'Well they can't,' she said, frustrated at his lack of understanding. 'It's obvious, isn't it?'

'No,' said Denser. She sighed impatiently, caught herself at it and stopped herself retorting.

'Sorry.' She calmed herself. 'It's mass use of magic that causes the problems. If they are all out there casting shields tomorrow, the focus will fail. There's no doubt about that in my mind. Geren was only half right. The only chance is to raise the Heart, get it back into the place where it can generate the flow again, and hope the shadow can be suppressed while they raise it.'

'How?'

She shrugged. 'Well, I'll have to think of something, won't I?'

'Like what?'

'How the hell do I know! Gods Denser, I'm not the bloody oracle.'

'Yes, but you are the only one who can do something to help. No one else can even see the problem, let alone do anything to stop it.'

She pushed away and stood up, feet chilling on the cold stone. 'Great. Erienne, the saviour of Julatsa. Erienne, the saviour of the whole bloody world.' She turned on him. 'Pity is, I have no idea how to do it.'

'Well, can I-'

'No!' she shouted. 'No one can.' She put her head in her hands. 'Sorry, Denser. Please go back to sleep. You need rest for tomorrow.'

'Come back to bed,' he said, voice gentle, the one she had fallen in love with.

'I can't sleep any more. I need to think.'

'When will the Al-Arynaar be able to cast again?' asked Denser after a pause.

She shrugged. 'They were drained, you know. I couldn't help that. Maybe in the afternoon. Maybe later.'

'I see,' he said. 'Erienne, will you do something for me?'

'If I can,' she said.

'Tell everything you've told me to Darrick. I don't think he was going to sleep much tonight and he should know. He'll be in the refectory or the gatehouse.'

'It's as good a place to walk as any.' She searched around for her shoes and a shawl to put around her shoulders.

‘Ilove you, Erienne:'

'Don't you forget it.'

The news for Blackthorne was as good as it could possibly be. Communion between Dordovan mages had informed him that a force of around two hundred and fifty was closing in on Julatsa. With those he had with him, they would make three hundred and they could yet strike the decisive blow.

A Lysternan cavalry mage had brought further news in the early hours of the morning that the college still stood and that Izack was planning another assault on the Xeteskians at the earliest opportunity. Though their cavalry was stronger, the Xeteskians had lost the day and were camped just outside the city to the south. He had been advised to enter from the north or west.

It was not quite dawn when Blackthorne roused his band of tired but willing Dordovan and Lysternan fighting men and mages. With them rode his own few men and their spirit had grown by the hour as their wounds had healed and their aches and pains eased. There would not be a better time to move and attack, and he was not going to miss the rendezvous point a mile west of the city.

They marched quietly as they approached the silent college city. Away to their right, the sun was beginning to climb over the horizon and the enemy had to be close. But friends were closer still and would soon be in sight.

'This could turn out to be a great day, Luke,' said Blackthorne. 'If The Raven can mastermind holding onto the college for another morning, we could be on them. The war is not yet lost.'

‘Ihave prayed that we wouldn't be too late, my Lord,' said Luke. He was smiling, his young face bright and alive.

'Some day, everyone's prayers are answered. Perhaps today it is your turn.'

Blackthorne was leading his ragtag bunch up a gentle wooded incline. At the crest, they would be able to see all the way down to Julatsa. He was hoping too that they would be able to see where the allies were waiting. He was looking forward to seeing a friendly army for a change.

The further they walked, the more Blackthorne demanded quiet. He had dismounted and was leading his horse as were all of his own men. One hand was on the bridle, the other flattening his sword against his waist to stop it from jangling. It would not do at this time to blunder into an enemy they had not foreseen. His scouts, however, few though he could spare, had reported nothing for a mile all around them ever since they had left their rest stop.

Those scouts had returned now and were only a hundred yards or so ahead, the furthest still in sight, just cresting the rise. Blackthorne saw the scout crouch suddenly and slither off out of sight. Immediately, he stopped the march, the men already knowing better than to question the Baron. He waited and it was not long before the scout reappeared, haring down the incline and sliding to a stop.

'My Lord,' he said.

'Calm yourself,' said Blackthorne. 'Tell me what you see.'

'The allies are not far ahead, they are along the banks of the River Taalat no more than a mile distant. The city is close. But there are others closing in on them. I cannot be sure but I would say they are

Xeteskian. Mages. There are few but they move with great purpose. My Lord, I would stake my life that they aim to attack.'

'And do the allies outnumber them?'

'Ten to one, my Lord.'

'Then…' Blackthorne trailed off. Everything became awfully clear. He turned to his men. 'The allies are going to come under spell attack. For ease, split down college lines. Dordover, run to them, warn them off but don't get too close, Luke go with them, take four of our people. Ride hard. They may not see you early, that's why I need Dordovans behind you making a racket. Lystern, come with me. We have some mages to kill.' He swung into his saddle. 'Oh, and we'll be running and we'll be shouting too. The time for quiet is at an end. Come on!'

The band ran up the slope, Blackthorne at a half-canter at their side. Luke and the other riders had ploughed off and were already over the slope and heading hard towards the Dordovans. Blackthorne breasted the rise and saw it all laid out before him. The allies, oblivious to the threat that approached them from the south-east, the Xeteskians, and he was certain his scout was right, riding quickly towards their goal, directed by familiars, flying above them.

'Let's go!' shouted Blackthorne, and set off down the long slope after the Xeteskian riders.

He was well in advance of the foot soldiers but he had three of his own about him. It didn't matter if he was killed, so long as he disrupted for long enough the casting he was sure was coming. He closed the gap steadily but the Xeteskians were well ahead, their familiars now high in the sky, hovering over the allies who were, he could see, beginning to shift, unease rippling through them.

Way to his left now, Luke was flying along, hair streaming out behind him, one arm waving wildly. Blackthorne fancied he could hear the boy's shouts.

'Just don't get too close,' he said to himself.

Ahead, the Xeteskians dismounted and formed a tight group, swordsmen remaining mounted, cantering around in a protective ring. Behind him, the Lysternans were making a game attempt to keep up but he was already fifty yards ahead and pulling further clear.

A pressure beat down on his ears and his horse slowed dramatically, its head rocking from side to side, its flanks shuddering. A black line appeared in the sky, quickly resolving into half a dozen such lines, crossing to make a star that dragged cloud to it in great swirls that thickened and darkened.

'No, no!' Blackthorne shouted and urged his horse on but it was reluctant to move.

Ignoring the growing pain deep in his ears, Blackthorne dismounted and began to run on towards the waiting horsemen whose own mounts had suffered the same discomfort as his; the loose mage horses had bolted, heading away to sanctuary wherever they could find it.