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ELO HEARD THE SCREAMING OF THE TALICIAN PRIESTS AS the god appeared before they had called her.

They had been drawing out a final shrine to the very crest of the slope where they desired her to descend.

Too late. Elo smiled through chapped lips and bloody teeth.

Hseth had come, but at the summoning of the Middrenites. The veiga had her attention now.

Elo felt the heat of the god behind him, smaller than she had been before, slightly taller than human. He saw the confusion of the Talicians and Restish, seeing the flame down by the floodwater that deepened the broad basin of the valley.

But she was Kissen’s quarry. He had his own.

‘Keep going!’ cried Elo. ‘Do not give up! Charge!’

The Middrenites and Irisians fought well against the tide of Talicia, but their front lines were exhausted.

Elo’s body ached, his horse was faltering, sweating, and stumbling, blood dripping down its flanks.

And the Talicians still came, their numbers overwhelming, managing to keep the momentum of the high ground.

They needed the reinforcements if they were to keep up their front. Yether and Tiamh fighters were gathered to the southwest, ready for when the veiga made their move. Elo filled his lungs and blew his horn. Sharp blast, then long. Request for aid. Request for aid!

No horn sounded in response. Had they not heard him over the thunder?

He brought his sword up and down, cracking it into the skull of a Talician who had stumbled as he looked around.

Elo’s fighters were run ragged, Lessa’s cavalry too, and the Irisians, were close to being overwhelmed.

But if they faltered now, the veiga and the kings’ guard would be overrun before they could succeed.

They needed more time.