Mirth dissolved into jeers as the Hadari line came about. Disciplined, overlapped shields put Josiri’s formation to shame. The glittering emeralds of Kai Saran’s armour exuded regal destiny. Not for the first time, Josiri gave silent thanks that battle had so severely thinned the cataphracts’ ranks. As for the pale-witches – the lunassera, Anastacia had called them – and their chandirin? Or the tales he’d heard of a woman wielding white flame . . . ? The grunda?

The grunda alone was enough to break their line.

“Steady!” He shouted, as much for his own benefit as for those around him. “Didn’t you hear? We’ve a serathi with us! She brought the sunlight! Don’t let her down!”

Laughter returned, this time at Anastacia’s expense more than his. She kicked his shin. [[Just what I needed to hear.]]

“You started it. Do you want to be a bringer of hope, or not?”

[[Yes.]] She stared out across the field. [[Yes I do.]]

The Hadari line quickened. The cataphracts and chandirin kept pace with the marching infantry. White flame blazed beneath the owl-banner. The grunda outstripped them all. Josiri felt the tremor beneath his feet.

“Merrik!” he shouted. “Don’t let that thing reach us!”

[[No! Save your arrows for the lunassera!]]

Masnar shot a hurried glance up and down the line. “This formation’s held together by good intentions and spittle. If that thing reaches us . . .”

Anastacia dropped her shield. [[It won’t.]]

“Ana!”

Josiri grabbed for her too late. She strode purposefully across the field, the hammer’s head raking the dust as it dragged behind. Josiri moved to follow.

Masnar seized his shoulder. “You want to kill us all? Hold the line!”

Josiri shrugged Masnar’s hand away. Throat thick with worry, he gripped his shield until his fingers ached. Do you want to be a bringer of hope, or not? How he hated those words now.

He hoped Anastacia knew what she was doing. The chances of that seemed slender as her doll’s body before the charging grunda. She didn’t run – of course she didn’t – but strode with purpose, shoulders bowed. The charioteer’s whip cracked. The grunda picked up speed. Anastacia halted and planted the hammer’s butt in the ground. In the moment before impact, she shied away, hands flung up to ward off the inevitable.

A thunderous, hollow thud shook the sky. Anastacia and grunda vanished in a cloud of dust.

“Ana!” A scraping, grinding sound drowned out Josiri’s cry. It rose in brief crescendo and fell away to nothing. The dust cloud blossomed, stinging his eyes. Then the wind gusted, bringing revelation.

Anastacia’s boots sat planted deep in twin furrows stretching back towards the Hadari lines. Her outspread hands – the war hammer’s handle still grasped between them – were braced against the beast’s massive snout. Churned soil and wheat-stalks matted her dress.