The Crown of blood

II

Udaan's body was comfortable. It was old and by no means athletic, but it was not laden with the weight of centuries. Lakhyri walked briskly through the corridors of the Grand Precincts, drawing on the memories of the body's former master to find the shortest route to the palace. He passed the long vaults where shelf upon shelf of the archives stretched into lamplit gloom; the closest records written on vellum and parchments; older testimonies scribed into wax and clay; right the way back through the ages to the darkest recesses where crude symbols were carved into bone.

The archives of the Brotherhood: hidden from all, containing the forgotten reigns of kings who ruled over lands swallowed by the seas; the names of priest-gods who had built shrines of solid gold; the wars of nations whose names had faded even from myth. Back through the centuries, the millennia, to the time when the eulanui had been corporeal and ruled the world, before the waning of their power, when the true Brotherhood had been founded as their immortal servants.

In these dim vaults could be found the ancient mysteries of men and the wisdom of the eulanui, for those who knew where to look. Lakhyri had no need of such reference. He was the embodiment of the Brotherhood, the undying foundation of its purpose. Not for more than two hundred years, as measured by the fleeting lives of normal men, had he stepped foot from outside the Temple.

That he was forced to do so now was a source of deep vexation.

His course took him down flights of stairs lit by flickering oil lamps, whose steps descended beneath the precincts to caves where the ailurs were created and the flaming fuel normal men called lava was concocted. And it was in those deep caverns that the Brotherhood toiled at its other duties, which none save the king and the highest members of the Brotherhood knew.

Striding along a colonnade, Lakhyri came out into the sun. He stopped as the light and warmth hit him. Even through the mask and the robes and the hood, he could feel the summer seeping into him. He looked up with golden eyes and saw a bright blue sky, spotted with wraiths of cloud, and almost directly overhead the gleaming orb of the sun itself.

A doubt entered his thoughts as he walked down the wide flight of steps at the front of the Grand Precints. Maybe he had waited too long to make his presence felt; not just a matter of days or weeks or years, but perhaps he would have been better intervening a generation ago.

Udaan's memories guided him to a small, unadorned side door in the duskward wing of the palaces. Lakhyri could feel the Brother's presence like a tiny niggling itch at the back of his mind, for Udaan was not gone, merely placed to one side. Spirit and life were one; to remove the spirit entirely was to bring the death of the body. Essence and vitality were entwined throughout the world, from the smallest insect to the mighty eulanui. It was this secret, the knowledge of spirit and life, which the eulanui had bestowed upon Lakhyri and others like him. All life was energy, moving or trapped, active or inert, but always there, never gone.

A rap on the door brought quick attention. Two Brothers opened the small portal and bowed their shaven heads to Lakhyri as he passed into the palace. The corridor within was narrow and straight, leading directly to the throne room of the king. Two hundred paces later, Lakhyri pushed through the curtains at the far end and stepped into the main hall.

The king sat on his throne with Nemtun, Erlaan, Adral of Nalanor and several other self-important officials. Unseen, Lakhyri stopped and listened to their deliberations.

"Ullsaard still does not have Maasra," Adral was saying. "If we perhaps took ship and defended there, we could force him to a negotiation."

"Impossible," said Nemtun. "If he realises we no longer hold the Wall, he will be in Askhor quicker than a sailor jumps in a whore's bed. Whether he has Maasra or not makes no difference."

"I disagree," said Erlaan. "If he has Maasra, he has access to the Nemurians and we do not."

"We cannot defend two places at once," said Adral. "The bastard is still consolidating his hold on Nalanor. If we can get to Maasra first and raise some more legions, we can halt the momentum he has gained."

"What will Kulrua do?" asked Erlaan. "Will he at least try to fight?"

"What do you mean by that?" growled Nemtun, shifting his bulky form to face his grandnephew. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"My grandson is right," snapped Lutaar. "If you had dealt with this problem when you had the chance, we would not be where we are now. I gave you legions and orders, and what did you do? You chased Ullsaard all winter to no effect and allowed him to slip past you into the mountains."

"And you," the king rounded on Adral. "You gave up the crossings of the Greenwater without so much as an arrow loosed or a shield raised. You have fifty warships and yet you let this man walked through Nalanor without hindrance. We have given him these successes without a fight, because the two of you have failed to act."

"I have heard enough," said Lakhyri, striding to the centre of the hall. He turned his masked face to the court of the king. "All of you: leave. I will speak to the king alone."

"Who do you think you are?" said Nemtun, heaving himself to his feet. "You best remember your manners and who you address, Udaan."

Lakhyri did not dignify the outburst with a reply, but simply looked at the king. Lutaar realised something was amiss; his eyes narrowed as he looked at Lakhyri.

"Do as he says, leave us," said the king. He continued to stare with suspicion while the others departed, Nemtun and Adral continuing to voice their grumbling discontent as they did so.

Silence filled the hall as Lakhyri ascended the raised platform on which the throne was placed. He stood directly in front of the king, who watched every move like a hawk. With slow deliberation, Lakhyri raised his left hand to his mask and, reaching inside his hood, unfastened its strap. He pulled the silver mask away, revealing his own rune-etched features.

"I guessed it was you," said Lutaar. "I have been expecting a visit for some time."

"We have much to discuss," said Lakhyri. "Your leniency has been uncharacteristic. Ullsaard and the chaos he threatens must be stopped before winter comes. If he is not destroyed, it will be the end of all that we have strived to create. You cannot fail in your duty to our masters."

Lutaar pursed his lips and his brow wrinkled at the prospect.

"I understand that. I will accept whatever help you can offer. Between us we can deal with this upstart."

"We will, my brother," replied Lakhyri. "We will."