Amasai came to me, his face solemn and very tense. But he smiled, and it was like a warmth on me. “In your name, Elsha of the Quelled, and in the name of truth, I fight this fight,” he said.

I replied, loud, so all would hear: “In the name of the former High Diviner, Xavier the Fourth, and in the name of God, I await your victory.”

Then Zune stepped towards Maelmor. “In the name of the Chosen of God,” Zune said, “and in the name of our immortal traditions and our creed, I fight this fight.”

“The Chosen already celebrate your victory,” said Maelmor, and tumultuous cheering broke out from the throngs. Then Amasai and Zune mounted. But before they rode away, I went to Amasai and handed something to him. It was my Firelord’s sign, the divining eye, scratched over with my family sign.

“I want you to wear it in the battle,” I said.

He looked at me, his eyes moist, and in silence put it over his head. Then he and Zune rode back to their men, and Maelmor and I returned to the ridge.

Amasai and Zune each gave a great war cry and rode down the grim plateau. Their armies, following close behind, met and clashed. It was all confusion at first, men and horses locked in terrible conflict, the clash of steel on steel, and everywhere the sound of horses in panic, the yells of desperate men, and the screams when steel struck flesh. Sometimes the dust rose so thick and high, I could see only the swords flashing, and ghostly tumultuous shapes. And always there was the noise, the hellish noise of men and animals in war.

For an age it seemed to go on. There were times when I shut it out, retreated to a quiet inner place, to keep my sanity. But then a scream more hideous than all the rest would jolt me back, forcing me to watch. I became aware that I was gripping Lesharo’s hand so hard that my nails pierced his flesh. He seemed not to notice.

The dust from the battlefield carried to us on the wind, bringing sounds that were less confused now, more savage and desperate. Men fought in smaller groups, mostly on foot. The dust cleared a little, revealing the full horror of the fight. Dead and dying men and animals lay distorted on the ground. Men fell, and could not rise again. Some were killed where they lay, decapitated, or their hearts run through. The ground was black with blood, the air full of the stench of death and the agony of the living.