodded. 'Yes.'

'Then this is what we shall do.' Eserren pointed her weapon at the distant peaks, where Davion had flown away, hurt and enraged and insane. 'We give chase, and we get him to that stone, whatever it takes, whether he is willing or not, and may the gods look favourably upon us however this goes.'