Long enough to see them safely across the border. That was all he asked.

They had huddled together in the corner, Orial clinging to Khassian. Her muslin dress was soaked, rain streaked her face. Rainbow eyes stared at him, wide with fright.

‘They’re slowing down,’ he said, trying to sound reassuring. It was an effort to find the words; his lips and tongue seemed locked. ‘Can’t you feel it? And the storm’s blowing away.’

Still she stared at him.

‘Your shoulder,’ she said. ‘You’re wounded.’

‘A graze,’ he said. ‘Nothing more.’

‘How far to the border?’ Khassian asked.

‘An hour, maybe more in this weather. The horses will be tired. It’s a steep climb.’

‘And if they’ve sent word ahead to warn the guards? A single rider travels more swiftly than a coach.’

‘I’m with you.’ Acir clambered clumsily on to the seat and sank back against the worn leather. ‘I’ll make sure – you get through – safely.’

The forest road is slowly, steadily growing darker as twilight falls. Dark cloudveils descend and a dense mist, soft as smoke, rolls through the black trees, blotting out the light.

Acir stumbles on into the night, not knowing which way to go, only that he must keep on, must keep on –

The thick mists swirl about his legs, numbing all feeling. He sinks to his knees, drowning in the chill, dark fog.

A flame sears the darkness.

Gazing upwards, he sees a sword tipped with fire cutting a path through the drowning fogs.

On his knees, he crawls towards the path.

A shadow figure moves before him through the darkness, fiery blade like a torch upheld to illumine the way.

Feathers of flame and smoke flicker in wings of fire.

The angel goes on before him and Acir follows his burning footprints into the night…

Someone was shaking Acir, insistently calling his name.

He regained consciousness with a start to find Khassian’s eyes staring into his, dark with concern.

‘S-sorry.’

‘Acir, what’s wrong?’

‘Just – tired. Dropped off a moment.’

The ache in his shoulder had become a slow-burning fire, spreading down his arm and into his breast.

‘That graze. Let Orial bind it for you. She’s a doctor’s daughter, after all.’

‘No.’ He shifted his position. He could not risk her touching the wound, for fear of contamination from the venom. Thunder still grumbled in the distance. ‘How – much further now?’

‘We’re almost across the plain.’

‘Ah.’ Halfway to the border. Farther away from their pursuers – but not far enough. How long could he stay conscious this time? And when the next bout of blackness overcame him, would it be the ultimate darkness, the tumbling descent into oblivion?

Orial sat silently watching him. When he looked into her eyes, he saw the glimmer of rainwater and healing springs, mingled.

He blinked, trying to clear the rainhaze from his eyes.

Must be feverish.