Though he could hear nothing above the noise around him, Hawklan felt the presence of the great cloud land. He raised his sword in salute. ‘Live well, and light be with you, Ynar Aesgin, and with your soarers, riders of the high paths. May you find the peace to heal all your pains,’ he said, quietly. ‘Forgive me if I failed you.’
He swung down from Serian and gazed at the passing Viladrien for a moment in silence.
As he turned back to Andawyr, Isloman galloped up. His face was flustered and anxious. ‘Hawklan! Quickly!’ he shouted pointing to the south.
Hawklan followed the direction of his hand. There in the distance were horsemen; hundreds of them, spreading out as they approached.
‘Muster!’ he said softly, smiling as he remembered the call of the old lady he had met on his sunlit way
