‘And did we not feed from the flesh of dead dragons? Perhaps, historian, if there is any truth to such legends, those brittle burned bones remain beneath the earth and snow.’

To be soon joined by countless others. Already, I see the pyre we must make. Our refuge befouled, our nest unravelled. ‘I would think, commander, on the day of battle we will hear the weeping of ghosts upon the wind.’

Silchas Ruin studied him for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Send your arrow again, historian, when next you face Vatha Urusander. It is fitting, I think, that we both bear that wound.’

High Priestess Emral Lanear cleared her throat as she edged her mount between the two men. ‘You are too generous in meting out blame, commander, to so inflict the Andii, when the cause of this rests with the Liosan.’

‘Blame? High Priestess, forgive me for misunderstanding the historian. I thought we referred to grief, not blame. In that, surely, we must share?’

‘I doubt Hunn Raal would agree,’ Lanear replied, the lines of her face stark in the pale morning light.

‘Nor,’ added Rise Herat – against the suddenly bitter taste in his mouth – ‘Lord Draconus.’

Silchas frowned. ‘Draconus?’

All too aware of Lanear’s level gaze upon him, Herat shrugged and said, ‘Repository of the highborn’s ire, obstacle to a peaceful union of the Andii with the Liosan, his refusal to engage with anyone has, as much as anything else, incited this civil war.’

‘I would not think of it that way,’ said Silchas Ruin uncertainly.

‘A cruel assessment, historian,’ opined Lanear, ‘and yet, sadly accurate.’

‘Lord Draconus is an honourable man,’ said the white-skinned commander. ‘He well comprehends the precariousness of his position. In his stead, I wager I would do much the same as he, under these trying circumstances.’

‘Indeed?’ the High Priestess said in some surprise. Then she nodded. ‘Ah, I understand. His appearance on the field… here, would prove disastrous. For us. While Hunn Raal would delight in it. If not for the opportunity to slay the Consort, then for the very real possibility of seeing the Houseblades of the highborn abandon the field.’

Herat cleared his throat, and then said, ‘Well stated, High Priestess. But we can be certain that Lord Draconus understands this dilemma. That, as you say, his sense of honour will win out over his stung pride, and so he will make no appearance, but will remain with Mother Dark.’

‘If not pride to see him unleashed, then the desire for vengeance,’ Lanear added, to Herat’s mind unnecessarily. He could see the agitation and uncertainty in Ruin’s expression. He could see, plainly enough, the doubts he and Lanear had sowed.

‘Pride is the enemy,’ Herat announced. ‘Had Lord Draconus stepped aside – had he chosen to surrender his position as Consort to Mother Dark, well, how vastly different would be this day, and those to come.’

‘And now,’ said Lanear with a sigh, ‘it is too late.’