‘How do we know you are who you say you are?’ the old man asked, while his younger companion scratched his head.

Dion thought furiously. He had a sudden idea, and ripped the silver chain from around his neck, with the trident of Silex bound by a circle of heavy metal.

‘Here,’ he said.

The old farmer came forward and took the silver necklace and amulet. His eyes widened, and Dion knew the thoughts that were going through his mind. He could sell it in the city for a great deal of money.

‘Show Nikolas this, he knows it’s mine. Do you understand? Do you think I would just give this to you if the need wasn’t urgent?’

‘Why don’t you give it to him yourself?’ the younger farmer spoke for the first time.

‘Because I have to get to Xanthos. Please,’ Dion said in frustration. ‘This is urgent. All of our lives could depend on it.’

The old farmer made a swift decision and then turned to his younger companion, handing him the necklace. ‘Troi, go! Run like the wind!’

The younger man nodded and started to run.

Dion leaped back into the saddle. He spurred the horse forward, leaning forward on its back, his brow furrowed as he hoped desperately that he would get to Xanthos in time.

Dion cut the journey to the pass down to hours. He knew the horse was weary to the core, and that if he kept up at this pace she would collapse beneath him, but with Nikolas in Phalesia and his family exposed to the sun king’s imminent attack he pushed harder than ever before.

The steep stone walls of the Gates of Annika went by in a blur. He exited the pass and emerged into the land of hills and forest that led down to Xanthos.

He rode recklessly on the downward slope, galloping where he should be walking carefully, holding the mare by her halter.

He tried to ignore what he was seeing as he plunged down the winding hillside, wheeling around groves of olive trees and sliding on rolling gravel. His jaw was set so tightly that it ached. He kicked his heels into his mount’s ribs again and again.

The city drew ever closer in his vision. He lost track of all time as the mare scrabbled down the treacherous terrain. The walls could now be seen as separate from the structures within. The Royal Palace rose from behind, surrounded by its own walls. Dion could now make out the Flower Terrace, facing the surrounding countryside, where his mother often went to be alone. It was her favorite place.

Five hundred paces from the city walls, Dion heard a snap like the crack of a whip as the mare’s leg broke.