The Dusk Watchman

CHAPTER 8

Nai looked in the direction from which the winged daemon had come. The awkward little thing was warm, but entirely motionless; it felt odd sitting on his hand. Its wings hung limply over the sides as though it were dead.

Images blossomed in Nai’s mind: dark snapshots of the Land around them and the creatures that walked it. Here and there he saw distortions, uncomfortable blurs of darkness he guessed were daemon-spirits on the border between realms. Further in the distance were pinpricks of light, farmsteads and villages, all hiding behind a haze of enchantments thrown up by witches and minor mages, hastily done and of varying degrees of effectiveness.

Beside him Nai sensed the large presence of Amber. The big Menin didn’t speak; he knew to let Nai finish before questioning him. It wasn’t clear whether Amber fully comprehended his new situation, but Nai saw no reason to press the matter. Amber understood the journey, the simple purpose of travelling, and he appeared content to take refuge in that while his mind recovered. Taking Nai’s orders was easier than remembering what he’d lost, whether or not they were headed towards the man who had nearly broken Amber’s mind.

‘Amber,’ Nai said eventually, ‘the daemon has seen another traveller.’

‘Menin?’

‘I doubt it; it’s a woman, and a strange one at that.’

‘How?’

‘There is some trace of the Gods on her, but a daemon too. But she’s safe from what we’re keen to avoid: her soul is owned already, and nothing out here intends to compete.’

‘Necromancer?’

‘No, Amber, I don’t think so, but you never know your luck,’ Nai said, at last turning to face him.

A thick growth of white-streaked stubble highlighted the biggest of the scars on Amber’s cheek, a sword-cut. His expression was taut, the face of a man anticipating pain. His loss of both of his life’s purpose as well as his name loomed large, always poised to descend on him again.

‘Let’s go and find out,’ Nai said at last.

Alterr was bright, and they were travelling through open pastureland for the main. With the small daemon to guide them the pair moved quickly.

‘She’s near,’ Nai said less than an hour later, pointing to a humped rise studded with boulders. They followed a rabbit run, the closest thing they had seen to a path all day, and on the other side Nai motioned for them to move more cautiously.

Amber instinctively reached for his sword, but Nai grabbed his arm before he could draw it. ‘We’re not here to fight,’ he whispered. ‘You might provoke her into shooting you if she’s got a bow.’

Fifty yards past the rise they smelled smoke on the breeze: a small fire was burning somewhere nearby, though it was currently hidden from view somewhere in the small copses of silver-leaved ash and young oaks that dotted the ground. They could see nothing in the shadows, but anyone who was surviving out here on their own was more than likely aware of their presence already, Nai mused. They moved slowly, carefully, until at last they spotted an orange glow reflecting off the surrounding tree-trunks, though Nai rightly guessed the fireside would be empty.

He motioned for Amber to wait for him and went on ahead. After a dozen more paces a voice called out from the darkness off to his right, ‘That’s far enough. Who are you?’

Nai froze as he turned to face the blank shadows: she’d spoken in Farlan, and something about her voice was familiar. A woman out in the wilds alone, smelling of Gods, most likely indicated a devotee of the Lady, but the daemon’s touch narrowed the field hugely.

‘A traveller, like yourself,’ he ventured.

‘You don’t look much like me.’

‘But maybe you recognise me all the same?’ He explained, ‘I’m a mage, I did a bit of scouting the ground and found you out here, wearing the perfume of Gods and — ah, something else. If you are Farlan and were once a devotee of the Lady, it might be that once we met.’

‘Go on,’ she prompted as he paused.

‘Were you once employed by the Certinse family, or perhaps the Tenash?’ he asked.

A shape appeared from the darkness: a muscular young woman with short hair, wearing a scowl of contempt. ‘Fucking necromancers,’ she said at last, ‘you really are like cockroaches.’ She did have a crossbow to hand, but she pointed the weapon at the ground.

Nai gave a little bow. He was used to the scorn; it came with the territory, and he’d found a little self-directed humour worked far better than his former master’s disdain. ‘We are an adaptive breed, I like to think. Am I right in thinking we’ve met before, then?’

‘Aye, you were Isherin Purn’s servant — the one with the weird feet, right? I remember some about you too. Your name’s Nai?’

‘Indeed. I trust everything you heard was delightful and complimentary?’ Nai said with a grin, easily falling back into his obsequious, I am harmless routine.

‘Cockroach summed it up pretty well actually.’ She looked past him to where Amber was standing. ‘Who’s this one?’

‘My companion’s name is Amber. Might I know your name?’ He wasn’t positive, but he thought perhaps the woman’s grip on her crossbow had tightened at the mention of the Menin major’s name.

‘My name’s Ardela, and as it happens, I’ve heard of both of you. Seems we’re both heading out of Byora at the same time, and probably for the same reason.’

‘The regrettable change in leadership?’

Ardela snorted. ‘Not my reason, but your friend’s Menin so I’m guessing there are people in Byora who’d be keen to kill us both — perhaps all three of us, since your lot are rarely welcome anywhere, necromancer.’

