'We shall see.'

'Leave me, demon!'

'One last gift before I go. Watch and learn!' The face shimmered and shrank, the flames surged anew and within the blaze Waylander saw Durmast chasing Danyal through a dark wood. He caught her by the banks of a river and swung her round. She lashed at his face, but he parried the blow. Then he struck her and she fell; his hands ripped away her tunic …

Waylander watched the scene that followed, screaming only when Durmast drew his knife across her throat. Then he passed out.

And the pain ceased.

Dardalion and The Thirty knelt in the open courtyard by the stables, their minds joined, their concentration honed, their spirits seeping through the timbers and gullies below the stable.

The first rat was asleep, but its button eyes opened in alarm and it scurried away as it felt the presence of Man. Its nostrils quivered, but no scent of the enemy could be found in the dank air. It turned, filled with a terrible terror, squealed and ran for the open. More and more of its fellows joined it in the panic race for life. From gullies and drains and forgotten sewers the rats poured out into the courtyard, drawn to the circle of priests. The first rat ran to lie beside Astila, knowing only that here in the courtyard was an end to fear. Nothing could harm it while it lay thus, in the moon shadow of the Man. Others followed it and a great circle formed about the priests.

From the ramparts above Karnak watched in fascination, while around him officers and men made the sign of the Protective Horn.

Hundreds of rats clustered about the priests, clambering over their robes and on their shoulders. Sarvaj swallowed hard and looked away. Gellan shook his head and scratched his arm.

Dardalion slowly raised his arm and Gellan caught the movement.

'Open the gates. Gently now, only a foot or so!' Gellan glanced up at the soldier on the gate tower. 'What can you see?'

'No movement from the enemy, sir.'

As silently as they could, the soldiers by the gate removed the bronze reinforced bars from the gates and pulled them open.

The first rat blinked and shivered as the comforting blanket of safety slipped away from him. He scampered towards the gates and the horde followed.

The night air was cool as the black mass moved down the hill and into the silent streets of Purdol town, then on to the market squares and the pitched tents of the Vagrian army. On flowed the rats, over cobbled streets and into the tents.

One man awoke as a black rat scampered across his face; he sat up screaming and lashing out. Then a second one fell from his shoulder, landing in his lap with its teeth plunging into his thigh. Other screams filled the night as the rats moved on. Lunging men snapped tent poles and the white canvas billowed around them; others ran from the streets to hurl themselves into the sea. A burning brazier fell and flames licked at dry canvas, while the eastern breeze fanned the blaze and sent it leaping from tent to tent.

High on the Purdol walls Karnak's laughter echoed in the mountains, as the sounds of panic rose from the city below.

'It's not often that visiting relatives are greeted with such a display,' said Sarvaj. Jonat chuckled.

'Gods, what pandemonium,' said Gellan. 'Dardalion!' he called. 'Come up and view your handiwork.'

The priest in silver armour shook his head and led The Thirty back into the hospital building, where Evris was waiting.

'Mighty fine, young man,' he said, grasping Dardalion's hand. 'Mighty fine indeed. What can you do with cockroaches?'

Dardalion grinned. 'I think I'll leave that for another day, Evris, if you don't mind—'

Astila, alert as always, caught Dardalion as he fell.

'Carry him in here,' said Evris, pushing open the door to his own room. Astila laid Dardalion on the narrow bed and removed the silver armour, while Evris lifted Dardalion's wrist. "The pulse is strong. I think he's just exhausted – how long since he slept?'

Astila shrugged. 'I don't know, surgeon. But I have only had three hours in the last eighty. There is so much to do – so many wounded and dying. And then at night …'

'I know. The Brotherhood stalks the darkness.'

'We will not hold them much longer. Soon we will die.'

'How many of them are there?'

'Who knows?' answered Astila wearily. 'They have been reinforced. Last night we almost lost Baynha and Epway. Tonight … ?'

'Get some rest. You are taking on too much.'

'It is the price of guilt, Evris.'

'You have nothing to feel guilty about, surely?'

Astila placed his hands on the surgeon's shoulders. 'It is all relative, my friend. We are taught that life is sacred. All life. I once got out of bed and trod on a beetle – I felt somehow defiled. How do you think I feel tonight, with scores of men dying in the town below? How do you think we all feel? There is no joy for us here, and the absence of joy is despair.'

Six men knelt before the shaman, six warriors with shining eyes and grim faces: Bodai, who had lost his right arm two years before; Askadi, whose spine was twisted following a fall from a cliff; Nenta, once a fine swordsman, now crippled with arthritis; Belikai the blind; Nontung the leper, fetched from the caves of Mithega; Lenlai the possessed, whose fits grew more frequent and who had bitten off his own tongue in a terrible spasm.

Kesa Khan, dressed now in a robe of human scalps, gave each man a draught of Lyrrd, spiced with the herbs of the mountains. He watched their eyes as they drank, noting the swelling of the pupils and the dawning of incomprehension.

'My children,' he said slowly, 'you are the Chosen. You whom life has robbed, you will be strong again. Sleek and strong. Power will flow in your veins. And then having tasted the strength you will die, and your souls will flow to the Void on a sea of joy. For you will have served the blood of your blood and fulfilled a Nadir destiny.' They sat still, their eyes fixed on his. Not a movement came from them – not a blink, seemingly not a breath. Satisfied, Kesa Khan, clapped his hands lightly and six acolytes entered the cave, leading six grey timber wolves, muzzled and wary.

One by one, Kesa Khan approached the wolves, removing first the leash and then the muzzle. He laid his bony fingers across their eyes and each sat obediently where he led them, until at last all six were squatting before the crippled warriors. The acolytes withdrew.

Kesa Khan closed his eyes, allowing his mind to flow around the cave and out into the darkness of the Nadir night, feeling the pulse of the land and tuning it to his own. He felt the vast elemental power of the mountains rushing into his mind, swelling within him, seeking to explode the frail man-shell that held it. The shaman opened his eyes, stilling the adrenal surge within his veins.

'In this cave the assassin rested. His scent is upon the rocks. Your last memory must be of this man: this tall, round-eyed Drenai who seeks to thwart the destiny of our race. Burn his image into your minds, even as the wolves feel the searing hatred of his scent in their nostrils, Waylander the Slayer. The Soul Stealer in the shadows. He is a strong man, this one – but not as strong as you will be. He is fast and deadly – but not as fast as you, my children.

'His flesh will be sweet, his blood like the wine of the mountains. No other flesh can sustain you. All other food will be poison to you. He alone is your life.'

Kesa Khan took a deep breath and stood, moving along the squatting wolves to touch each gently on the neck. As he touched them they tensed and growled, their eyes fixed on the silent men.

Suddenly the shaman screamed and the wolves leapt, their great fangs fastening on the throats before them. The men made no move as the fangs sliced through flesh and bone.