Even as Josiri wondered at the strength it had taken to bring the grunda to a halt, the beast reared up. Leathery feet flailed at Anastacia’s head.

She stepped back. Her grip shifted on the hammer’s haft and she swung it in a full, dizzying circle. Metal cracked against the grunda’s upraised head. The beast gave a final, empty bellow. Wrenching free of the chariot’s spars, it toppled sideways in a spray of dust.

Disbelieving cheers rang out from the Tressian line. They grew in volume and stridency as voices caught up with evidence of eyes. Josiri joined them, his throat thick with relief.

Anastacia strode up the grunda’s armoured flank. She seized the charioteer by the throat and hoisted him high above the ground. Then she cast him aside and raised the war hammer in triumph.

The cheer redoubled in volume. For the very briefest of moments, Josiri glimpsed a ghostly echo of black-feathered wings at Anastacia’s back. He blinked, and they were gone.

Careless of the oncoming Hadari, Anastacia dropped from the grunda’s back and rejoined the line.

[[Told you I’d a lot of repressed anger.]]

“And now?” he asked, almost laughing with relief.

[[I’ve barely scratched the surface.]]

Horns urged the Hadari to the charge.

Calenne ran until her legs were jelly and her lungs burned. She gave no thought to what lay ahead, only the horror behind. Doubled over and panting for breath, she strove to make sense of what she’d seen.

The Raven! The Raven was real. The thought set her trembling again. She spun around and stared back into the gloom.

Nothing. No sound. No movement.

Dizziness returned. With it the doubt she’d seen anything at all. Had the “Raven” been anything more than fevered imagination? She glanced at her bloodied wrist.

“He was there,” she breathed. “He was . . . Wasn’t he?”

Calenne pinched her eyes shut and tried to ignore the buzzing in her head. Water. She needed water. She opened her eyes as her breathing steadied, and noted something new.

Light.

It wasn’t much. A soft, yellowish tinge where the passage forked. Warm, even inviting. A hint of sunlight. And the Raven had said there’d been no way out . . . More than ever, Calenne grew convinced that she’d experienced a hallucination. Despair did strange things to the mind.

But not now. Not with the possibility of salvation. Even a glimpse of the sun would help . . . even if the opening was too high for her to reach. Even if a cohort of Hadari blocked her way.

There were no Hadari around the next turning. Nor was there a glimpse of the sky. There was only the light, which grew brighter with every step. A spill of rubble blocked her way, the end of a snapped lintel protruding from the mound of discoloured rock. Calenne scrambled over the stones and pressed on in search of freedom.