‘Need I point out the circumstances of our first meeting? I don’t think you should get so comfortable up there on your moral high ground.’

For a moment a look of pure, savage anger crossed her face and in that instant Nai imagined the thump of a quarrel hitting his stomach. He actually took a pace back before he caught himself.

‘Don’t push me.’

A brief crackle of energy danced across Nai’s callused knuckles. ‘Good advice for us all,’ he said coldly, before pointedly dismissing the magic at his command.

Ardela stared at him for a long while, then nodded. ‘Aye, maybe. So in the spirit of sharing, how about you tell me why you’re heading west when, if there’s anything left of the Menin armies, they’ll be retreating in the other direction.’

‘First things first,’ Nai said. He moved a little closer and lowered his voice. ‘My companion isn’t quite the man he used to be. I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention whatever happened out west, or any effects of a spell that might have been done.’

Ardela said thoughtfully, ‘Grieving his lord?’

‘It is rather more than that,’ he said, wincing. ‘In that army men are allowed to use an alternative name if theirs might be associated with some family shame, or if it might attract attention because of being named after some distant relation.’

Ardela’s eyes widened. ‘Damn,’ she said eventually, ‘that must have hurt.’ She stared at Amber, who was just far enough away not to be able to hear their words.

‘The Gods themselves reaching into your mind and tearing out your name? Yes, I suspect it might have. In any case, his mind is still fragile. I have worked hard to salvage it, and I would prefer that not to be undone.’ Nai hesitated and glanced at her cross-bow a moment before continuing, ‘In answer to your question, I’m taking him west to King Emin, whom I hope is your ally.’

‘And if he had turned out to be something different?’ Ardela asked. ‘You risked a bolt in the belly there.’

‘If your allegiance had lain elsewhere, your bow-string would have snapped before you could aim it; trust me on that.’ Nai smiled unpleasantly at her. ‘As it is, I’m guessing the delightful Legana told you about us. She’s met us both, and whatever your past — ah, exploits, they still took place within the Farlan sphere. If there were other walkers in the dark involved in events, I’d know about it — indeed, I’d most likely be on their side.’

Ardela frowned. ‘You’re selling him like a piece of meat? Can’t say I’m surprised, but I don’t see why the king will care enough to buy.’

‘I’ll just have to take my chances on that. Does my story buy us a place at your fire though?’

‘I suppose so. If Ruhen sent someone I know after me it’s not to hunt me down, and they’re a suspicious bunch back in Narkang. I’ll let them figure out any ruse you might come out with and in the meantime just be glad of the extra swords. You wouldn’t believe what I saw out walking last night.’ She sniffed. ‘Well, you might, I suppose.’

‘Indeed I might,’ Nai beamed, ‘and if you’ve got any booze I’ll even tell you why it’s happening, too.’

He beckoned for Amber to join them and the big man trudged forward without comment. Nai watched as Ardela waited for Amber to reach them first, sized up the soldier and then turned her back on him just as he came within arm’s reach. Ardela was particularly muscular for a Farlan woman, but she was still the better part of a foot shorter than the heavily built soldier. For his part Amber didn’t appear to have noticed anything.

Soon they were settled around the small fire, with Nai watching Ardela and Ardela scrutinising Amber, who stared blankly into the flames, snapping out of it only when Nai shoved a chunk of bread into his hands. The big soldier grunted and tore at it with his teeth, not even bothering to pull out his waterskin to soften it, as most people would do.

‘So the heavily armed soldier is a prisoner,’ Ardela commented, ignoring Nai’s wince.

Amber grunted, but that was more confirmation of their circumstances than Nai had seen from the man thus far.

‘You wearing a dead man’s bag round your neck, or some other sort of enchantment to stop him slitting your throat?’

Nai nodded as Amber swallowed down the rest of his bread.

‘Maybe I’m just waiting,’ Amber announced abruptly, his Menin accent making the Farlan words sound thick and heavy. ‘Maybe there’s someone else I want to kill more.’

To Nai’s surprise Ardela agreed. ‘I can see why you would. You won’t find me standing in your way, but others will.’

He turned to face Ardela. ‘I’ve got nothing else,’ he said, and Nai caught a glimpse of kinship on her face.

‘Legana’s got a few things to say on that subject,’ she said. ‘Go and speak to her first. Necromancer, the first watch’s yours.’ She pulled her cloak over her and settled down, her head on her pack, to sleep.

Isak eased his head up off the bed and tried to look around. There was pain, but it felt distant, as though he were feeling someone else’s injuries rather than his own. The room beyond the carved bedposts was dim and blurry. For a while he could make out nothing more than he was alone, then a faint huff of breath from somewhere over the edge of the bed reassured him of Hulf’s presence. A chill settled on his skin, a memory of his dreams that had again been of the lakeside in Llehden.

But now it’s someone else’s dream, he thought, too tired for relief or satisfaction at the notion. I’ve cursed another with my nightmare. He’s the one who wakes up in the cold house beside the lake now, unable to remember who he is.

