D’Averc was sorting things from the wreckage of the table. “It is a miracle that we are alive,” he said.

“Aye,” said Hawkmoon. “That noise seemed to affect inanimate things worse than us.”

“Two of the older servants are dead,” Count Brass said quietly. “Their hearts could not stand it, I suppose. They are being buried now, in case it is not possible in the morning. In the inner courtyard.”

“What of the castle?” Oladahn asked.

Count Brass shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. I’ve been down to the dungeons. The crystal machine is completely smashed and some of the stonework is cracked. But this is a strong old castle. She seems to have fared not too badly. No window glass, of course. No glass of any sort intact. Otherwise …” He shrugged as if his beloved castle had ceased to matter to him, “… otherwise we are still standing as firm as we did before.”

“Let’s hope so,” murmured D’Averc. He held the Sword of the Dawn by its scabbard and the Red Amulet by its chain. He offered them to Hawkmoon. “You’d

best don these for it is certain that you will soon have need of them.”

Hawkmoon put the amulet around his neck and buckled the scabbard to his belt. Then he stopped and picked up the swaddled Runestaff.

“This does not seem to be bringing us the luck I had hoped,” he said and sighed.

Dawn came at last. It came slowly and it came grey and chill, the horizon white as an old corpse and the clouds the colour of bone.

Five heroes watched it rise. They stood outside the gates of Castle Brass, on the hill, and their hands were On their swords, their grips tightening as they saw the scene below.

It was the Kamarg they had left, but it was a Kamarg wasted by war. The smell they had spoken of earlier was the smell of carnage, of a burnt land. For as far as they could see, all was black ruin. The marshes and lagoons had all been dried up by the fire of the flame cannon. The flamingoes, the horses and the bulls had been destroyed or fled. The watchtowers which had guarded the borders were flattened. It seemed as if the whole world were a sea of grey ash.

“It is all gone,” said Count Brass in a low voice. “All gone, my beloved Kamarg, my people, my animals. I was their elected Lord Guardian and I failed in my task. Now there is nothing to live for save vengeance. Let me reach the gates of Londra and see the city taken. Then I will die. But not before.”

Chapter Three

Dark Empire Carnage