Jasaray stood, calm as ever, his hands behind him. 'I take it you haven't come to surrender?' he asked the man he believed to be Connavar.

Bane pulled clear the full-faced helm, and saw the shock register on the emperor's face. 'Where is Connavar?' asked Jasaray.

'Murdered by his brother,' Bane told him.

Jasaray suddenly laughed, the sound full of humour. 'So, in the end, I have been defeated by a boy with no understanding of battle strategy. How droll!'

'You are a brave man,' said Bane, 'and I wish I could let you live. You have any gods you would wish to pray to?'

'No,' said Jasaray.

The Seidh sword flashed in the morning sun, slicing through Jasaray's thin neck. The head fell to the floor and rolled for a few feet. The body sagged sideways and sprawled to the grass.

Bane walked back to where Fiallach lay on the ground. The big man was still breathing, though his face was pale.

'They . . . lanced my boil,' said Fiallach, forcing a smile. 'I knew . . . you were not Conn.' Arrow heads had pierced the rings of the chain mail, and lodged in the flesh beyond. The shoulder wound was deep, but the mortal blow had been struck against Fiallach's left side, where the chain mail had parted.

'You fought well, big man,' said Bane.

Fiallach gripped his arm, drawing him in close. 'Where is the king?' he whispered.

'Dead. Killed by his brother, Braefar.'

Anger brought a little colour to the dying man's face. 'And Braefar?'

'Killed himself.'

'The only good . . . thing he's ever done. Shame he couldn't have done it earlier. He was always vermin, but Conn . . . could never see it. Didn't fool me. I've always been a good . . . judge of men.' He glanced up into the young warrior's face, and forced a smile. 'Well, maybe not so good. I misjudged you, Bane.' The old warrior groaned. 'Wish . . . I could . . . be there when we march on Stone . . .'

Fiallach's head sagged back and a last, juddering breath hissed from his throat. Bane rose to his feet.

All around now the Rigante were moving among the wounded Stone soldiers, hacking them to death where they lay. Bane saw Bendegit Bran making his way through the warriors. Bane took up the reins of a wandering chestnut horse. Stepping into the saddle he rode back across the battlefield. Far to the left he could see Connavar's gelding, Windsong. It was standing now, reins trailing. Bane was glad it had survived. He touched heels to the chestnut and rode past Bran.

'Wait!' called Bran, but Bane had kicked his horse into a run.

As he moved across the battlefield soldiers stood and cheered him, waving their swords in the air, and chanting his name. He rode to the top of the hill and swung his mount to stare back at the blood-covered field of the fallen.