The valley was dark with churned mud, charred grass and corpses. A constant roar, muffled by distance, reached them. It was made up of screams, yells, the clash of weapons and shields, and the boom and crack of magic. Five white figures faced five black ones across the valley. The air between them flashed and writhed. Great scorch marks littered with corpses indicated where their sorcerous battle had spilled past protections.

Leiard remembered other battles. Smaller ones, but just as gruesome. They were not his memories, but they were vivid. Sorcery and death. Waste and pain. He saw that there were new elements to this battle. Black beasts—the vorns Auraya had once described—roamed through the Circlian army, deadly and hard to kill. Siyee wheeled and dived above the heads of soldiers and sorcerers. Smaller black shapes harried them, tearing their wings or attacking in numbers to drag their victims to the ground.

As he watched, three Siyee dived out of the aerial battle to swoop over the heads of the Pentadrians and send down a faint rain of missiles. One Siyee then fell as archers sent a volley of arrows in reply, but they had left several victims behind them.

Yet each death was devastating to the Siyee. There were so few of them.

I have to hope the Circlians win, he thought suddenly. Or this may be the end of the Siyee.

The greatest tragedy is that they are here at all, Mirar said darkly. This will be your former lover’s greatest crime: to make a peaceful people warlike and lead them to extinction.

“So here we are. What do you make of this, Leiard?”

He turned to find Arleej standing beside him.

“Foolishness,” he replied. “Waste.”

She smiled grimly. “Yes, and I agree. But what do you make of the two armies? What are their strengths and weaknesses? Who will win?”

Leiard frowned and considered the battle again.

“It is a typical confrontation. The sorcerers fight from the back, protecting their army from magic as well as themselves. The stronger of the minor sorcerers remain with them, adding their strength.”

“You mean the White?” Jayim asked. “And the priests and priestesses.”

“Yes,” Leiard replied. “Those whose role is more physical than magical fight their own battle, hoping always that the sorcerers will protect them. Soldiers, archers, mounted fighters, war-platten drivers, Siyee, vorns, the black birds. They may not have strong Gifts, but they will use what they can.”

“The Siyee are like archers,” Jayim said. “Flying archers.”

“Yes,” Arleej agreed. “They’re relying on surprise to attack and get away before the Pentadrian archers have time to retaliate.”

“Which is the same strategy the vorns are using,” another Dreamweaver noted. “But they don’t have anything like the black birds to deal with.”