And yet Corban knew it was more than the mad delusions of a handful of fanatical warriors. Meical was one of the Ben-Elim. Corban had seen him in the Otherworld, transformed with white wings and eyes that blazed, but still most definitely Meical. And more than that, he had seen Asroth. Spoken with him. Asroth had been in no doubt that Corban was Elyon’s chosen, had been quite prepared to cut Corban’s heart out. He shuddered at the memory, a faint echo of the terror that had filled him.

Asroth wants me dead.

Hooves drummed louder and he turned to see Meical spurring his mount to join him. Gar and Tukul rode with him, Balur jogging beside them.

Corban sighed and slowed a little, dropping back to them.

Here it comes.

‘What are we doing?’ Meical asked him.

‘Giving ourselves space – time. I would not throw us into battle without thought.’

‘Time is something we don’t have,’ Meical said. ‘Asroth is moving. He has been planning for this war for hundreds of years, and now he is striking. We do not have the time to ride back and forth like this. You must lead us.’

‘That is what I am trying to do.’

‘No, you are hesitating, undecided, and it will achieve nothing.’

Corban felt a flash of anger at Meical’s words, mostly because he knew they were true. His eyes flickered across the others, all watching him keenly.

‘We should turn and fight. Ride through Rhin’s warband,’ Meical told him.

‘And how many of our own would die? It is not a decision I would lightly make.’

‘Aye, well, decisions must be made, and they all have their consequences. You chose to ride south, and that means riding through the heartland of your enemy. It means blood being shed.’

‘That is what I am worried about,’ Corban muttered. ‘Your blood? Their blood?’ He gestured at the few hundred following behind them.

Meical sighed. ‘Corban, this is the God-War. It is inevitable that oceans of blood will be spilt by the time it is over. All that matters is that Asroth is defeated. So, yes, I am prepared to see my blood shed, your blood, and the blood of all those riding with us to achieve that aim. It is all that matters.’

Corban thought about that a while, looking back at the faces who would follow him blindly into battle and beyond – into death – if he required it of them.