‘What’s wrong?’

But Acir’s eyes had closed again. Khassian tried to feel for a pulse – but his clawed fingers were too stiff, too clumsy, to achieve such a delicate task.

What should he do? They were so far now from help.

He glanced across at Orial, curled asleep like a slender white cat in the corner. Should he wake her? He didn’t want to alarm her – she had withstood too many shocks already.

Suppose word had been sent ahead to the border, suppose the Guerriors of the Commanderie had been alerted to their imminent arrival?

She had risked her life to come to his rescue. He could not bear that any more harm should come to her.

The horses laboured on upwards, the fiacre wheels grinding slower and slower over the stony mountain track.

It was so dark now, Acir could hardly see. Yet where Orial had huddled up into the corner he could distinguish a faint moonlike radiance.

Aura.

Numinous aura.

He fought to keep his leadheavy lids open. Darkness clotted his sight. A cold and terrible numbness was spreading up through his whole body. A weight seemed to press upon his ribs, stifling his breathing. Only her radiance still glimmered. He centred his concentration on her.

Lotos candles glimmer on the dark waters.

Must make it to the border.

‘Hola!’

A voice hailed them from the darkness outside.

The driver reined the horses to a halt.

‘Lanterns.’ Khassian peered out of the window. ‘The border. We’ve reached the border.’

Acir tried to nod his head. It felt heavier than lead cannon shot.

‘Help – me – out –’

Khassian opened the door for him. Acir tried to move towards it; his legs gave way beneath him. Khassian climbed down, offering his shoulder as a support.

‘N-no.’ His speech slurred. ‘Stay – in the – coach.’

The lantern-light swam like light ripples reflected in water. He staggered towards the dark figures looming out of the night. It was like trying to move through black waters, each step an almost insurmountable effort.

‘Captain – Acir Korentan,’ he said. He tried to straighten his jacket, to force his hand into some semblance of a salute. ‘My friends – are travelling back to – Sulien. I – am with them – to ensure – safe passage –’

He thrust the papers towards the border guard who seemed to have a blank where a face should be.

The pain had been almost unendurable but this fast-spreading numbness was worse. Mists were slowly rising; cold, dark mists. He felt himself swaying.

Words came to him through the mist, faint, indistinct words. He struggled to keep his fading mind on the sense of what was being said. It was important. But… why…?

‘All seems in order. You can cross into Tourmalise.’

Acir shakily raised his hand to return the guard’s salute.

‘C-cross over,’ he called up to the coachdriver.

‘Come on, Acir!’ cried Khassian, reaching out to him.

Acir sank to his knees.