"You knew!"

"I did," Ken answered instead.

Arthur wheeled. "You?"

"Yes, but Panopilis knew about the military part. I believe it's been orchestrated from Verd since we met de Markand and his men."

That part Arthur understood, had in fact suspected, but for some reason he'd assumed Ken didn't know. Something nagged at his mind. "The military part?"

"Yes. There was one thing I had to take care of. They really don't belong here."

Arthur glared back. "That stinks of involvement," he said. He stared at the newly arrived forces slamming into the broken enemy. He wasn't an expert, but even he could see that this battle was over. Still, the enemy command was intact, and almost all of their battlemages still stood in orderly groups.

"Soon," Ken said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Soon. I think, yes here they come. I thought the detonations would show them the way."

Now Arthur could hear it as well. The wailing of hovercraft arriving from the east. A few moments later they arrived and he recognized them.

"Are you insane?" He fumbled for his handgun. "I'll kill you myself! You led the bastards here?"

"Shut up and learn!"

Arthur watched the Federation flag growing larger and larger as it carried his death closer. Even from a distance he recognized Brigadier Goodard's banners. There was something strange. He ripped the field glasses from Ken's hands and put them to his eyes.

"Bloody hell! Ulfsdotir!"

"Who?"

"She had my family killed."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Death came closer, and Arthur laughed. He had wanted revenge, but now he knew he no longer cared.

Then the hovercraft veered north, and Arthur swore he could hear a woman's wailing. "No! Wallman. I want Wallman!"

The Federation vehicles passed so close he could see the hatred in her eyes, but the soldiers were blind to him. He could as well never have existed at all. They stared north, and they sang hymns.

"What have you done?" he gasped at Ken.

"Nothing. They are of one kind. It had to happen."

Arthur stared at the hovercraft manned by Federation soldiers surrounded by an inhuman halo, and far to the north he saw the same whiteness surrounding the enemy commanders. Alone Christina Ulfsdotir stared back as she frantically tried to get the attention of the soldiers on her hovercraft.

Arthur looked at her. She had personified fear for him, and he had hated her for so long he almost forgot what it had been not to hate, but now he could only feel sadness. He had, he admitted, taken from her first. One year here had taught him about honour, and now he finally understood how stolen honour could result in a deadly reply. He would never agree, but at least he understood, and as the hovercraft headed for battle he realized he'd once again stolen something from her.

Around them silence fell over the battlefield. Moans and screams of pain cut through it, but the sound of war was gone. Those unharmed, or at least only lightly wounded, were too fatigued to be enemies any longer. The Midlands' soldiers still on the field just stood, a few still holding their weapons as support to lean on. The De Vhatic troops didn't care. They were soldiers no longer, only spectators.

Arthur gasped when long strands of fiery death flew from the battlemages, coiled around the charging hovercraft and dissipated without inflicting any harm.

Federation guns hammered in the other direction with little more success. Whatever that glaring light surrounding the combatants was it protected those covered from magic as well as modern weaponry.

Then, as the opposing sides closed, the battle split into personal duels, and Arthur stared aghast at the swirling lights of madness. What he saw was less a battle than mutual destruction. No quarter was given, none asked for, and slowly the frenzied attacks wore down the shining protections of both sides.

When the death toll rose most of the battlemages decided they had had enough, and they deserted their commanders in the middle of battle. One by one, or in small groups, they either ran for the forest or just vanished. Arthur thought those around jump mages to be the luckier ones, because squadrons of the surviving inquisition soldiers were already galloping for the trees in pursuit of the fleeing mages.

There would be another fight to the end, but that one, Arthur guessed, would be a lot more one sided. Mages feared the inquisition as much as they hated them, and for good reason. A handful of staff masters had successfully shielded the De Vhatic soldiers from most of the war magic thrown at them.

His attention was abruptly caught. Several loud detonations rolled over the field. From the northern end a huge ball of flames grew into the air, and then another one, and another.

How anyone had been able to survive that was beyond him, but when the smoke cleared he could see a few figures still standing. To his astonishment they didn't seem to notice the destruction but fell at each other's throats with a ferocity that spoke of pure rage and fanaticism.

"I think we can leave now," Ken suddenly said. "It's over and I don't want to be part of the mopping up."

Arthur glared back. "You have a lot to explain," he said.

He received a nod.

"But not now, I guess?"

Another nod.