Tom Lloyd - The ragged man

'Your point's taken,' Ilumene said in a controlled voice, a tight and mirthless smile on his face. It was clear the renegade Narkang agent had been taught not to lose his cool easily. 'Just remember this,' he continued, 'you lead troops into the Ruby Tower, you'd win because you got the numbers on us. Don't let that fool you into thinking you'd be walking out alive, though, because I'll be making it my business to personally take you down before I fall.'

'We'll just have to wait for that little test,' Amber said, 'unless you want your temper to get the better of you? I doubt your master would be too happy about that. How do things work out for the disciples who disappoint Azaer?'

Ilumene laughed. 'Don't know much of the Brotherhood, do ya? The mission's everything. If you're invading Narkang you'll be finding that out soon enough. Dumb little children, most o' them might be, but there's no doubt they're damned well-trained.'

'I'll bear that in mind. Now, if you're intending to enjoy Menin hospitality any longer, you'll be telling me your master's goal.'

Ilumene shook his head. 'That's not my call, just as you ain't got permission to tell me what your lord's up to. Let's just say we've got a bit o' revenge planned.'

'Revenge?' Amber took a step back and turned to spit on the ground. 'You best spin me something better than that – 'less it's revenge against all the Gods, I don't buy it. It doesn't fit what you're up to, and if that's what I report to Lord Styrax, he'll laugh at me and take offence at you.' He smiled. 'I imagine you can guess how he expresses his displeasure.'

'Okay,' Ilumene said with a scowl, 'so our scores ain't the main goal, sure enough. I can't tell you much – can't – you get me? Just as you can't choose to tell me why priests of Karkarn are meeting nasty ends recently – aye, we've noticed that too. So far we're the only ones paying attention to the patterns amidst the chaos, but don't kid yourself that'll last through winter. All I can say is the master reckons there's space for a new player among the immortals of the Land.'

Interesting; he said immortals, not Gods. 'A new player? Azaer's been playing for a while, so I hear.'

'But on the lower Heartland board,' Ilumene argued, 'not the board of the heavens. The game'll continue, just with some pieces moving in different ways.'

Amber got the message. Heartland played on two boards: the main board, where the bulk of a player's pieces moved, but a second, smaller board, known as the heavens, where the most powerful pieces were. A player had to play both, with different ploys, or find themselves disastrously caught out.

'My lord may require more.'

Ilumene cocked his head to one side. 'A shakedown, is it? Well, let no man say my master ain't accommodating. How about a gift, to prove our enduring friendship?'

'What sort of "gift"?'

'One your lord will appreciate.'

Amber gave Ilumene another jab. 'We'll have less of the secretive crap.'

'Not a fan of surprises, eh? You the sort of kid who'd search the house for presents on his birthday? As you wish. It's a Crystal Skull.'

Amber blinked. 'Ah. Good.'

'Good? Bloody generous is what it is. I don't know, you try and do something nice…' Ilumene gave a theatrical sigh.

'Which one?'

Which one? You're a picky bugger, ain't you? Is sir a connoisseur of the apocalyptically powerful artefact? Does sir want to peruse the selection out the back instead? Skull of Time? Pah, waste of it, more like!'

'I'm waiting.'

Ilumene threw up his hands and called up to the sky above, 'You made this one impatient, didn't you?' He cleared his throat noisily. 'It's the Skull of Song, Major Amber – don't believe that's been ticked off Lord Styrax's list now, has it?'

Amber ignored the question. 'And what's the price of this gift?'

'It's a gift, there's no price,' Ilumene said with a grin. 'What sort o' birthdays did you have? Now it might so happen we know the location of another, one you don't, and for that, we might want your boss to make sure we get the leftovers once he's finished his sweaty exertions. I reckon he'll realise by that point we'll both need allies, and it'd be a damn sight better than the alternative, namely Lord Larim getting his sticky little paws on them.'

'And when will this gift be delivered?'

Ilumene smiled and turned away. 'All in good time, Major Amber,' he called over his shoulder, heading back to the shade of the valley. 'All in good time.'

They arrived at Moorview early in the ghost hour, just after sundown. Tairen Moor was a place of vibrant colour in the summer months, with great swathes of purple heather and yellow gorse carpeting the distant hills. It was a far cry from where the forest reigned in Llehden, forty miles away on the north edge of the moor. The moor was a long, shallow slope that ran northeast from this point for sixty miles and southeast for longer, studded by small hills and outcrops of granite. Doranei had travelled this way many times, and he always saw Tairen Moor as a rampart, protecting a dozen small towns and villages clustered in the crook of the moor from distant Helrect. They avoided civilisation, all of them sensing the mounting tension in Isak as they headed towards battle. Though Mihn did his best, it would take more than songs and stories to ease the white-eye's fractured mind, where the memories of Lord Styrax's blows remained fresh.

At the first picket Doranei showed his golden bee device and warned the soldiers not to interfere with those following him. The lieutenant got the message and ordered his men to clear the path leading up to the castle. They watched with curiosity as the small group passed. Doranei could almost taste the sense of apprehension in the air above the camp, like a storm building as the Menin marched closer. While the soldiers didn't know who was being ushered through their lines to an audience with the king, Doranei was far from alone in feeling a prickle run down his neck as Isak Stormcaller once more walked amongst them.

And just like Scree, Doranei realised, the brewing storm will be more ferocious as a result of his presence. He shook his head sadly and looked around the troops assembled: as large an army as King Emin had led in decades. There were twenty thousand men already, and that was expected to double at least before the Menin arrived.

This is our last chance – our last stand. Perhaps ferocity is what we need, a storm so terrible no invader can overcome it.

The witch of Llehden and Major Jachen led the way up the path towards Moorview Castle, the witch's fierce stare enough to turn away curious eyes. Isak, Legana and Mihn followed, with the two soldiers, Marad and Ralen, bringing up the rear. Hulf walked beside Isak, padding along with heavy paws after an exhausting day chasing butterflies and other interlopers, and guarding his flock. Isak trudged on, unmindful of everything, his arms held tight around his body, as though cringing from the curious faces.

Morghien had left them in the night, pushing on to reach the king as soon as possible. Doranei thought the strange wanderer had been missing something for a long while now, some inner fire that Doranei had grown used to seeing. The Brotherhood knew Morghien to be irascible and complaining, but he shared the same dark humour. Coran had told him the man had been changed by the sundering he'd performed to free King Emin of Death's influence. But now, Doranei thought, something of Morghien's spark had been restored – though he had raged and sworn with a playwright's invention two days previously, the day Morghien had discovered Isak alive – or at least, not dead – some part of his former spirit and energy had returned. The man of many spirits might have his reservations, but before, he'd lacked the strength even to argue properly.