Kargan ceased his pacing and frowned, his attention on the lead merchant vessel. He was relieved to see that of the seven ships that made up the fleet, not one appeared to be blackened by flame or crippled by combat. He couldn’t see any storm damage and none of them were riding low enough in the water to be sinking.

As they made their laborious way into the harbor, the sun set completely, casting the approaching vessels into darkness. The sandy shore was still bright, lit by torches on poles, but the ships were hulking shadows as they drove up onto the bank. Kargan met Javid’s eyes and then headed down toward the water’s edge to greet the new arrivals. His ever-present guards fell in behind and lined up behind Kargan and Javid as they peered into the night. Waiting impatiently in front of the lead merchant galley, Kargan heard a series of splashes.

Suddenly a silhouette appeared and then a staggering man was revealed in the flickering light of the torches on the beach. He stumbled forward, climbing out of the shallows, and the first thing Kargan noticed was that he had a weeping red slash across his face. His leather armor, scarred by battle, marked him as a soldier, and he held a comrade in his arms like a child.

Two more soldiers exited the water, carrying a third between them. The man in the center’s face was as white as a sheet, and rivulets of sweat trickled down his face as he groaned. Looking down, Kargan’s chest became tight with horror when he saw that the wounded man’s leg had been amputated below the thigh.

They kept coming. From every boat, soldiers made their way to the safety of their homeland, and almost every one of them bore crudely-bandaged wounds. Some collapsed as soon as they reached dry land; others fought grimly to help those with the worst injuries climb the shore.

Kargan was gasping. He couldn’t believe how many Ilean soldiers had been crammed into these vessels; there must have been hundreds.

‘Get these men some help!’ he bellowed behind him and his guards leaped to follow his orders. ‘And someone tell me what in the names of all the gods is going on!’

‘Great King.’

Kargan whirled when he heard a voice behind him. He immediately recognized the officer in front of him. General Dhuma looked weary to the core, but he was uninjured, standing slumped, with his white-crested helm clutched under his arm.

‘We lost the city,’ Dhuma said. ‘Two weeks ago. Malakai . . .’ He shook his head, struggling to find words. ‘The walls fell. We were the only ones who made it out alive.’

‘What?’ Kargan’s eyes were wide with disbelief.