'Welcome to my lands,' he said, a harsh smile cracking his tanned features.

'I thank you for granting us audience,' said Darrick, ignoring Tessaya's crude attempt at baiting. 'There is a critical matter to discuss that affects both our peoples.'

'Yes,' said Tessaya. 'Your surrender that confirms Wesmen ascension in Balaia and stops pointless death.' He looked past Darrick. 'Baron Blackthorne, it is as ever a pleasure.'

'I trust we shall soon be able to share the finest bottle from my cellars, my Lord,' responded Blackthorne. 'Assuming your departing force failed to find the way in. But unless you hear General Darrick, that pleasure will be denied us all.'

The Shaman leaned in and whispered into Tessaya's ear. The Wesman Lord nodded.

'I am already aware of your desperate search for help beyond this world. And even if you delay me here with meaningless talk, my kin Lord, Senedai, will destroy the Manse and then your precious Raven. He will soon overwhelm the Xeteskian unmen and, when he does, Balaia and another world will be open to my conquering armies. Speak, General Darrick. Let us see if you are as good a talker as you are a soldier.' Tessaya leaned back in his chair and took a deep draught of the goblet at his right hand. At a snap of his fingers, a door guard ran to the table to grab a jug for refill.

'Balaia is under threat. There is a hole in the sky that hangs above Parve. It links our world to another and it must be closed if we are not to be invaded by dragons. The Raven go to complete that task. If Lord Senedai stops them, we will all die. I have come here to ask you to stop him before he commits a monumental crime in the name of the Wesmen nation.' Darrick searched Tessaya's face for signs that he was really listening. He felt his face go cold as the contempt spread across the Wesman Lord's features.

'You must think me a stupid man and that makes me very unhappy,' he said. 'You should have respect for all I have achieved and yet you invent tales that a backward child would not believe.'

'He speaks the truth,' said Blackthorne. 'And you know me as a man of honour. I would not lie to you.'

'What I know is that desperate men will set aside their principles when death is the reward for keeping them,' said Tessaya smoothly. 'And I will tell you what is the truth. Indeed dragons will come here, completing a prophecy of our ancients unless I can stop them. And stop them, I will. There is no threat from the mark in the sky. My messengers tell me it is merely the fire mark of Parve, destroyed by your hands. I will not listen to you while your allies seek the only power that can halt the Wesmen march to Korina.

'And yet I will show you more respect than you show me. If you want to stop the Wesmen and you refuse honourable surrender, it will have to be on the battlefield. So go and prepare for the fight, if you have the stomach for it. Under the terms of parley, you have three hundred counts to leave my camp. That count has started.' He turned his attention to the food remaining on his plate.

Behind Darrick, the tent flap was pulled aside but he ignored it, striding forwards to bang his hands on the table, shaking the plate and upsetting the goblet which pirouetted over, spilling its liquid on the grass.

'And what if I do tell the truth and your men stop The Raven from closing the hole? It will be too late to ask for forgiveness when dragons are laying waste to Balaia, and they will fly over Wesmen lands first.' Darrick felt his anger burning. He heard a weapon drawn but ignored it. 'What will you do?'

Tessaya met his stare, waving a hand to keep his guards back. He smiled. 'If that is what you believe then you had better hope The Raven can outwit my northern army. The count continues.'

Blackthorne and Gresse came to Darrick's shoulders and gently drew him back.

'I understand your scepticism,' said Blackthorne. 'Yet it doesn't change the reality. As a gesture of good faith, Gresse and I will remain here as your prisoners. Should what we say turn out to be untrue, we will be at your mercy.'

Tessaya pushed a spoonful of meat into his mouth and chewed, talking around the food and pointing the spoon at Blackthorne.

'You are a brave man, Baron, and I have nothing but admiration for your defeat of my southern army. I almost lament the destruction of your town but such are the necessities of war. You make a generous offer but what hollow victory will it be, placing your two noble heads on spikes while my people are killed by your dragon allies?

