Confusion filled his head, and sent down into his soul a sorrowful song that brought the blur of tears to his eyes. An old man’s song, this one. A song of all the deaths in a normal life, how they come up and then go past like verses, and this chorus that bridges each one, oh, it voices nothing but questions none can answer.

Beside him, Sergeant Kullis leaned over and, with a hard smile, said, ‘How clear the mind is at this moment, sir! The world is almost too sharp to behold!’

Havaral nodded. ‘Damn this wind,’ he then growled, blinking.

The first shade of blue appearing among the flag-stations lifted them into a canter, and they swung out, away from the skirmishers. As the horseshoe formation took shape, the foot soldiers suddenly recoiled in comprehension. The flags spun to show the deeper blue side, announcing the inward wheel and the charge.

The skirmishers had drawn out too far – Havaral could see that plain – and the pike line was still trudging at its turgid pace, only halfway down the far slope.

Havaral brought his lance down and slid its butt into the arm’s length leather sheath affixed to the saddle. He heard and felt the solid impact the end made with the bronze socket.

‘They’re all caught!’ Kullis shouted. ‘We’re too fast!’

The captain said nothing. He saw javelins launched from arms, saw lances dip to knock most of them away before they could strike the chests of horses. A few animals screamed, but now the voices of the Wardens filled the air, rising above the thunder of horse hoofs.

Borrowed anger this might be, but it will do.

Skirmishers scattered like jackrabbits.

A few hundred Legion soldiers were about to die, and the tears streamed from Havaral’s eyes, making cold tracks down his cheeks.

It begins. Oh, blessed Mother Dark, it begins.

* * *

Sevegg cursed and then turned to Hunn Raal. ‘They went too far, the fools. Who commands them?’

‘Lieutenant Altras.’

‘Altras! Cousin, he’s a quartermaster’s aide!’

‘And so very eager, like a pup off its leash.’

She looked at the captain at her side. His profile was sharp, almost majestic if one did not look too closely. If witnessing the imminent slaughter of three hundred Legion soldiers affected him, there was no discernible sign. A different flavour of command, then. Lord Urusander would never have done it this way. And yet, there is no value in questioning this. She studied her cousin’s face, remembering how that expression crumpled in lovemaking, achieving nothing so much childlike as dissolute.

On the field below, the wings of the Warden cavalry tightened their deadly noose about the skirmishers. Lances dipped, caught hold of bodies and lifted them into the air, or drove them into the ground. Most weapons took soldiers from behind.

From the corner of her eye she caught Hunn Raal’s gesture, an almost lazy wave of one gauntleted hand.