Kezial stomped his feet as he marched through his encampment. Eleanon had insisted Kezial’s army camp on the north side of the lake which surrounded Elcho Falling.

Eleanon said it would be better. Give the Isembaardians more space.

Kezial knew differently. What it meant was that the Lealfast Nation encampment — that which had once been Armat’s encampment — sat between Kezial’s group and any possible route that Isaiah and his army, approaching from the south, might take. There was little chance Kezial could renege on his alliance with Eleanon and, in the middle of the night, decamp to join with Isaiah. The route to the west was blocked by the turbulent open channel to the sea and the citadel of Elcho Falling itself; the route south was blocked by the lake; the route to the east by the Lealfast themselves.

So Kezial and his men idled in their camp, doing little but keeping themselves fit through weapons practice and spending the rest of their days and half their nights staring at the citadel in the middle of the lake and wondering when, or if, they were ever going to see the inside of it.

Kezial had had enough. He’d been demanding to see Eleanon these past few days and only now had the summons come.

Kezial was thinking very seriously that Isaiah would perhaps have been the better option.

Even Maximilian.

But extricating himself from this alliance was going to be . . . tricky. In fact, it was likely to be quite murderous. The Lealfast outnumbered Kezial’s men, had the not inconsiderable advantages of magic, invisibility and flight, and were hot-tempered and unpredictable to boot.

Kezial felt trapped and he didn’t like it.

Eleanon had a tent in the middle of the Lealfast encampment and that was where Kezial expected to meet him. Instead, however, one of Eleanon’s sub-commanders directed Kezial to a relatively isolated spot on the shore of the turquoise lake.

There Kezial found Eleanon, sitting on a barrel of wine, contemplating Elcho Falling rising in the centre of the lake.

Eleanon looked up at Kezial’s approach, smiled, and indicated another barrel set to one side. “Sit yourself down, Kezial.”

Kezial sat, cleared his throat, and opened his mouth to speak.

“You are feeling restless,” Eleanon said, forestalling Kezial. “You feel yourself trapped, you’re thinking that Isaiah might be the better option, but you are unsure of how to ally yourself with him without being slaughtered by my command.” His smile broadened into the false and insincere. “Am I right?”

Kezial wondered what to say.

“Yes, I am right,” Eleanon said. “I do not blame you, for I doubt I would be thinking any differently were I in your position. Your options are, after all, fairly limited. Kezial, my friend, we have not had much chance to talk since your arrival. Since intuiting your concerns and restlessness, I have decided to share with you some of my plans.”

How magnanimous of him, Kezial thought.

“What do you know of Elcho Falling?” Eleanon said.

Kezial blinked, a little surprised by the question. “Little save that it is a powerful citadel, magical, that many lust after it. You, Maximilian, Isaiah, this One of whom I’ve heard spoken, the girl Ravenna who aided us against Maximilian. Doubtless many others.”

“Aye,” Eleanon said. “Many lust after Elcho Falling, and we do so because of its power, which we might want to control. Or, equally, because of its power of which we might be afraid and which therefore we seek to destroy. Maximilian thinks to control it, Isaiah likewise. The One wishes to destroy it, because Elcho Falling threatens his own power.”

“And in which camp do you fall?” Kezial said.

“I want both,” Eleanon said. “I want to destroy it and rebuild it to my own needs; to rebuild it in a manner in which it will recognise me and only me as its master.”

“Oh, so you’ve taken the easy option, then.”

Eleanon laughed. “I am going to like you, Kezial.”

“Why do you need me?”

“To aid me in my quest, naturally. I am set against everyone else: Maximilian and his allies, Isaiah, and the One.” “I thought you were allied with the One.” “Now not so much,” Eleanon said.

Kezial thought about that, and it made him nervous. Eleanon was thinking to betray the One? “You forgot Ravenna.”

“No, I have not, but I will return to her later.”

“So, you want me to help you destroy and then rebuild to your own needs this great citadel — which currently appears to have you locked out — and in reward you will now proceed to promise me the very earth. Yes?”

“No,” Eleanon said quietly. “I am going to offer you your lives, Kezial. I am going to offer you the chance to return to Isembaard, or wherever it is you wish to go, once I have Elcho Falling. That is all. Just a chance to live.”

Kezial regarded Eleanon stonily.

“I could slaughter you now,” Eleanon said quietly, and such menace came over his face then that Kezial believed him absolutely. “You try to attack me and you are dead. Every last one of you, within the hour. You try to escape now and you are dead. Every last one of you, within the hour. Agree to aid me, and you live. It is a simple choice.”