'Do you not understand? I am soon to march to victory in Korina once I have defeated you here. I will rule Balaia. So you see, you are already at my mercy.' He turned to his Shaman who nodded and moved quickly to the tent door.

'Arnoan will escort you to the borders of the camp. I will see you in battle.'

The three senior Balaians looked at each other. Darrick felt a sense of desperation sweep over him and, for a moment, considered breaking the parley to kill Tessaya. But he could not and he knew Blackthorne and Gresse would move to stop him. Tessaya's point-blank refusal to believe him was quite predictable but it left The Raven helpless should Senedai defeat the Protectors.

Stalking from the audience, he found himself praying that Xetesk's abominations would live up to their reputation.

Sha-Kaan flew from Wingspread with the orb beginning its fall from the sky. The Great Kaan, tired from his exertions in battle and without a melde-corridor now Hirad Coldheart was in his domain, stretched aching wings to catch the winds in the heights, heading again for the Shedara Ocean to find Tanis-Veret, if his altemelde was still alive.

The cold air brought a clarity of thought to the Great Kaan, his speed driving ice into his lungs when he opened his mouth to breathe, serving also to quell his anger at Hirad Coldheart's words. He found he could see through the haze of his own mind at what his Dragonene's words actually meant.

And that hatched unusual feelings. Sha-Kaan was used to having his orders fulfilled without question or error. Yet The Raven had told him there was no certainty of success in their mission and Hirad had introduced him to a Balaian concept quite alien to him - that the best a man could possibly do had to be considered enough, even if it meant ultimate failure or even death. Sha-Kaan had let his contempt show. He should have killed the puny human then and there but once again Hirad had managed to stay him with irrefutable logic.

"Kill me and you'll never know if we would have succeeded and you will die. If we do fail, we'll all die in the attempt anyway and you will have your wish.' Spoken calmly. Sha-Kaan had laughed but it hadn't dampened his anger. Not then.

Now, flying to a meeting that had to bear fruit, he could understand the effort The Raven had made. He could feel their desire for success and he knew they were aware of the consequences of failure for themselves, for Balaia and for the Kaan. But knowing isn't the same as doing.

Another new emotion flashed through his body. Deep fear. He had been scared before; of injury, of facing the anger of his kin, and of his spawn dying before reaching maturity. But this was different. The fear marked the possibility that the entire Brood Kaan might become extinct and more, that they no longer wielded the weapons that could change that possibility. The Raven did.

They had to be protected at all costs which meant peeling defence from the gateway. He had too few healthy dragons. Elu-Kaan shimmered on the borders of death without his Dragonene to help him, reliant on the ministrations of the Vestare; and every melde-corridor was in use. The Kaan needed help and there was only one Brood that might turn. The tragedy was that it had been the Veret they had targeted in the last battle, knowing that to drive them off would break the Naik stranglehold. It had worked, but if the Veret refused him now, the death and maiming would have been for nothing.

Stooping from the heights with night full in the Shedaran sky, he feared the Kaan had done too thorough a job. No guard flew to meet him, no Veret sought revenge. None patrolled their air borders and the water below was still.

He landed on the meeting rock, pushed his head beneath the surface of the ocean and roared into its impenetrable depths. With his mind, he sought Tanis-Veret, pulsing his sorrow and his desperation at what had occurred in the skies over Teras. He pulsed his need and roared his urgency. He could only pray to the Skies that his altemelde heard him.

Sha-Kaan withdrew his head and lay flat across the rock, neck stretched in front of him. It was to keep his muscles extended and to appear in an attitude of deference from above but more it allowed his body sensors to cover the sea-drenched dark island, searching for vibrations from the water around him.

He waited for what felt an eternity in another's Brood space, exposed and vulnerable should attack come. Ultimately, though, he was rewarded. A thrumming through the rock told of the approach of a large dragon, powering up from the depths. Sha-Kaan sat up, neck to the formal V to greet Tanis-Veret as he exploded into the sky, water flying in all directions, waves rippling away from his exit point.

