Aelyn looked pointedly at Hendrick. He felt the weight of their stares turn upon him, felt his shoulders hunch defensively and his heavy brow settle into a frown. He’d just lost his brother, for Sigmar’s sake, could they not give him the time to mourn?

But no, he thought; they were right, and hiding away from his responsibilities behind brooding silence was a luxury he could no longer allow himself. Varlen had always been the charismatic one, the people person, always ready with a quick quip and an easy smile to put folk at ease. Hendrick had been more of a silent partner, the menace that backed up his brother’s charm and decisive sense of purpose.

Purpose. That was a word his mind could latch onto, a star by which he could steer. Varlen’s death had to have had a purpose, and Aelyn had shown him what that was.

‘We make for Draconium,’ he said. His comrades stirred awkwardly around him. Borik cleared his throat again.

‘Hendrick, where even is Draconium?’ asked Romilla. ‘I’ve heard the name, but…’

‘Draconium is a large fortified border city located two hundred and eighty-two miles to the north of Hammerhal Aqsha, and forty miles north of where we are now,’ said Eleanora, still not looking up from her work. ‘It dominates the pass known as the Drake’s Jaws in the volcanic Redspine Range. Its thermal springs form the source of a canal that bears trade barges and troop barques through the reconsecrated lands north of Hammerhal.’

‘Thank you, El,’ said Romilla. ‘But even if we do know where it is, what reason would we have for going there?’

Hendrick looked at the priest as though she were slow of thought.

‘Varlen’s words, at the end, when they were… when he… burned. We know that they were a prophetic warning, one that he died to deliver. We are going to see that it reaches the right ears.’

‘Hendrick, we know no such thing!’ exclaimed Romilla. ‘Sigmar’s hammer, he was transforming into something unclean, gibbering like a lunatic! For all we know, his words were some diabolical utterance designed to drag us into damnation along with him!’

‘I don’t believe that,’ said Hendrick, feeling the familiar hot anger trying to well up and overwhelm his better judgement. ‘He saw things, knew things, once he put that crown on. For months before… Things he couldn’t have known. He predicted the Gor-kin ambush in the Ash Hills, didn’t he? He saw that spine-trap and stopped you treading in it, didn’t he, Romilla? Varlen was still Varlen. It didn’t beat him, not even at the end, and he was still trying to aid us even in death.’