“But as you yourself said, you have set yourself against everyone else: the One, who I have heard is a great and powerful god; Maximilian; Axis; Isaiah . . . and whoever else decides to come riding over the horizon claiming a part of Elcho Falling. How can you possibly win?”

“By doing what I am absolutely best at,” Eleanon said. “Dark deception. Help me, Kezial.”

Kezial didn’t know what to think. He really wanted to know what had become of Armat’s army. It had been hundreds of thousands strong. Had Eleanon destroyed it? Or was it, as Armat had said, sitting inside Elcho Falling waiting to sally forth and —

“There is only one entrance and exit from Elcho Falling,” Eleanon said. He indicated the archway set in the western wall of the citadel. “Anyone entering or exiting has to cross over a narrow causeway through the lake. How vulnerable are they at that point, Kezial?”

Very vulnerable, Kezial thought, as am I, if you have this little trouble reading my thoughts.

Eleanon’s mouth curved in a small, cold smile. “Precisely, my friend. Very vulnerable. Of any force issuing forth, we only have to concentrate on a tiny proportion of it as it leaves the citadel.”

“The Icarii .” Kezial said.

“Mostly dead, now,” Eleanon said. “I made sure of that.” He paused. “As for any force trying to enter . . . same problem. It is forced to congregate at a single, vulnerable point. Trapped, in essence. There are many soldiers within Elcho Falling — Outlanders, Maximilian’s own men, others, but they stay there for that very reason. They’d be slaughtered.”

He shifted, reaching across the space between them and resting a hand on Kezial’s shoulder.

Kezial tensed, and Eleanon gave his best impression of a reassuring smile. “I need to touch you, Kezial. I want to show you something, and for that you need to see with my eyes, not with your useless, human ones.”

Eleanon tilted his head back toward Elcho Falling. “See.”

For a heartbeat nothing happened, then Kezial gasped. It was if the substance of Elcho Falling had vanished. There remained the faint outline of walls, but essentially the entire structure had become completely transparent. Eleanon’s vision was looking right through Elcho Falling.

Kezial could see no people, but what he did see shocked him to his core.

There was something dark and vile in the heart of Elcho Falling. It looked like a cone-shaped, twisted mountain of sinister evilness, rising from the very base of the citadel. It had roots that stretched through most of the lower levels and walls of the citadel, and right under the lake itself. It looked like a cancerous growth, as yet small, but with deadly potential.

“You are going to use that to destroy Elcho Falling?” Kezial said.

“Partly,” Eleanon said. He lifted his hand from Kezial’s shoulder, and the vision faded. “Partly, also, I am going to use her.”

Now Eleanon nodded to one side, and Kezial looked.

A woman in mid-term pregnancy stood there. Kezial thought he’d never seen a more miserable nor more bedraggled woman, and felt a shiver of shock go through him when he realised it was Ravenna.

Where was the beautiful marsh witch who had captivated the Isembaardian generals with her power and glamour?

“Ravenna has come to a sad fate,” Eleanon said. “Ishbel got the better of her, I am afraid. See those dark bloodied bands about her?”

Kezial nodded, unable to speak. He actually felt sorry for the woman.

“They are the physical manifestations of the curse Ishbel laid upon her. The curse cut Ravenna off from all her power and disinherited her unborn son from Elcho Falling and isolated her from society.” Eleanon paused. “Of course, I have altered the curse a little now. To suit my purpose.”

Ravenna flinched, and Kezial’s sympathy increased. He had thought himself trapped, but he realised that it was as nothing compared to Ravenna’s entrapment. If Kezial was lucky, he and his men might escape with some semblance of life. He doubted very much Ravenna would manage that much.

“I will be sending Ravenna inside shortly,” Eleanon continued, “in order to further my cause — and yours, too, Kezial — and to seed that disaster which shall fell Elcho Falling.”

“Then you’ll need to do it soon,” Kezial said, “before either Maximilian or Axis or even Isaiah return.”

“No,” said Eleanon. “That is not my plan at all. In fact, I am sitting here idling, and allowing you to idle, Kezial, because I very much want everyone who wants to get back inside Elcho Falling to actually get back inside. You see, Kezial, I have devised the most malevolent and devious of plans. Would you like to hear it?”

Kezial looked at Ravenna again. Tears were trickling slowly down her cheeks.

“Yes,” he said, returning his eyes to Eleanon. “Yes, I would.”