Water cascaded from his black-smeared body as he rose into the sky, trim wings angled for lift and tattered on the trailing edge. He bellowed his displeasure and fired a long breath into the air during a slow circle of the rock before landing heavily, tail sweeping water over his scarred lower back. His neck reared up, his eyes skewering Sha-Kaan with a malevolent stare.

'Here to preside over the final destruction of the Veret, Sha-Kaan?' He took in the sky as if expecting it to fill with enemy dragons.

'No, Tanis-Veret, I am here to offer your Brood a chance of salvation,' said Sha-Kaan, allowing his head to bow slightly in a fractional expression of humility.

'Hollow words,' spat the old Veret. 'Your eyes have not seen what you have wrought.'

'And now we-'

'Beneath our feet, the remnants of my Brood cling to the faint hope the Naik will honour their promise and leave us in peace when the Kaan are destroyed. Fewer than seventy of us remain, many near death in our melde-corridors. Of those that can still fly, I am the least wounded and the scales of my back will never knit, such was the ferocity of Kaan fire, claw and fang.' Tanis-Veret met Sha-Kaan's gaze again and his voice became an echo of itself, broken and exhausted. 'I cannot even spare the kin to defend my borders. Leave us, Sha-Kaan; you have done enough,'

But Sha-Kaan did not move, an open act of aggression should Tanis-Veret choose to take it that way. But the damaged dragon merely shook his head.

'I see,' he said.

'Skies above, Tanis, no you do not!' thundered Sha-Kaan. 'I came here and begged you not to ally with the Naik, to trust us that we would protect you from them but you would not listen and so we were bound to fight you and you were the weaker link.

'It is of no succour but the Kaan took no pleasure in your destruction. And now, we have the chance to help you survive.'

A laugh rumbled in the chest of Tanis-Veret and he growled in his throat. 'How can you help us? The Kaan are finished too. This meeting is a meeting of the dead. The gateway is too big for you to defend any longer. We can all see it. When the Naik next muster their allies, you will be destroyed and your melde-dimension with you.'

Sha-Kaan inclined his head. Tanis-Veret's incomplete knowledge led to his only possible conclusion. 'But we now have the means to close the gateway and we need you to give us the time to do it.'

'I can think of no reason why I should trust your words.'

'I make you this offer, Tanis-Veret,' said Sha-Kaan. 'It is your decision if you accept. I will place no pressure on you. I have travelled alone and at great risk to talk with you and am honoured that you still grant me audience. Natives of my melde-dimension have travelled here to use their skills to close the gateway in my sky. It was forged by their magic and can be undone by that same magic. But they will be on the ground and vulnerable while they work.

'If you join the battle on the side of the Kaan, we can defend them. And should they succeed, the Kaan will return to strength quickly. I do not believe the Naik will leave you be, should they triumph. What I can promise you, and you know my words can be trusted, is that we will protect you after our victory. We will keep enemies from your borders while you heal and keep you safe while your numbers recover. Never again will the Veret and the Kaan fight. Our lands do not cross, we have no reason to be in conflict. So it shall be with the Kaan.

'I do not expect you to answer now. It is your gamble and the fate of your Brood rests on your decision. I need your help. The Brood Kaan needs your help. And now I must leave. I have to prepare for battle, as do you. Perhaps I will see you dive on the Naik.'

'The Skies go with you, Sha-Kaan,' said Tanis-Veret, his tone enigmatic, thoughtful. 'I will respond to the call from the Naik as I must. But that is all I must do.'

'As you wish, Tanis-Veret.' He unfurled his wings, barked a farewell and flew for the Kaan Broodland, his heart a little easier while his mind turned to battle.

Chapter 33.

As evening gathered, the mist closed in and the pace of the Kaan Broodland, already sedate, slowed even further. No dragons remained outside, choosing Chouls, melde-corridors or private dwellings if they were of sufficient rank. The Raven sat outside near the river. They hadn't been given any quarters and were clearly expected to sleep outside in the open. But the night was warm and humid and sleeping by the river would present no problem.