He tugged away the blankets wrapped tightly across his chest. Even now the fingers of his right hand looked strange, as if they belonged to another man; these awkward, uneven hands weren’t his; they were just what he had to put up with now. There were stubby ridges where his fingernails had been torn out in Ghenna. They were growing back, but who knew if they would eventually hide the runes carved into the skin underneath? Isak hoped the daemon-script and incantations might yet be put to service: he felt their presence constantly, a warm, insidious tug on his soul that was for ever urging it away from the mortal shell he inhabited.

On the far wall a door opened. Isak’s hand quested unbidden across the wide bed and closed around the grip of Eolis. He blinked hard to try and clear his eyes, but he succeeded only in sparking a wave of dizziness and nausea that forced his head back down onto the pillow.

‘Awake at last,’ Mihn said, appearing at his bedside. He placed a hand on Isak’s chest to stop him trying to rise. ‘How is your arm?’

While Isak screwed his face up in thought, Hulf jerked awake and pounced on Mihn, driving him in his enthusiastic greeting. Eventually Mihn managed to work his way around the powerful dog, tugging his sleeve from Hulf’s teeth with a chiding tap on the nose.

The white-eye raised his arm and saw Mihn lean back from Eolis’ lethal edge, then realised he meant his other hand. With Mihn’s help he freed himself from the blanket and as he raised it he realised where the greater part of the pain in his body was coming from.

‘It hurts,’ he mumbled, looking at the clean white bandage that covered his entire forearm, elbow to thumb. In the weak light it blended neatly with the lightning-bleached skin of the rest of his arm.

Mihn smiled. ‘It would. You really are a bloody fool sometimes.’

He took Isak’s hand to support the arm and gently removed the pin holding the bandage tight. After carefully unwrapping it part-way, he inspected the skin of Isak’s wrist, then continued to expose the greater part of the wound. Isak caught a glimpse of red, blistered lines and blackened skin, then the memory rushed back hard enough to make him moan with pain.

‘Cauterising your own wounds, having let a daemon-hound chew on your arm?’ Mihn said with a disbelieving shake of the head. ‘So at least some of the madman I knew remains.’

Hulf, determined not to be left out of proceedings, hopped up onto the bed and clambered across Isak’s legs until he reached the far side. Isak twitched, and watched Hulf’s forward-flopped ears prick up. The dog had patches of pure white on his belly and running down the inside of each leg since the ritual: hidden under the thick fur were the same tattoos the Brotherhood and the Ghosts now sported. The dog was completely unperturbed by the magic bound to his skin; he was adapting already, using his new skills to hunt in the forest, and gleefully stealing from soldiers’s tents.

He moved his foot under the blanket again and Hulf pounced, slamming his front paws together, then wrapping his jaws around the prominent hump that was Isak’s blanket covered toes.

Isak smiled weakly. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

Now Mihn laughed out loud. ‘It always does, my friend, no matter how many times we tell you to leave the thinking to the rest of us. At least you heal quickly — all you white-eyes do. Daken is demanding to be helped to the nearest whorehouse to check everything still works, and he was as near as dead after the attack.’

‘Couldn’t the whores go to him?’

‘One would think,’ Mihn agreed. ‘Perhaps it is a matter of pride for the man? Or pethaps he just has not thought of that yet.’

Isak focused on Mihn’s face: there was something different about it. Eventually he realised there was a long, shallow cut down the side of Mihn’s head. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Mihn actually injured, but could not think of a single instance. ‘One got you,’ he said at last, pointing as best he could.

‘The dangers of your company, my Lord.’

‘Don’t remember seeing that ever, you catching more than a bruise.’

‘You have not been present for most of my fights,’ Mihn said. ‘This is far from my first injury.’

‘Less than your fair share, though. They must have been desperate for revenge if one got that close.’

‘You flatter me.’ Mihn said with a smile.

Isak sat in silence for a while, then raised Eolis again. ‘Take it. They’ll come again.’

‘No. You killed your jailer, the one who had my scent and carried my bond.’

‘Please.’ Isak sighed and closed his eyes. ‘I’m so tired — tired of this all. I don’t have the strength to carry Eolis any longer. But you, you’re worthy of it. They’ll not get so close again, not if you were wielding Eolis.’

‘I want that burden even less than you,’ Mihn said gently, pushing Isak’s hand away, ‘and I shall not break my vow again. Whatever claim you have on my soul, you cannot order me to do that. There are others more worthy than me, soldiers who will see it more properly used.’

‘Who? It’s tied to my soul — who else could I trust with it?’

‘Vesna, Lahk — there are many here you can trust, and now there are hundreds who wear my tattoos and are just as bound to you as I am.’

Isak felt sadness wash over him. ‘No, none are as bound as you,’ he said, feeling tears of shame threatening in his eyes. ‘None whose soul I’ll spend again and again.’

‘Enough of that,’ Mihn said firmly. ‘I never wanted to go down in history, but if that is the price of success I will pay it gladly.’

