‘Aye. With Veradis.’

‘You are about to make another.’ He turned and poured the blood from the vial into the pot.

Pale morning sunshine and a chill wind filtered through the gates of Murias as Uthas stood and waited.

‘Make ready,’ Calidus cried, his voice filling the chamber, and for a few moments all was chaos.

This is it. The moment that the Benothi march to war alongside the Kadoshim. He took a deep breath, an effort to calm the mix of fear and excitement that coursed through him.

A hand touched Uthas’ arm and he turned to see Eisa standing before the surviving fifty Benothi warriors.

‘You are our leader, now. Lord of the Benothi,’ she said, offering him an object.

Uthas looked closer, saw she held a necklace fashioned from wyrm fangs. They were threaded on an iron chain, bound with silver.

I am not worthy. A betrayer. A murderer.

He bowed his head, allowing her to slip the necklace onto him. It was a pleasant weight upon his neck and shoulders.

‘I thank you,’ he said as he raised his head. ‘I will lead you to glory and a new age for the Benothi. We will hide in the shadows no more.’

Voices bellowed their approval and then they were moving out.

And not just the Benothi. I will reforge what was Sundered. The clans will join behind me. They must.

With a deep roar from Nathair’s draig they left Murias, the cauldron on its great wain rolling into the spring sunshine, a dozen other smaller wains strung out behind it. A thousand of the Kadoshim marched around them. At the warband’s head Nathair rode upon his draig, Calidus mounted on a Jehar stallion beside him. Uthas and Alcyon marched alongside them. Above, ravens cawed and circled, leaving their nests in Murias’ cliffs, shadowing them like a dark halo.

They know death will be our constant companion.

They followed the road that led from Murias, down a slope from the mountain and into a land of rolling moors and purple heather. Calidus lifted a hand and beckoned to Uthas.

‘I do not like the thought of Meical out there. He has too few numbers to defeat us, but he could still be plotting some mischief. I’m going to follow his trail, make sure he’s not being cleverer than I give him credit for.’

Soon after, Calidus left their warband with a hundred of the Kadoshim. Uthas accompanied them, his shieldman Salach at his side. Nathair was instructed to keep the column moving along the road. The King of Tenebral nodded, a bloodstained linen bandage wrapped around one hand. Uthas felt a wave of pity for him, remembering how Nathair had collapsed to his knees as Asroth had scoured him, searching his soul for any hint of treachery.

‘Lead us to their camp,’ Calidus ordered Bune, the only Kadoshim that had survived the rushed attempt to regain the star-stone axe. He had recovered from his injury, his severed wrist bound with leather. He raised his head, sniffing, then took off at a loping run eastwards towards a line of low hills. Calidus kicked his horse into a canter and the small host followed.