Yet again time seemed to stand still, almost to run in reverse of the banks of the eternal river. He could see his brother as he was, as both of them had once been, hunting together, sunlight drifting through the trees, standing together in the high mountains, the wind sweeping the world.

Bovai looked up at him. 'Brother,' he whispered.

Tinuva held the blade poised, ready to drive it into Bovai's heart and in that instant he knew… and he remembered as well all that he had become.

Sunlight filtered down again for a brief instant, lighting the clearing, snow sparkling like diamonds.

He smiled.

The blow came as no surprise: if there was any surprise it was that there was no pain. Just a strange inner warmth as Bovai's dagger, driven to the hilt, pierced his stomach, slamming up under the ribs and into his lungs.

'You've lost,' Tinuva whispered as the breath was driven out of him.

Bovai looked into Tinuva's eyes and in that instant he felt a madness, a horror, beyond any he had known before. He reached up, pushing Tinuva back. His brother, like a great statue, seemed to hang above him, then ever so slowly pitched over.

He kicked the body away, thrashing in a near panic. Then, trembling, he stood up.

All eyes were upon him.

'It's finished,' he whispered.

He turned slowly, looking from one to the other and he could sense their contempt. He looked back at Tinuva.

So you have robbed me even of this, brother, haven't you?

'Damn you!' Bovai screamed.

The group surrounding him was silent and at that instant Bovai knew his brother had been right: he had lost something in this moment, the pain and anger that had driven him for centuries. For a moment, he felt as if life had lost its purpose. Softly he said, 'But I won…'

'No!'

It was a distant scream of anguish, of a long, pent-up rage. Bovai turned, looking in disbelief at the swarm of men closing in, white-and-grey capes fluttering in the wind as they ran, some wearing lacquered armour that caught the beams of sunlight and stood out like brilliant lanterns on a cold dark night.

The charge swarmed down the slope like an avalanche. Arrows snapped past. One of his cousins spun around, clutching his throat; another collapsed with a scream.

All stood transfixed, confused, startled, so sudden was the onset of the charge.

And then Bovai saw him. He had never truly laid eyes upon him before, but he knew his blood, the blood of his grandsire. It was Hartraft, storming forward, leading the charge, a short warrior wearing a lacquered breastplate by his side. Hartraft came in at the run, bow cast aside, both hands held high on his heavy sword.

Bovai spared a final glance at his brother even as he began to raise his dagger.

The sword arced in. There was a brilliant flash of light… and then silence.

'No!'

Dennis turned even as he completed the blow, spinning around on his heel, watching as Bovai's head tumbled away, striking the snow, body collapsing. Screaming, he struck again at the body, the blow nearly cutting Bovai in half at the waist. Sobbing, he drew the blade back, ready to strike again, then saw that Asayaga had raced past, had killed one moredhel and was closing on another. Behind him another moredhel was closing in, spear lowered… and his mind suddenly conjured the image of Jurgen trying to save Richard in similar circumstances, for Asayaga was struggling to save one of the Kingdom privates who was down on the ground, desperately trying to block a moredhel closing in with raised sword.

Dennis sprinted forward.

'Asayaga!'

The Tsurani did not hear him.

He was too far off to close in time. Still holding his blade with both hands he lofted it behind his head and threw. The sword tumbled end over end, slamming into the moredhel even as he braced himself to run his spear through Asayaga's back.

The sword struck so hard that the moredhel leapt backwards as if yanked from behind, his only sound the breath knocked from his lungs. Asayaga, killing his own opponent a second later, turned and saw Dennis standing weaponless, the moredhel between them, kicking and thrashing, Dennis's sword stuck in his side.

Men charged past, eyes wide with lust and battle-fury. The moredhel, caught so completely by surprise, had given way in panic and were running to where the goblins and human cavalry waited over the distant rise. Few made it, many falling with arrows in their backs, or were cut down as they fled. The humans and goblins on the far side of the hill came swarming up, drawn by the loud outcry at the end of the battle between Tinuva and Bovai. After hours of bored waiting many had built fires; a few were even asleep, fewer still on the crest of the hill were in armour or even had weapons.

Within seconds they, too, were breaking in panic as a squad of Kingdom and Tsurani troops, led by Tasemu, hit their flank. The watchers on the hill broke, running back down to the camp, screaming in terror that they were being attacked by hundreds.

The moredhel's advantage and the edge gained by having calvary vanished in an instant. Horsemen died before they could saddle their mounts, and in the first onslaught, so many moredhel, men, and goblins were killed that within minutes Dennis's and Asayaga's command held the edge. One more minute, and the goblins broke in panic.

More than one goblin turned on the moredhel commanders who tried to rally them, and soon men, goblins and moredhel were slaying each other in a mad frenzy as all tried to escape.

The ground was littered with the dead and dying. Tasemu marched forward, a squad of Kingdom soldiers forming a ring of archers around him. A ragged line of Tsurani crested the hill, slaying everyone in their path as they advanced, and more Kingdom soldiers fell in around their disciplined line, loosing bolt after bolt into the milling, terrified mob.

Behind Dennis, who stood in a daze, Gregory held his friend and wept.

Asayaga joined Dennis, and the two of them slowly approached the fallen elf.

Tinuva looked up at them and smiled. 'Foolish, you should have gone over the bridge,' he whispered.

'We would not leave you here,' Asayaga said.

'Bovai?'

'I killed him,' Dennis replied, voice trembling.

Tinuva sighed. 'Bury him beside me: we were brothers once.'

Dennis nodded.

Tinuva sighed. His eyes flickered and then he looked back at Dennis and Asayaga. 'Fate has made you enemies, now let honour turn that fate.'

As he started to slip away he began to chant softly. Dennis recognized the words as eledhel, but did not know their meaning.

Gregory, sobbing, spoke the words with him and at last Tinuva's voice fell silent, his spirit slipping away to the distant shore of the Blessed Isle.

Dennis reached down and gently touched Tinuva's forehead. 'Go in peace my friend,' he whispered.

Asayaga did the same, touching Tinuva's blood and anointing his forehead with it.

The two looked at each other in the grim silence, then together went to finish the fight.