‘You will pay it, Grave Thief,’ Isak muttered, ‘and for that I’m sorry.’

‘Isak, enough! Your share is more than any man or woman should ever have to bear. There are no apologies to make, all right? Now, can you get up? King Emin is leaving soon.’

Isak nodded and sat up on the bed, wincing. ‘Where’s he going?’

‘South; there is one Menin army undefeated on Narkang lands. His intelligence says they have occupied a town and are holding position — they have no plan, but they are showing no interest in surrender, and none of the local forces are strong enough to dislodge ten thousand Menin veterans.’

‘While we go north,’ Isak commented, easing his bare toes onto the rug below his bed. He was in Moorview Castle’s royal suite, a grand bedchamber reserved for the king, but Emin had insisted Isak take the room. There was a second smaller bed for Mihn in the far corner, and an enormous wardrobe covering most of the right-hand wall, but all Isak cared about was the enormous oak bed that looked as if it had been built for a white-eye of his size and weight.

As soon as his feet were on the ground Hulf jumped to the ground and gave each foot a cursory lick before darting towards the door.

‘I’ll dress myself,’ Isak said, watching the dog. ‘Go and let him out before he ruins any more of this rug.’ He pointed to a tasselled corner that was now well chewed.

Mihn encouraged Hulf out after him and left Isak in peace. The white-eye dressed slowly, wincing as he slipped on his tunic. He was fumbling ineffectively at his boots when Mihn returned to help.

Once dressed he belted Eolis around his waist, alongside the leather bag containing the Skull of Ruling, and headed out into the bustle of the main part of the castle. Isak was forced to acknowledge two dozen salutes and bows, from men of the Kingsguard and Brotherhood for the main, before he reached the half-moon-shaped hall where the king was directing proceedings.

‘Isak,’ King Emin called, coming to greet the stooped white-eye with a warm smile. ‘Your powers of recovery never cease to amaze me. It’s good to see you upright, my friend — although I will suggest you don’t cauterise your own wounds in future.’

The king was dressed for travel in uncertain times, but unsurprisingly, his green-and gold brigandine was covered with the finest, most intricate stitching that portrayed branches of oak leaves with beehives hanging from them, as well as his usual bee device.

Isak took the king’s arm and muttered his thanks as he looked around the assembled company. Doranei and Veil were in their king’s lee as usual, while Legana and the witch of Llehden were presiding over a group of ten or so people sitting at a long table that occupied one half of the room. Vesna, Lahk and Tiniq were among them.

But Isak barely noticed these details. There was one figure, standing just inside the doorway, who instantly dominated his attention, and if he had looked around at the other faces in the room it would have been clear he wasn’t alone there.

Hulf stood out on the terrace at a wary distance, his ears flat against his head as he edged forward, torn between keeping away and running to Isak’s side.

‘Just as well not all men stare so. Someone might get jealous.’

Isak took a step forward, and Hulf darted past the newcomer, determinedly placing himself in front of Isak, but so close to his feet the white-eye had to stop dead.

‘Your puppy’s better trained than mine,’ Isak said at last, one eye on Doranei. The grim King’s Man hadn’t moved. He kept his arms folded, making the point that he was at his king’s command here.

‘Yet they share the same adorable eyes,’ Zhia said with a smile that showed her small, bright teeth. ‘I’ve discovered mine is not averse to having his tummy tickled either. Is that how you got the tattoos on him? I’m glad to see reports of your untimely death have proved inaccurate — in the long run at least.’ Sapphire eyes flashed darkly in the shadow of the dark grey shawl she wore pulled right over her head to protect her skin from the dull morning light outside, but there was a drawn look to her face that even Isak could see. She had on a strange combination of clothes: long strips of cloth decorated with small blue flowers that combined to form a long skirt but would not restrict movement if she needed to fight, over a more functional pair of trousers and long boots. She wore a plain fitted jacket, with blue silk gloves that extended from elbow to fingertip and mirrored the pattern on her skirt.

‘You’re hurt,’ Isak said at last, finding he had no response to her comment.

Zhia inclined her head. ‘Fortunately I heal even quicker than you do, and there are a still a few meals wandering lost on the moor.’

‘Zhia and her brother attempted to stop the battle before it began,’ Emin explained, watching Isak’s reaction carefully. ‘My mages sensed something violent was taking place within the Menin lines. Now we have an explanation for what that was.’

‘You will, of course, note the slight scepticism in the king’s voice,’ Zhia said. As she shifted the weight on her feet slightly Isak could see the discomfort it caused her. The vampire drew her right arm closer in to her body. She wore her long handled sword on her belt, but she didn’t look like she was in much condition to draw it. ‘I had forgotten what a suspicious man he is; even with my brother’s Crystal Skull in his possession, he wonders. However, here I am at your mercy, ready to scratch Doranei behind the ears and help you in your endeavours.’

‘Help?’

