'Isak.' Carel approached carrying a skin of wine and some ripped pieces of bread. 'Get something into your stomach, boy, it'll give you strength.' The old man handed Isak a chunk of bread. It looked rather pathetic in his huge hand, but he recognised the need to eat something, however small.

'What's wrong, lad? Are you injured?'

Isak shook his head. He didn't know what to say. He was keeping more and more from the one man who knew him better than anyone; one of the few people he knew he could trust absolutely; it was beginning to look like there was never a good time for the truth.

'My life has become more complicated,' Isak eventually managed.

Carel frowned, then squatted down next to Isak with his sabre resting on his shoulder so he was close enough to whisper, 'What happened in the arena? Something Mihn said?'

'No, we don't have time right now – and anyway, none of it matters if we don't survive today.' The dark corner of his soul wanted to laugh. If this is all true then it doesn't matter what you do. You'll not die here unless the dark knight appears, and he won't. You know who he is already. You're just too scared to face the truth. Go and cower behind the battlements, watching others die and waiting for your time.

'And that's it,' Isak said aloud. 'There are others, and they matter. Perhaps they matter enough that the truth shouldn't be hidden.'

'Isak? What are you talking about, boy?' Carel sounded bewildered, perhaps worried Isak was losing his mind.

'Nothing.' Isak dismissed the question with a wave of the hand and stood upright again. Now that he'd made his decision, Isak felt new purpose filling him. 'Call the battle hymn. The enemy is coming.'

'Ah, Isak, lad, that's only supposed to come from Lord Bahl, from the Lord of the Farlan. They'll sing it for you, but… it'd be wrong. People might think you meant rebellion.' Carel sounded anguished as he spoke, his loyalties torn.

It seemed strange to Isak, but he knew the pride Carel set in those few lines of verse.

'Better that it would, but I am Lord of the Parian now,' The catch in his voice was unexpected. 'Carel, Lord Bahl died this afternoon. Pass the word on. Tell them to sing to Lord Bahl's honour – I'll not have a defeat as his memorial.'

The word spread quickly. The Parian soldiers seemed to sag at the news, as though the rock their lives had been founded upon was now gone. Lord Bahl had led their grandfathers and their great-grandfathers into victorious battle. He was the eternal hero who arrived bearing the vengeance of the Gods. And now he was dead. The cornerstone of their nation was suddenly, unexpectedly, gone.

Only Carel, striding amongst them, stopped men from dropping hopelessly to the floor. Whispering fiercely in the ear of one, clapping a firm hand on the shoulder of the next; one by one he roused in them the love they'd had for their Lord. In the heat of battle, their passion burned with sudden and terrible intensity. Cold fury showed in their eyes as they waited for the enemy. The battle hymn came softly from their lips. Now they were angry.

When the enemy came, it looked a final desperate attempt. Any remaining mages of the White Circle had fled in fear of Isak, but a division of Fysthrall warriors led the attack. They didn't look human in the firelight. Their blue-green scaled armour glowed eerily, and they seemed to jerk and shuffle as they raised the ladders.

As Isak watched them come to an accompaniment of the whistle of arrows, the sight of them evoked an elusive memory of glinting bodies and huge bronze war-hammers shining in the light of an unnatural fire – but he couldn't remember any more. Faces and names eluded him as the present intruded on his thoughts.

Scores of arrows kept the defenders down as the Fysthrall swarmed up to attack. White-eyes stood on the tops of the ladders while they were being raised, ready to leap over the battlements the moment wood met stone, when they started striking out with fierce abandon, brandishing their long-handled battle-axes. The first Ghost to come within range was caught in the armpit, the bronze-inlaid blade cutting deep, but it caught on the inside of his cuirass and fell with the man. The Fysthrall abandoned his axe and pulled a pair of short swords from his belt. He started trading blows with Carel before Ghosts on either side impaled him.

Elsewhere the white-eyes didn't fall so easily and brutally cut the defenders down… but the battle hymn of the Ghosts was taken up by the Kingsguard now and it echoed down the wall.

The captain of the Fysthrall white-eyes charged up and over, heading straight for Isak, screaming a challenge as he battered a path to the new Parian Lord.

Isak waited for him, sword and shield forward to meet the enchanted axes in the captain's hands. The Fysthrall white-eye roared at Isak and began to rain blows down on him. With bodies piling up on the ground and more men coming up the ladder there was little room to move, but Carel managed to slip around to cut at the back of the Fysthrall's leg. The blow glanced off his armour, but it distracted the white-eye enough for Isak to start his own attack.

Now using all his speed and power, Isak hacked away, until Eolis caught the shaft of one axe and sliced through. A burst of red appeared as the magic in the blade suddenly ran wild and, in a cloud of light, the uncontrolled energies wrapped themselves around the captain's arm. Isak heard the sizzle of burning flesh as the man cried out in pain and lowered his guard. The next blow sheared through his throat.

Isak carefully kicked the corpse off into the palace gardens and looked around, spotting Carel as the old man cried out. Throwing himself forward in controlled fury, Isak struck off the offender's arm, then smashed his shield into the man's face. The Fysthrall screamed in agony, but the cry was cut off as Eolis punctured his heart.

The enemy held a small stretch of wall now and were trying to drive a wedge through the Farlan Ghosts. Isak ploughed in, swinging wide strokes they couldn't avoid, so crowded together were they. A sword got through his guard, but was turned by Siulents, and in a heartbeat Isak had kicked out and heard the crouching man's neck snap, all the while he was stabbing through another man's breastplate into his heart.

'Isak,' King Emin called, a way behind him, 'we're being swamped. Pull back to the keep.' As he spoke, another tremor ran though the wall. Isak looked around in confusion. He turned aside the last man's sword and watched agony flower on his face as a Kingsguard stabbed him in the ribs, then stopped and opened his senses. He couldn't feel any mages in the area, but the walls shook again and he realised they wouldn't hold for much longer.

Looking over the battlements he saw the reason for the wall's shaking: a battering ram was being backed away from the wall for another run. Its brass head glowed with magic. It appeared the enemy did not trust any of the king's gates now: they would come in through the walls where no daemons were lurking, waiting to cause even more death and destruction.

Isak smiled grimly, they were probably right not to trust the gates. He cut away all the ladders he could reach again, then shouted back, 'We're going.' He turned to Carel, worried by the way the old man's face was contorted in pain and fatigue.

A horn was sounded and immediately all King Emin's men and Isak's own party turned and ran for the nearest stair. Isak gave Carel a shove, but he stumbled and was caught by one of the Ghosts, who grabbed his arm and helped him on. Mihn didn't move, waiting for Isak.

'Go, I'll follow once everyone is off,' he said, waving Mihn away, but the small man didn't move. 'Do what I tell you!' Isak shouted, wanting him clear. 'Get down that stair now!'

Mihn frowned at Isak for a moment, trying to work out what he was going to do, then bobbed his head. Til wait for you by the gate, but I'll not go in until you do.'