'As you said, Dardalion,' snapped Gellan, 'you have not walked the walls as we have.'

'Forgive me, Gellan, I did not mean to be condescending.'

Gellan shook his head. 'Do not mind me, young priest. I know my men. They are stronger even than they believe and they have already performed miracles. No one could have expected them to last this long. I just wonder how much longer they can stand.'

'I agree with Gellan,' said Dundas. 'The decision is one we may rue for the rest of our lives, but it must be made. We must pull back.'

'You are the military men,' agreed Dardalion, 'and I am not trying to sway you. But the men are righting like demons and there is no give in them. This morning, I am told, a man with his arm hacked off killed three Vagrians before pitching from the battlements. And when he fell, he dragged another enemy soldier with him. That does not sound like the attitude of defeat.'

'I saw that from the gate tower,' said Dundas. 'The man was a farmer, I spoke to him once – he'd lost his entire family to mercenaries.'

'One man doesn't alter the situation,' said Gellan. 'What we are asking of the men is inhuman and sooner or later they must crack.'

The door to the bedchamber swung open and the three men turned to see Karnak looming in the doorway, one huge hand steadying himself on the wooden frame.

'They won't crack, Gellan,' he said. Blood was seeping through the bandage over his eye and his face was ashen, but the power of the man dominated the scene.

'You should be resting, general,' said Dardalion.

'I had a rest in the tunnel. You've no idea what a rest it was, old lad! But I am back now. I've listened to all of you for some time, and there's something to be said for each argument. But my decision is the final one and it is this: We hold the wall. There will be no retreat to the Keep.

'Those men out there have been magnificent they will continue to be so. But if we withdraw them to see their comrades butchered, they will lose that iron edge. Then the Keep would fall within days.'

He moved forward and slumped into a wide chair. 'Dundas, get some clothes for me – garish clothes. And find me a leather patch to wear over this bandage. And fetch me another axe. I'm going out on to the ramparts.'

'That is insane, sir,' said Gellan. 'You are in no condition to fight.'

'Fight? I am not going to fight, Gellan. I'm going to be seen. There's Karnak, they'll say. A mountain fell on him and he's back! Now get me the clothes!' He turned to Dardalion. 'One of your priests told me days ago that your powers to push back the Brotherhood have been cut so that you can hold some sort of magic shield over Waylander. Is that true?'

'It is, sir.'

'Where is Waylander now?'

'Close to the mountain.'

'Then lift the shield.'

'I cannot.'

'Listen to me, Dardalion, you believe in the power of the Source against all the forces of Chaos, and you have fought steadfastly in that belief.

'But now I think you are guilty of arrogance. I don't say that lightly, or even critically. I am an arrogant man myself. But you have decided that Waylander is more important to the Drenai than Purdol. Maybe you are right. But he is now close to the Armour and you have got him there. Let the Source bring him home.'

Dardalion looked up and met Karnak's stare. 'You must understand, sir, that the enemies Waylander faces are not all human. The Nadir and the Brotherhood trail him, yes, but there are others –beasts from the pit. If I lift the shield he will be alone.'

'Understand this: If he is alone it means only that there is no Source. You follow the reasoning?'

'I believe so, though I fear it is specious.'

'And that is your arrogance speaking. The Source existed before you were born and will continue to exist after you are dead. You are not the only weapon he has.'

'But if you are wrong!'

'Then he dies, Dardalion. But trees will grow, streams will run to the seas and the sun will shine. Lift the damned shield!'

The priest pushed himself to his feet and moved towards the door.

'Will you do it?' said Karnak.

'It is done,' said Dardalion.

'Good! Now push the Brotherhood from Purdol!'

It was close to midnight and the last of the Vagrians limped back to their camp-fires. Jonat leapt to the ramparts and bellowed after them: 'Come back, you bastards, we're not finished with you yet.'

Along the wall stretcher-bearers carried away the wounded, while the dead were thrown from the battlements. Jonat sent a dozen men to fetch food and water before patrolling his section, checking casualties. For days now he had felt the burden of his new responsibilities weighing him down, and his own deep well of bitterness had brought him close to despair. The knowledge that the Brotherhood were at work had helped him a little, but tonight he felt free. The stars shone, the breeze from the sea was fresh and clean and the enemy were scurrying to their tents like whipped dogs. Jonat felt stronger than at any time in his life, and his grin was wide as he swapped jests with the soldiers around him. He even waved to Sarvaj at the gate tower, his intense dislike of the man submerged in his new-found good humour.

Suddenly a ragged cheer went up from the right and Jonat turned to see Karnak striding up the battlement steps. Behind him were four soldiers bearing flagons of wine.

'I see you, Jonat, you rascal,' roared Karnak. Jonat chuckled and caught the bottle Karnak lobbed in his direction. 'I take it you'll drink with me?'

'Why not, general?'

Karnak sat down and called the men to him. 'You've probably heard that I had to close the tunnel,' he said, grinning. 'It means the only way out is through the main gates. How do you feel about that?'

'Just let us know when you're ready to leave, general!' called a man at the back.

'Well, I would have said tonight, but the enemy seems downhearted enough,' said Karnak. 'After all, we don't want to rub their noses in it.'

'Is it true you caved in the mountain?' asked another man.

'I'm afraid so, old lad. My engineers left winches and pulleys in the tunnels and an elaborate set-up by one of the main beams. After all, you can't have an open road into a fortress.'

'We heard you were dead,' said Jonat.

'Good Gods, man, you think a mere mountain could kill me? What little faith you have! Anyway, how are you all faring?'

For some minutes Karnak sat and chatted with them, before moving further down the line. Two hours later he returned to his room, his eye a blistering agony, his strength all but gone. He lowered his body to the bed, rolled on to his back and groaned.

In the hall below Dardalion opened his eyes and looked about him. Eight priests met his gaze and nine more were stirring, but six lifeless bodies were slumped across the table.

'The Brotherhood are no longer a threat,' said Astila, 'but the price of victory is high.'

'The price is always high,' said Dardalion. 'Let us pray.'

'For what should we pray, Dardalion?' asked the young priest named Baynha. 'That we kill more enemies? More than sixty of the Brotherhood died tonight. I cannot take much more of this endless slaying.'

'You think we are wrong, Baynha?' questioned Dardalion gently.

'It is more a question of not knowing if we are right.'

'May I speak, Dardalion?' asked Astila and Dardalion nodded.

'I am not as intellectually gifted as some of our Order,' Astila began, 'but bear with me, brothers. I recall a phrase the Abbot used when I was a novitiate. He said: "When a fool sees himself as he is, then he is a fool no longer; and when a wise man learns of his own wisdom, then he becomes a fool." This caused me great trouble, for it seemed mere word play. But after many years I have come to this conclusion: that only in certainty is there moral danger. Doubt is the gift we must cherish, for it forces us to question our motives constantly. It guides us to truth. I do not know if we chose wisely the path we now walk. I do not know if we are right in what we do. But we walk it in faith.