She inclined her head. ‘You managed to defeat a man created to be peerless, one who twice cut my brother down in single combat. If that does not indicate you are capable of ending this all, I don’t know what does. King Emin remains cautious, but he understands my argument.’

‘You will forgive me a few misgivings,’ Emin interjected, ‘when you have spent this long not helping our cause, whether or not you’ve hindered it.’

‘And they are forgiven,’ she replied with a sudden, dazzling smile that Isak felt like the heat of a fire on his skin. From their reactions, Doranei and Emin did too: the king drew back slightly while his agent had to fight to avoid taking a step towards her. ‘All the same, here I am at your disposal and, I suspect, still likely to be useful.’

‘What makes you so sure of that?’ Isak asked.

‘You have Vorizh’s journal. I assume by now you’ve translated it.’

King Emin glanced at Doranei. ‘I had heard you and Koezh didn’t know what was within it.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Zhia said with a snort, ‘but one doesn’t have to be seven millennia old and the brother of the author to guess what aspect of my utterly deranged sibling’s life you’re interested in. It could be his exploits during the Great War or his experiments on wyverns — or perhaps Doranei is looking for a living male relative of mine from whom to ask permission.’ She blew Doranei a kiss that only made his cheeks colour more.

Then she continued, ‘However, I’m guessing it’s because he stole the most terrible weapon in existence from the Chief of the Gods.’ Zhia shrugged. ‘It’s just a guess, mind.’

‘And you choose your side,’ Isak stated.

‘I knew the time was coming,’ Zhia said, ‘and now I’ve chosen. Any objections about the time I took to decide are really not of concern.’

From King Emin’s expression it was clear he had no intention of taking the debate any further. ‘On that note, I’ll take my leave. The Kingsguard and the bulk of the army will be travelling south with me, to negotiate the surrender of the last remaining Menin army group, and make ourselves obvious on the border so General Afasin down in Mustet doesn’t get any ideas. The Ghosts have their orders. Half of them are leaving with me, the rest will act as escort for you, Isak. I leave it up to you to decide how much of our plans you reveal, however much she’s guessed thus far.’

Emin reached for Isak’s arm again and grasped it tightly. ‘Look after yourself, my friend. I will see you soon.’

Isak nodded in response. Clearly the king’s farewells to the rest had already been made, for he wasted no time in leaving, soldiers and generals clustered at his heels. Doranei spared one final look in Zhia’s direction before following, despite the fact he would be travelling with Isak rather than his king. Isak saw her gaze soften for a moment, but in that look there was no hint whether she was a true ally or something less. A moment later the inscrutable expression she normally wore returned.

Isak sighed, gesturing for her to join the people sitting at the long table.

What assurances could we trust anyway? Logic and instinct are as good reasons as any to trust her, and we will certainly need the help.

‘So, are you planning a trip?’ Zhia asked brightly, sapphire eyes carefully noting all the faces of the group they were joining. ‘Somewhere nice, I hope?’

She made a particular point to embrace Legana, casting her eyes over the remarkable changes that had taken place since they last met. Though physical contact with the woman she’d taken under her wing in Scree discomforted Zhia now — Legana’s divine spirit was anathema to the vampire — it was not enough to stop her running tender fingers down Legana’s cheek. The fierce Mortal-Aspect seemed to soften at the gesture, the emerald glow of her eyes lessening as she smiled in welcome.

The Farlan men had all risen as Zhia joined them. ‘Does it sound likely?’ growled Vesna as he retook his seat. The Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn scratched the ruby teardrop on his cheek irritably, as though the War God objected to her presence. ‘We’re following a trail left by your mad monster of a younger brother; it’s a long way from nice.’

‘Which is to be expected really,’ Mihn said. ‘There is reasoning behind it, if you think like an insane heretic.’

Zhia turned to scrutinise the unassuming man. She had not realised his status among the Farlan nobles was high enough to permit him to freely join the conversation. She was a great politician, and she knew the Land’s customs well, especially those of the Farlan, for they had endured for centuries.

‘Vanach,’ Vesna said sourly, ‘that happy little hole of religious fanaticism and brutal tyranny. According to your brother’s journal, all that misery is his way of hiding Termin Mystt until the time comes for some saviour to claim it.’

Isak grinned at the group in general, the broken lines of his face serving only to enhance his dark humour. ‘So you’ve got to pick your saviour then: me or Ruhen?’ He shared a look with Mihn, but the man didn’t join his mirth. ‘I’ve said it before: you lot need to be more careful when you hand out jobs.’

When no one responded, the witch of Llehden took that as her cue and rose. She was swiftly followed by all the Farlan men but Isak, though she ignored them as she made her way around the table. She gave Legana’s hand a squeeze in passing before beckoning to Isak. The white-eye left his seat without a word and fell in beside her, with Mihn and Hulf close behind. They went into the next room, the lord of Moorview’s study in more peaceful times.

The air was redolent with the scents of old, polished wood and leather and pipe smoke. Over a small fireplace was a tall gilt-framed mirror that dominated the room, and for a while the witch faced it, as if subjecting herself to the same exacting scrutiny everyone else received.

