The Crown of the Conqueror

II

Sitting in his plain chair, Lakhyri was as immobile as a statue. Only the high priest's eyes moved as he watched his followers swaying and bowing around the Last Corpse, chanting their eternal chant, hoarse voices echoing from the chamber stones. The transference from the grand precinct to the temple had been arduous; Lakhyri had been forced to sustain the ailing Kalmud with his own vitality, draining his deepest reserves.

He had hoped to replenish his strength from the temple, but the ethereal energies that sustained him were at their lowest ebb, almost consumed. Drastic measures would be required. The loss of Askhos disturbed him greatly. He felt no loss or sadness at his brother's death, but the break in the line of the Blood verged on catastrophe for his plans concerning the Askhan Empire. The usurper's dissolution of the Brotherhood was another setback, cutting off another avenue for new life to be brought to the temple.

The grand precinct had been sealed, gateways and doors barred by ancient mechanisms and powerful wards. Its secrets were safe. Yet without Askhos, without the Brotherhood, the Askhan Empire had become a folly, just another frail kingdom without purpose. The saving grace was the rescue of Kalmud and his son. While the true heir to Lutaar still lived and the Crown remained intact, perhaps there was some small chance that the plan could be restored.

A disturbance in the air, a fluttering on the edge of consciousness, stirred Lakhyri's thoughts. One of the masters was close at hand. He felt the throbbing in his gut, the tremble along his nerves of an eulanui manifesting itself. He slowly turned his head to the black block of stone and bone that was the Last Corpse. No entreaty had been made, no ritual of audience performed. What was coming through, and for what purpose?

The sickly light of the temple churned as the master coalesced, the essence of the eulanui imbuing the Last Corpse with a semblance of life.

Awkwardly, the creature rearranged its spindly limbs, unfurling from the carcass-altar. Black flesh bubbled and writhed while multi-faceted, golden eyes swept the rings of supplicant worshippers. Tendril-fingers lashed in agitation.

HUNGER.

The force of the word-concept stunned Lakhyri, blinding him, making his ears rings, his heart shudder. The runes and patterns on his skin froze nerves and muscle, burning with their coldness as life force was leeched from his flesh. Worshippers fainted, collapsing outwards like a ripple in a pool. The youngest convulsed as they fell, heads hitting hard against the stone floor, limbs twitching.

Mandibles clattered and joints creaked as the eulanui stepped over the ranks of still worshippers, feeder tentacles swaying as they tasted the air. Regaining his senses, Lakhyri studied the creature, trying to recognise it. Its bearing was upright, lordly. More than that, there was an aura of shadow about the eulanui, which seemed to glitter like the night sky. Only once before had Lakhyri seen such a thing.

The high priest caught his breath. The apparition was huayakaitoku, leader of the eulanui. Not for more than a thousand years, as reckoned by the annals of the Askhans, had the ruler of the eulanui appeared. Fear gripped Lakhyri; a sensation he had not felt in all of that time. For the huayakaitoku to risk a fully material form was a grave matter indeed.

Lakhyri toppled out of his chair, falling to his knees.

"Greatest of the great, master of the masters," he moaned. "I am humbled by your presence."

The creature's head snapped around, its golden orbs fixing Lakhyri with their insectan stare. He saw his pinched face and dread-filled eyes reflected a thousand times back at him.

FEED.

The huayakaitoku slewed away from Lakhyri, clawed appendages dancing lightly over the bodies of the fallen worshippers, secondary tongues flicking out from slits in the flesh. It quickly passed the eldest, attracted to the vitality of the newest adepts. Banded tendrils lifted up three of the acolytes, wrapping around their chests, the tips plunging into their gawping mouths, jointed finger-stalks clasping limbs and heads.

Rearing up on its hind legs, the eulanui lifted the trapped youths towards gaping mouths. The sphincter-like openings had no teeth, but fronds of whisker-like hair erupted from ridged gullets, stroking the flesh of its victims. One tiny piece at a time, the acolytes disintegrated, the energy binding them together sucked from their bodies: skin, muscle, bones, nerves, arteries and veins, livers and hearts, teeth and brains, every part drained, falling to the ground as a haze of dead cells.

When nothing was left of the three, the huayakaitoku looked again at Lakhyri. Its flesh was slicker, the light in its eyes even brighter, gorged on the essence that sustained it.

DISTANT. SACRIFICE. SEEK. KING. CHILD. RESTORE.

Lakhyri nodded in understanding, remembering the same message from the last visitation.

"It shall be as you say, master of masters," gasped the high priest. "We will pave the way."

RETURN. IMMINENT.

Immortal bones slid while stone-like flesh slipped, as the huayakaitoku returned to the centre of the chamber and collapsed in on itself, folding back into the gap between dimensions, leaving the square block of the Last Corpse lifeless and dull.

Lakhyri swallowed hard, frightened by the encounter. With groans, the collapsed worshippers stirred from their unconsciousness. Lakhyri quickly pushed himself back into his chair and assumed an undisturbed pose. His mind raced. The eulanui were getting desperate, to feed directly on their followers. What did 'imminent' mean? The empire would not be ready for years unless Ullsaard could be stopped soon.

Lakhyri shuddered again at the conclusion he was forced to draw, the image of the dissipating acolytes at the front of his mind; what he had offered the eulanui by way of trade, they would take by force if necessary.