Gan Degas removed his helm and laid it on the table.

Stone-faced, Kaem sat opposite him.

'I take it you are ready to surrender,' said Kaem.

'Yes. If certain conditions are met.'

'Name them.'

'My men are not to be harmed – they are to be released to return to their homes.'

'Agreed … once they have laid down their weapons and the fortress is ours.'

'Many citizens fled to the fortress; they also must be allowed to go free and reclaim the homes your men took from them.'

'Petty bureaucracy,' said Kaem. 'It will cause us no problems.'

'What guarantees of faith can you give me?' asked Degas.

Kaem smiled. 'What guarantees can any man give? You have my word – that should be enough between generals. If it is not, you have only to keep the gates barred and fight on.'

Degas dropped his eyes. 'Very well. I have your word, then?'

'Of course, Degas.'

'The gates will be opened at dawn.'

The old warrior pushed himself to his feet and turned to leave.

'Do not forget your helm,' mocked Kaem.

Laughter echoed in the corridor as Degas was led from the hall, flanked by two men in black cloaks. Out in the night air he walked along the docks and up towards the eastern gate. There a rope was lowered from the gate tower; Degas looped his wrist around it and was hauled up into the fortress.

Back at the palace, Kaem silenced his officers and turned to Dalnor.

'There are some four thousand men in the fortress. Killing them all will take some planning – I don't want a mountain of rotting corpses spreading plague and disease. I suggest you split the prisoners into twenty groups, then take them down to the harbour group by group. There are a score of empty warehouses. Kill them and cart their bodies into the discharged grain ships. Then they can be dumped at sea.

'Yes, my lord. It will take some time.'

'We have time. We will leave a thousand men to man the fortress and push west into Skultik. The war is almost over, Dalnor.'

'Indeed it is – thanks to you, my lord.'

Kaem swung round to a dark-bearded officer on his right.

'What news of Waylander?'

'He still lives, Lord Kaem. Last night he and his friends fought off an attack by my Brothers. But more are on their way.'

'I must have the Armour.'

'You will have it, my lord. The Emperor has commissioned the assassin Cadoras to hunt Waylander. And twenty of my Brothers are closing in. Added to this, we have received word from the robber Durmast; he asks 20,000 silver pieces for the Armour.'

'Of course you agreed?'

'No, my lord, we beat him down to 15,000. He would have been suspicious had we met his original request without argument. Now we have his trust.'

'Be careful of Durmast,' warned Kaem. 'He is like a rogue lion – he will turn on anyone.'

'Several of his men are in our employ, my lord; we have anticipated all eventualities. The Armour is ours. Waylander is ours – just as the Drenai are ours.'

'Beware of over-confidence, Nemodes. Do not count the lion's teeth until you see flies on his tongue.'

'But surely, my lord, the issue is no longer in doubt?'

'I had a horse once, the fastest beast I ever owned. It could not lose and I wagered a fortune on it. But a bee stung it in the eye just before the start. The issue is always in doubt.'

'Yet you said the war was almost over,' protested Nemodes.

'So it is. And until it is, we will remain wary.'

'Yes, my lord.'

'There are three men who must die. Karnak is one. Egel is the second. But most of all I want to see Waylander's head on a lance.'

'Why Karnak?' asked Dalnor. 'One battle is not sufficient to judge him dangerous.'

'Because he is reckless and ambitious. We cannot plan for him,' answered Kaem.

'There are some men who are good swordsmen, archers or strategists. There are others, seemingly gifted by the Gods, who are masters of all they touch. Karnak is one of these – I cannot read him and that disturbs me.'

'He is said to be in Skarta, serving under Egel,' said Dalnor. 'We will have him soon.'

'Perhaps,' said Kaem doubtfully.

Kaem fought to control his tension as he stood at the head of the Second Legion in the shadow of the eastern gate. Dawn was now minutes old, but still there was no movement from beyond the gates. He was acutely aware of the hostile stares from the archers on the battlements of the gate tower as he stood in full red and bronze battle gear with the sweat trickling between his shoulder-blades.

Dalnor stood behind him, flanked by swordsmen: dark-eyed warriors of the First Elite, the most deadly fighting men of the Second Legion of the Hounds of Chaos.

The sound of tightening ropes and the groaning of rusty ratchets ended Kaem's tension – beyond the gates of oak and iron, the huge bronze reinforced bar was being lifted. Minutes passed and then the gates creaked open. A swelling sense of triumph grew within Kaem, but he swallowed it back, angry at the power of his emotions.

Behind him men began shuffling their feet, anxious to end the long siege and enter the hated fortress.

The gates widened.

Kaem walked into the shadows of the portcullis and out into the bright sunlight of the courtyard …

And there stopped so suddenly that Dalnor walked into him knocking him forward; his helmet tipped over his eyes and he straightened it. The courtyard was ringed with fighting men, swords drawn. At the centre, leaning on a double-headed battleaxe, stood a huge warrior, barbarously ill-clad. The man handed the axe to a companion and strolled forward.

'Who is that fat clown?' whispered Dalnor.

'Be silent!' ordered Kaem, his brain working at furious pace.

'Welcome to Dros Purdol,' said the man, smiling.

'Who are you, and where is Gan Degas?'

'The Gan is resting. He asked me to discuss your surrender.'

'What nonsense is this?'

'Nonsense, my dear general?' What can you mean?'

'Gan Degas agreed to surrender to me today after his conditions were met.' Kaem licked his lips nervously as the huge warrior grinned down at him.

'Ah, the conditions,' he said. 'I think there was a misunderstanding. When Gan Degas asked for safety for his men, he didn't quite mean taking them in groups of twenty to the warehouse dock and killing them.' The man's eyes narrowed and the humour vanished from his smile. 'I opened the gates to you, Kaem, so that you could see me. Know me … Understand me. There will be no surrender. I have brought with me three thousand men,' lied Karnak, 'and I command this fortress.'

'Who are you?'

'Karnak. Bear the name in mind, Vagrian, for it will be the death of you.'

'You make loud noises, Karnak, but few men fear a yapping dog.'

'True, but you fear me, little man,' said Karnak equably. 'Now – you have twenty seconds to clear your men from the gate. After that the air will be thick with arrows and death. Go !'

Kaem turned on his heel to find himself staring at several hundred warriors – the cream of his force – and the full humiliation struck him like a blow. He was inside the fortress with the gates open, yet he could not order the attack for every archer had his bow bent and the shaft aimed at himself. And to save himself – and save himself he must – he had to order them to withdraw. His stock would sink among the men and morale would be severely dented.

He swung back, his face purple with fury. 'Enjoy your moment, Drenai! There will be few such highlights from now on.'

'Fifteen seconds,' said Karnak.

'Back!' shouted Kaem. 'Back through the gates.'

The sound of mocking laughter followed the Vagrian general as he shouldered his way through his troops.

'Close the gates,' yelled Karnak, 'and then get ready for the whoresons!'

Gellan moved alongside Karnak. 'What did you mean about warehouses and killing?'