‘I must leave too,’ the witch said once the door was closed behind them. ‘Llehden needs me, now more than ever, and Zhia’s presence is not one I relish.’

Isak ducked his head in acknowledgement. ‘Someone has to clear up after me,’ he said, apologetically. ‘Will you- Will you be safe?’

Her face was unreadable. From somewhere she had found an old silk shawl of faded green and brown. He guessed it was a cast-off of Countess Derenin’s, but suited her: autumnal colours on a cool summer’s day.

Isak suspected he knew the woman as well as any man now, but still she remained a mystery to him. Even on the journey to Moorview she had shared little of her opinions and nothing of her history. Mihn said that was the way of witches; part of their power was in being apart from the rest of humanity. Isak didn’t envy her having to make that effort. Having had it thrust upon him, he knew how heavy a burden that could be.

‘There is no way of knowing,’ she said eventually. ‘Daima will be well clear of the lake; only the gentry will go near it now. They know he is dangerous, but I suspect they have much in common with each other now, the Ragged Man and the gentry.’

He lowered his head, both an acknowledgement of her point and a pang of shame that she was handling the fallout of his actions. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

‘For what? I share in the responsibility for what we did to him, Isak. And my task will be easier than yours.’

Isak leaned heavily on the back of a chair, drained by the memory of what they had done. ‘Not just for this, for all you’ve done. My home is Llehden, but I give it up to another. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, and I’ve much to thank you for.’

She put a small hand on the twisted scars of his arm. ‘I am a witch of the Land; it is my place to do what I must, what is right, so there is no need for thanks — but I’ll take it gladly, all the same.’

Before he could say anything more the door burst open. Mihn and Hulf were already moving towards the intruder before he was even in the room, and he yelped with fear at the sight of both of them. Isak watched with a slight smile as Endine hopped backwards and collided with the wall, ending up in a small heap with Hulf standing over him barking defiantly.

Realising the little mage was no threat, Mihn dropped down and hooked his arm around Hulf’s chest in one practised movement. The powerful dog squirmed to get out of his grip, but Mihn managed to manoeuvre him back far enough for Isak to take Hulf by the scruff of the neck, at which he finally quietened.

‘My- Ah, my Lord, my apologies!’ Endine gabbled, hands still protectively over his head. ‘I didn’t realise the room was in use.’

‘I was just leaving,’ the witch said. She inclined her head to both Isak and Mihn and stepped neatly over the floundering mage, taking the opportunity to leave before anything more could be said. Isak watched her go with a strange sense of loss, but he suppressed the feeling and reminded himself of everything he still had to do that day.

‘Come in, Master Endine,’ Mihn said, helping the man up.

‘You are recovered then?’

It was rare that Mihn physically overshadowed any man, but he looked large and powerful compared to Tomal Endine. Though they were of a similar height, Endine was as frail as a decrepit old man. He reminded Isak of someone back in Tirah, but as the thought struck it was accompanied by a sharp pain in his head and he lurched sideways against the armchair, bandaged arm flailing wildly as the chair scraped across the parquet floor before catching on something.

Mihn grabbed his good hand and hauled on it as hard as he could, fighting to keep the huge white-eye on his feet until he had steadied himself.

Moaning, he sank to his knees, one arm draped over the chair’s armrest, as sparks of pain flashed through his head and a cold, empty void opened up in his mind. ‘It’s not there,’ he gasped, blinking back tears. ‘His name’s darkness, just darkness-!’

‘Darkness?’ squawked Endine. ‘What do you mean my name is darkness?’

‘Quiet,’ Mihn ordered before crouching at Isak’s side. ‘Isak, breathe, just look at me and breathe. His name is Tomal Endine, you remember?’

Isak shook his head. ‘Not him, another man, looks like him.’ He shuddered and screwed up his eyes until he found the strength to take a long heaving breath, then a second. ‘The holes in my mind — it’s not like forgetting,’ he whispered.

‘I know — I wish it were; but some of your memories could not be forgotten — we had to cut them out,’ Mihn said compassionately.

‘Who’s the man? The man in Tirah?’

Mihn turned to the bemused Endine. ‘Who looks like him?’

‘A priest? I see his face, a man in robes, and Death’s hand on his shoulder.’

‘A dead priest? High Cardinal Echer, perhaps?’

Isak looked blank at the suggestion, and Mihn decided that was probably correct, if Isak couldn’t remember the name of the man who’d performed his investiture as Lord of the Farlan.

‘The High Cardinal, yes — there is a superficial similarity between them, though Echer was an older man.’

‘Ruggedly handsome, I presume?’ Endine asked with tentative humour.

Isak shook his head drunkenly and allowed Mihn to help him up into the chair. ‘A worm,’ he gasped as he recovered himself, ‘a madman we had to kill.’

‘Well, honestly!’ Endine bristled, his attempt at wit eclipsed by the white-eye’s antagonism.