The real problem lay in the uncertainty of the mages and Hirad felt that keenly. He saw the anxious look in Ilkar's eyes and the fidgeting of Denser's lips as they worried at the stem of his unlit pipe.

On the one hand it was extraordinary, he thought, as he watched the four of them arguing and practising a short distance away, sitting on a flat rock near the river, books and papers held open and down by small stones and pebbles. Here, four of Balaia's most talented mages, including the most powerful man in Xetesk, struggled with a problem for which they had practically all the information.

And on the other, it was no surprise at all. They were being asked to close a hole in the sky, the size of a city, hundreds of feet above their heads. Hirad could only guess at the skill that must take. Again, he felt helpless. He knew his role as warrior meant they got here at all, but now, with the most important work still to be done, he was sirring around drinking coffee.

Across the stove sat Thraun, silent and brooding, his long blond hair lank in the humidity, hanging in thick clotted strands around his head. The shapechanger had barely acknowledged his own existence since Will's death, coming to life only when The Raven were threatened. But, like so much of The Raven of the recent past, the man he had been was gone.

'Thraun?' ventured Hirad. The young man lifted his gaze from the grass he'd been studying and looked squarely at Hirad. There was no strength in his eyes. No determination. Nothing but a brooding sorrow. Now he'd got Thraun's attention, Hirad had little idea how to go on, knowing only that he had to get through somehow, that the silence could not be allowed to continue.

'How are you feeling?' Hirad cringed inwardly as he asked the lame question. Thraun ignored it.

'Will would have loved this place,' he said, his voice a low growl. 'He was quite nervous, you know. Strange that, for such a talented thief. This place is so tranquil. It would have calmed him.'

'Despite the large number of huge dragons flying about?'

Hirad was rewarded with the ghost of a smile on Thraun's lips. 'Despite that. Funny, isn't it. Something as small as Denser's Familiar scared him so badly while something as large as dragons hardly even ruffled his feathers.'

'I don't know,' said Hirad. 'There's much good in dragons, or the Kaan anyway. Nothing too holy about the Familiar.'

'I suppose.' Thraun fell silent, resuming his study of the ground. 'I can't bear this,' he said suddenly, catching Hirad off guard.

'Bear what?'

'Only he knows what it's really like.' Thraun indicated The Unknown who stood near the mages with the three surviving Protectors. 'Having something in you that you hate and love in equal measure. Something that you wish didn't afflict you but could not live without. Only his friends didn't die while he was a Protector.'

'Richmond did.'

'But The Unknown wasn't standing next to him, was he? You thought him dead. He had gone and Richmond couldn't be saved.'

'And neither could Will,' said Hirad earnestly, leaning forwards. 'Listen, when Sirendor Larn died, I felt the same. Like I let him down by not being stood by him at the moment of the attack. I had to accept quickly that there was nothing more I could have done. Yes, I had my revenge but you know something else? It doesn't make the pain any less. You just have to go on as best you can. Enjoy the things you still have, don't dredge up the things you don't.'

Thraun looked at Hirad again, nodding gently, tears brimming his eyes. 'I know you mean to help, Hirad. And I thank you for that. But Will was my only link to the human world when I was in wolf form. He was the only one I could trust to bring me back. The only one brave enough to stand up to me at my wildest. And I let him down. I hid inside my invulnerability because I was scared. It cost Will his life.

'It's something you can never really understand. He was my family and I loved him because he knew what I was and refused to judge me because of it. Now the only ones who won't judge me, the only ones who are my family are the pack. When we get back to Balaia, I will find them.'

'The Raven are your family now,' said Hirad. 'We're strong and we care. Stay with us.' Thraun's words had shaken Hirad. He felt the shapechanger slipping away from him.

