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‘Their hearts must be carved from their bodies,’ Hawthorne stated, no emotion in his voice. ‘They will be drawn to our power. Only we stand a chance against them.’

‘Tell us what we need to do,’ Torj said.

A muscle twitched in Hawthorne’s jaw, but he nodded.

Thea clung to every horrific word the Warsword spoke, and when he was done, she felt sick.

‘So we draw them out with our forces, surround them,’ Vernich repeated. ‘But only the Warswords attack?’

Thea’s skin crawled at the sight of the sprawling darkness amidst the ruins of the fallen kingdom.

‘That’s it,’ Hawthorne confirmed.

Vernich looked resentful. ‘You’re bad news, Hawthorne. Always have been. Nothing but chaos follows you across the midrealms.’

‘Then you’d best hope it follows me into battle too and sends this filth back where it came from.’

‘Enough,’ Torj cut in. ‘We need to brief the others.’

An eerie calmness settled around the Warswords as they went to work explaining the tactics to the commanders, who, in turn, rallied their units to them.

Thea, Cal, Kipp and about two dozen Thezmarrian warriors were under Esyllt’s direction and Thea had never been more grateful for the weapons master’s brusque nature. He spoke to them in the same manner he did back at the fortress, managing to ground them, despite the looming danger.

‘We are to act as a diversion, to give our Warswords the best shot of doing what they do best. This is no game. There are no prizes for being heroes. You follow orders. You do only as I do! You do as Icommand,’ he shouted. ‘When I tell you to charge, you charge. When I tell you to bear right, you bear right, and when I tell you to halt, you gods-damn better halt. I’ll have no dead warriors on my watch, you hear?’

The silence that greeted him was stunned, but Esyllt was clearly having none of it.

‘I said,do you hear?!’

‘Yes, Sir!’ the answer echoed back.

With the voices of her comrades around her, Thea steeled herself, for it was not nerves that raced through her now, but bright, unadulterated terror.

Esyllt looked to the Warswords and gave them a nod; his task was done, they had been briefed, though Thea doubted anything he said could prepare them for the horrors ahead.

Still in his saddle, Torj reached across and clapped Hawthorne on the shoulder. ‘We have an army to address. Or rather, you do. You know what we’re facing better than anyone.’

‘Fine,’ Hawthorne muttered.

All units looked to him, leaning in.

Thea’s heart pounded painfully as she took in the sight of him. The hardened Warsword closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, as though fortifying himself against what wasto come. Emotion crackled deep within Thea as she watched him: a mighty warrior, a defender of the midrealms.

He turned his horse in a circle to face the swell of fighters before him, and Thea couldn’t tear her eyes off him. He cut a commanding figure against the backdrop of the end of the world as they knew it. The black amour he wore fitted his broad shoulders and muscled chest like a second skin. He sat upright in his saddle, the reins looped around the horn as he struck his two longswords above his head to silence the company, the black tattoo on his hand stark in the fading light.

Quiet fell like a heavy blanket over the squadron, and Hawthorne’s silver eyes were fierce as he fixed them upon the crowd.

‘What awaits us in the ruins are creatures unlike you’ve ever known.’ His voice projected to the furthest shieldbearer. ‘Not only are these beasts capable of ripping a man in two, but they leak shadow and darkness. They can reach into a man’s soul and infect it with the same curse they bear…’

Thea’s stomach turned to iron.

‘These arerheguld reapers, ancient monsters, kings of the shadow wraiths. In my time at Naarva, I discovered that to kill one is to kill those wraiths it sired, but a reaper can only be destroyed in one way. Today, that task falls to me and my brothers alone. But we did not bring you all this way to sit idle. Your commanders have their orders. Yours are to follow them.’

Thea swore his gaze lingered on her.

‘Warriors of Thezmarr,’ he yelled. ‘Will you ride into battle with us? Will you fracture the enemy’s focus with your war cries and your courage?’

Torj beat his hammer against his shield.