‘Calm yourself, Master Endine,’ Mihn interrupted, ‘he was killed by his own. It was the High Priest of Death I murdered, so you are quite safe. Now, you came in here for a reason?’

Endine opened his mouth, then shut it again with a snap. He had been unconscious for days after the battle, drained by his exertions, and then spent another two in complete silence as he mourned his friend, Shile Cetarn, who had died during the battle. The two had been constant companions, colleagues and magical sparring partners for more than a decade, and without the oversized Cetarn beside him, Endine looked even less substantial.

Isak found it hard to believe this man was one of the finest battle-mages in Narkang. He’d grown used to using physical strength to contain and channel terrifying levels of magic, and he equated that to power, but it wasn’t necessarily so; a mage’s mental control and skill was at least as important as his physical capacity. While Endine was a weak man, he was brilliant and deft, almost the opposite to Isak’s own raw talent.

‘I came to use the mirror,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘The king ordered me to fetch a man who’s travelling here from Narkang.’

‘Help yourself,’ Isak said. ‘I’ll just sit here if you don’t mind. Is it a magic mirror?’

‘No — well, yes, sort of. Judging by the quality of workmanship it was clearly made using magic, but I’ll be the one performing the spell.’ He scuttled over to the fireplace and after a wary glance back at Isak, reached into the pocket of his robe. It showed signs of careful repair after the battle; he might not be strong enough to wield a sword effectively, but Endine had been in the fort with King Emin as the Menin infantry launched their final frenzied assault, and without his desperate efforts it was very possible there would have been no survivors of that final stand. In the whole Narkang Army, probably only Cetarn had killed more men.

From his robe Endine reverently withdrew a Crystal Skull. It was too large for him to hold comfortably in one hand so he pressed the artefact to his chest while he drew chalk symbols on the edge of the mantelpiece.

‘Snap,’ Isak muttered, and when Endine turned and looked at him with puzzled irritation he held up the bag containing the Skull of Ruling.

‘So you are one of those chosen?’ Mihn said gravely.

Endine stopped working a moment and visibly stiffened. ‘Of course I was chosen,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Who else is more qualified? And besides, I refuse to allow that fat oaf Cetarn to have all the glory — I cannot have history remember me as some sort of apprentice of his.’

Isak saw Mihn smile at that. The squabbling pair of mages had fitted into the Brotherhood perfectly; the competition and abuse between them had matched anything Doranei and his fellows came out with, and it had masked the same fierce loyalty and friendship.

‘It will be dangerous,’ Mihn said quietly.

‘I have learned a little of duty in my years, young man,’ Endine snapped, ‘and I’m better able than most to deal with the danger.’

‘Who else has them?’

The Crystal Skulls had been divided up amongst people they could trust — quite apart from the fact that few mages would have the strength to control more than one, the Menin lord had clearly been hunting them all down. King Emin decided it would be far harder for Azaer to steal the greater part if they were not all in one place.

‘Camba Firnin has Protection, since you, Lord Isak, did not want it returned, while Tasseran Holtai has accepted Dreams, which should expand the scope of his scrying skills enormously. Morghien will take Joy with him into Byoran territory — more as a Brotherhood joke, I suspect — while Blood has been entrusted to your General Lahk. Unsurprisingly, Fei Ebarn was given Destruction. Knowledge I hold here, and Elements is to go to the man I summon today.’

Mihn bit back any further questions and left the mage to complete his preparations. Once the thick front edge of the mantelpiece had runic symbols down its length, Endine wrote with a tall, florid script on each side of the mirror before touching the Skull to the glass. Under his breath he started to chant, and Isak found himself holding his breath as the texture of the air started to thicken and the already dim room grew steadily darker.

The Land contracted around him with the growing gloom and Isak found his hand questing down for Hulf’s reassuring warmth as the walls and ceiling started to fade from his perception. There was a tiny sound, on the edge of hearing, but one that made him shiver all the same — it was too close to the far-off wails of the damned in Ghenna for his liking.

‘Damn imagination,’ Mihn muttered, echoing Isak’s thoughts.

‘You heard that?’ Endine said softly. ‘That wasn’t your imagination; the boundaries between worlds are weakened while the Gods are drained. Most normal men wouldn’t hear it, but I suppose you would be rather more sensitive to the other side than most, wouldn’t you?’ He paused and looked back at Mihn. ‘Some sounds you never forget.’

Before Mihn could find a reply Endine had returned to his spell — then the reflection in the mirror moved unexpectedly. Isak blinked, and realised it had become more than just a reflection; the lines of the darkened room had turned into somewhere different entirely, and he could now make out a much larger figure than Endine. Without warning a hand reached forward and pushed through the surface of the mirror, followed swiftly by a man’s head. The man blinked at them, as though checking they were in fact real, before he stepped through onto the mantelpiece and dropped down to the ground.

‘Master Endine,’ he said gravely, offering his hand in a perfunctory way, apparently unsurprised when it was ignored.