That ghost crossed Thraun's lips again. 'That is an offer and a commitment stronger than you know. But I don't belong, not really. Not without Will.' He gazed deep into Hirad's eyes for a moment. 'But I won't let The Raven down.'

T know,' said Hirad.

It was curious, the force that drew The Unknown to the Protectors. But he saw their loneliness, their anxiety at separation from their brothers. He knew how they felt. And so he stood with them, lending them his immediacy. There were no words at first but The Unknown could sense the same lack of focus he had observed earlier. But stronger now, verging on confusion. He broke the silence.

'Cil, lie, Rya. I am Sol. You knew me. You know me still. You are troubled.'

Cil inclined his masked head. 'We cannot feel the brethren. Or the chain that binds us. Our souls are distant. We fear their loss.'

'Is the chain broken?' The Unknown was startled. To remove the DemonChain binding Protector to the Soul Tank would be to kill the body and lose the soul. But no Protector had ever travelled the dimensions and these Protectors were very much alive.

'We cannot feel it,' said Rya. 'It is not there.'

'But you can still feel your souls.'

'Distantly,' confirmed Cil.

'Then . . .' began The Unknown.

'Are we not free?' continued Cil. 'We will only know by removing our masks. And if we are wrong, torment is eternal. And how can we truly be free when our souls are not within our bodies.'

'Does Styliann know?' asked The Unknown, wondering whether he was truly free himself. Yet his hope for his brothers rose even as he feared their reaction to permanent separation from the totality.

'We are still his Given,' said Cil. 'We will not undermine his belief.'

'I will support you in whatever you choose,' said The Unknown.

Cil, Rya and He nodded, an exact movement.

'We are one,' they said. 'It is ever so.'

Darrick had decided his course of action before the parley team had reached their camp at a gallop, the hooting abuse of the Wesmen loud in their ears. Shouting for his regimental commanders, he slid from his horse and strode into the command post, Blackthorne and Gresse on his heels, a little winded from the hard ride.

The General stood behind the map table and his senior ranks were arrayed in front of him awaiting his words. His orders were swift and sure. Never show weakness. Never hesitate. Ask for comment. Prepare to adjust but never change.

'Tessaya will not yield, which we can't say is too surprising though I was disappointed in a man of his apparent education and intelligence. He thinks he has us where he wants us. We cannot break through his lines to reach the Manse and we cannot beat his march to Korina. We will, of course, attempt neither.

'We will move to engage his army immediately but with no thought of breaking it, merely occupying it. This is because we will not be attacking with our full strength. It is estimated that the army pressing the Manse is eight to ten thousand strong with only the Protectors keeping them away. Here is what will happen.

'The second, third and fourth regiments, under the command of Regimental Commander Izack, will depart immediately, heading south before turning east through Grethern Forest, aiming to attack the Wesmen at the Manse from the south tomorrow at first light.

'Tessaya will naturally anticipate this move. He is not a stupid man. Therefore the balance of the army under my command will meet them head on. We will try to draw them into the forest where our lack of numbers will be less of a disadvantage. Specifically, we will break the regiments into their component centiles and each Captain will have a particular area to guard. It's a risky strategy but will allow us to cover a wider front. It will be a running battle unless we can convince Tessaya he has us all trapped in the forest. Comment.'

'Sir,' said Izack, a black-haired middle-aged soldier with small brown eyes and an impeccably trimmed moustache. Darrick motioned for him to continue. 'The way through the woods is slow. If you are creating a diversion in Grethern, should we not march north and turn east beyond the first crag?'

'But then if the Wesmen threaten to overwhelm us, you could not help. By the time you're far enough south to turn east unseen, we'll know if we can hold them without you. And you aren't to travel the forest all the way. A mile beyond the Wesmen encampment, you should rejoin the main trail. Overall, a quicker journey than by crag.' Darrick had considered and dismissed Izack's thought earlier. But at least the man had the balls to speak up and the brain to speak well.

"General, you are trying to hide a great many men in the forest. Do you really think they can escape the Wesmen?' asked Gresse.