Tattersail stared at the huddled man, a sudden welling of tears behind her eyes. Ignoring the marine, she strode into the aisle. The stench hit her like a wall. Damn, she thought, he's been here since the battle. Five days. The sorceress came closer. Though Bellurdan knelt, his head came near to her own height. The Thelomen High Mage still wore what was left of his battle garb, the ragged strips of fur scorched and torn, the rough weave of fragments of tunic stained with blood. As she arrived to stop before him, she saw that his neck and face were covered in burn blisters, and most of his hair was gone.

'You look terrible, Bellurdan,' she said.

The giant's head slowly turned. Red-rimmed eyes focused on her face. 'Ah,' he rumbled. 'Tattersail.' His exhausted smile cracked the charred flesh of one cheek. The wound gaped red and dry.

That smile almost broke her down. 'You need healing, old friend.' Her gaze flicked to the burlap sack. Its surface crawled with flies. 'Come on. Nightchill would bite your head off if she could see you now.' She felt a trembling steal into her, but grimly pressed on. 'We'll take care of her, Bellurdan. You and me. But we'll need our strength to do that.'

The Thelomen shook his head slowly. 'I choose this, Tattersail. The scars without are the scars within.' He drew a deep breath. 'I will survive these wounds. And I alone will raise my love's barrow. But the time is not yet right.' He laid a massive hand on the sack. 'Tayschrenn has given me leave to do this. Will you do the same?'

Tattersail was shocked to feel the surge of anger rising up in her. 'Tayschrenn gave you leave, did he?' To her own ears her voice sounded brutal, a harsh grating of sarcasm. She saw Bellurdan flinch and seem to withdraw, and a part of her wanted to wail, to throw her arms around the giant and weep, but rage possessed her. 'That bastard killed Nightchill, Bellurdan! The Moon's lord had neither the time nor the inclination to raise demons. Think about it! Tayschrenn had the time to prepare—'

'No!' The Thelomen's voice thundered down the aisle. He surged to his feet and Tattersail stepped back. The giant looked ready to tear down the walls, a desperate fire in his eyes. His hands closed into fists. Then his glare fixed on her. He seemed to freeze. All at once his shoulders slumped, his hands opened, and his eyes dimmed. 'No,' he said again, this time in a tone filled with sorrow. 'Tayschrenn is our protector. As he has always been, Tattersail. Remember the very beginning? The Emperor was mad, but Tayschrenn stood at his side. He shaped the Empire's dream and so opposed the Emperor's nightmare. We underestimated the Lord of Moon's Spawn, that is all.'