'Someone may get out of the hospital,' protested the man.

'No one will live through that inferno. Shut the gates.'

Karnak made his way to the great hall where Dardalion and the surviving twelve priests of the The Thirty were deep in prayer.

'Dardalion!'

The priest opened his eyes. 'Yes, general?'

'Tell me that Egel is on his way.'

'I cannot, the Brotherhood are everywhere and we cannot break out.'

'Without Egel, we are doomed. Finished. It will all have been for nothing.'

'We will have done our best, general. No one can ask for more.'

'I damn well can. Trying is for losers – all that counts is winning.'

'Waylander is dead,' said Dardalion suddenly, 'but the Armour is on its way to Egel.'

'The Armour is too late for us now, it was to have been a rallying point. If Egel has not yet raised an army, it will matter not at all.'

'Not to us, general. But Egel could link with Ironlatch.'

Karnak said nothing. The logic was irresistible and perhaps that had been Egel's plan all along. He must have known Karnak was a potential enemy in the long term – what better way to handle him than to allow the Vagrians to end his ambitions? And a link with Ironlatch would drive a wedge through the Vagrian forces, freeing the capital.

Purdol would wait.

Egel would have it all: the Armour, the army and the nation.

'He will come if he can, general,' said Dardalion.

'Why should he?'

'Egel is a man of honour.'

'What does that mean?' snapped Karnak.

'I hope that it means Egel will do exactly what you would if you were in his place.'

Karnak laughed, his good humour restored. 'I do hope not, Dardalion. I am rather counting on him getting here!'

As she slept, Danyal became aware of a voice piercing her dreams, blending with her sleeping thoughts. The awareness grew and she recognised Dardalion; he seemed thinner now and older, bowed down by enormous pressures.

'Danyal, can you hear me?'

'Yes,' she said and smiled wearily.

'Are you well?

'I am unhurt, no more than that.'

'Do you have the Armour still?'

'Yes.'

'Where are you?'

'Less than a day from the river and the ferry. There is someone with me – a monster creature. He saw Waylander die.'

'Open your eyes and show me,' he said and Danyal sat up. Kai still sat by the fire, his great eye closed, his huge mouth hanging open.

'There is no evil in him,' said Dardalion. 'Now listen to me, Danyal – I am going to try to reach Egel and urge him to send a troop to escort you home. Wait at the ferry until you hear from me.'

'Where are you?'

'I am at Dros Purdol, but the situation here is desperate and we are mere days from destruction. There are fewer than six hundred men to hold the fortress and we have barricaded ourselves within the Keep. The food is almost gone and the water is stale.'

'What can I do?

'Wait at the ferry. May the Source bless you, Danyal.'

'And you, priest.'

'Priest no longer. The war has come to me and I have killed.'

'We are all sullied, Dardalion.'

'Yes. But the end is very near – then I shall know.'

'What will you know?'

'Whether I was right. I must go now. Wait at the ferry!'

Danyal and Kai found the crossing at dusk the following day. There was no sign of life and the ferry itself was moored on the far side of the river. Danyal unsaddled her horse and Kai carried the bulging pack containing the Armour into a small hut. She prepared a fire and some food, averting her eyes as Kai ate, spooning the oats into his mouth with his fingers.

She slept in a narrow bed while the monster sat, cross-legged before the fire.

Just after dawn she awoke to find herself alone.

After a breakfast of dried fruit she wandered to the river and washed, removing her tunic and wading naked into the waist-deep water by the bank. The current was swift and she had difficulty in keeping her feet. After several minutes she returned to the shore and washed the tunic as best she could, beating it against a rock to dislodge the grit of travel.

Two men rose from the bushes to her left. Rolling to the right she scooped her sword into her hand, hurling aside the scabbard.

'She's feisty,' said the first man, a short stout warrior wearing a brown leather jerkin and carrying a curved dagger. As he grinned at her, she saw he had lost his front two teeth; he was unshaven and dirty, as was his companion – a thickset man with a drooping moustache.

'Will you look at her!' said the first man. 'The body of an angel.'

'I'm looking,' said the second, grinning.

'You geldings never seen a woman before?' asked Danyal.

'Geldings? We'll show you who's a gelding,' snarled the gap-toothed warrior.

'You gutless dung-eater! You'll show me nothing but your entrails.'

Her sword came up and the men backed away.

'Take her, Gael!' ordered Gap-tooth. 'Take the sword away.'

'You take it.'

'You frightened?'

'No more than you.'

As they argued the immense figure of Kai rose behind them, his hands reaching out. His palms slammed their heads together with a sickening crack and both men slid to the ground. Kai leaned over to grab Gap-tooth's belt and with a casual flick of his arm he hurled the unconscious man far out into the river. His companion followed and both sank from sight.

Kai ambled forward. 'Bad.' he said, shaking his head.

'Not any more,' said Danyal, 'but I could have handled it.'

That night as Danyal was carrying wood into the hut, her foot crashed through a rotted floorboard and the flesh of her leg was deeply gashed. Limping into the hut she began to bathe the wound, but Kai knelt by her and covered the place with his hand. Pain lanced her leg and she struggled to pull clear of his grasp. But the pain passed, and when he released her the wound had vanished.

'Gone!' he said, his head tilting to one side. Carefully she probed the leg; the skin was unbroken.

'How did you do that?'

He lifted his hand and pointed to the palm.

'Vrend,' he said. Then he tapped his shoulder and hip. 'Aynander.'

But she could not understand him.

A troop of Legion riders reached the opposite bank at noon the next day, and Danyal watched as they hauled the ferry across the river. She turned to Kai.

'You must go,' she said. 'They will not understand you.'

He reached out and lightly touched her arm. 'Urbye Anyal.'

'Goodbye, Kai. Thank you.'

He walked to the edge of the trees and turned as the ferry was docking, pointing north. 'Aynander,' he called and she waved and turned to the officer approaching her.

'You are Danyal?' he asked.

'Yes. The Armour is in the hut.'

'Who was the big man with the mask?'

'A friend, a good friend.'

'I wouldn't like anyone that big for an enemy.' He was a handsome young man with an easy smile and she followed him to the ferry. With the Armour aboard she sat back, relaxing for the first time in days. Then a sudden thought struck her and she ran to the rear of the ferry.

'Kai!' she shouted. 'Kai!'

But the forest was silent, the giant gone.

Aynander! Waylander.

The giant had cured him. That's what he had been trying to tell her.

Waylander was alive!

The Keep held the enemy at bay for five days before the bronze-headed battering ram finally cracked the timbers of the gates. Soldiers swarmed forward, tearing at the wood with axe and hook, ripping wide a gaping entrance to the Keep itself.

Beyond the gates, in the portcullis archway, Sarvaj waited with fifty swordsmen and a score of archers. The last of the arrows lay before the kneeling bowmen, and these they loosed as the gates opened and the Vagrians filled the breach. The enemy front line fell as the shafts sliced home, but more warriors pushed forward with shields held high. The bowmen retired and Sarvaj led his swordsmen in a wild charge, blades flashing in the light streaming from the ruined gates.