The man was no older than forty summers, Isak guessed, with a thin, clipped beard and more jewellery than even most Farlan nobleman would think appropriate. His travelling clothes were expensively cut, and he had rubies dangling from his ears, a fat pearl at his throat, and all sorts of gold rings on his fingers. Both the clasp of his cloak and his belt-buckle were golden dragons with displayed wings and rubies for eyes, while the long dagger on his belt was so ornate Isak could scarcely believe anyone could use it in anger.

‘Are all your servants so insolent?’ the newcomer demanded as Mihn, standing closer than Isak, inspected him with obvious interest. The man’s fingers dropped to the garnet pommel of his knife.

‘Ah, he is no servant, Master Ashain,’ Endine said quickly, stepping in between the two. ‘This is Mihn ab- Ah, well, I forget the rest, but he is a much respected man by the king.’

‘I’m also no servant,’ Isak piped up. Mihn turned and put a hand on the white-eye’s shoulder, hearing the antagonistic tone to his voice, but Isak didn’t take the hint. ‘But I am pretty insolent, so if you’re planning on pulling that knife, stop teasing and fucking well draw the thing.’

To his credit Ashain didn’t take a step back, merely withdrew his hands and delicately brushed his fingers. There was no fear on the man’s face, just astonishment and disdain as he gazed at the scarred white-eye sitting before him. His eyes were cold and grey, with faint crows-feet at the corners and long dark lashes.

‘And you are?’

‘Someone who doesn’t like your face.’

‘As someone appears to have taken a dislike to yours.’

Endine took another step forward. ‘Gentlemen, please! Isak, there’s no need for that; he is not the enemy.’

Now the shock did register on Ashain’s face. ‘Isak? Lord Isak? ’ He looked the white-eye up and down, clearly now registering Isak was bigger than most white-eyes, and so likely to be one of the Chosen. ‘What- How?’

‘My servant here,’ Isak said, pointing at Mihn, ‘you can call him Grave Thief if you like.’

‘Astonishing! Endine, you will take some time later to let me know how it was done?’ Ashain said, suddenly alight with academic curiosity.

‘I shall, as far as I have gleaned the details,’ Endine agreed, ‘but first we have rather more pressing business.’

‘And what would that be? As much as I enjoy mirror-travel when someone else capable is doing the work for a change, I have had to come a long way on horseback beforehand. Your master had better have a good reason for dragging me out this way without warning.’

‘My master, but the king of both of us,’ Endine warned. ‘That you have a personal dispute with him makes no difference; we are his subjects and he requires your service.’

‘My service?’ spluttered Ashain. ‘Has he taken leave of his senses? I’m no mere King’s Man to come running when he clicks his fingers.’

Isak made a face. ‘Sounds like you are now.’

‘Isak is, I’m afraid, essentially correct. He requires your contribution to the war effort. You will be rewarded, but he will not accept no for an answer.’

‘Well, that’s all he’s going to bloody get, king or not!’

Endine raised a hand. ‘Master Ashain, we may have had our disputes, but I respect you as a peer of remarkable skill. However, the king is not interested in respect right now. Our losses have been too great. Because of your dispute, you have been under surveillance for a while now.’

Ashain narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you saying?’

‘That we are already certain you hold no allegiances that could compromise us, and at such short notice we don’t have time to make sure about someone else. Your king requires your services to aid the survival of the nation. To refuse him will be considered treason.’

‘Treason?’ Ashain growled, ‘this is outrageous — it flouts the very laws the man wrote with his own hand.’

‘And as such demonstrates the gravity of the situation,’ Endine said, almost wheezing with the effort of maintaining a calm, diplomatic demeanour. ‘I would rather not spell out what might happen if you refuse him.’

‘But it’ll start with someone like me cutting your fucking head off,’ said Isak, who had fewer qualms about that. ‘Don’t know who he’ll send after your family and friends, but the Mad Axe has got a strange sense o’ fun, and Zhia Vukotic is just in the next room, so I’m guessing they’ll be just as screwed.’

Ashain purpled at what he was hearing, but not even Isak displayed the slightest hint of amusement. He watched each twitch with almost detached interest, wondering how many times a subject of King Emin’s had been pressed into service this way. While most would surely not have required such threats, Ashain was clearly a rich and powerful man in his own right, and obviously one of the few King Emin couldn’t command with a look.

But this is an age of burning bridges? Isak reminded himself sadly. What else will we sacrifice for this fight? Is there anything we won’t do for victory?

The mage’s thoughts were writ clear on his face as anger and astonishment gave way to acceptance with the speed only a self-made man could manage. His accent had already betrayed him as a man not born to the wealth he now displayed, and it was obvious to the men in the room that he was now calculating what profit could be made from such outrage.

‘The king’s terms?’ he asked in a quiet voice.

‘To be negotiated when you next see him. He has just left Moorview; you could probably catch him, but your position might be strengthened by proving your worth first.’

‘And what is this service he requires? To march with his armies?’

Endine withdrew a second Crystal Skull from his robe and held it out. ‘For the time being: possession of this.’

‘Merciful Gods,’ breathed Ashain, ‘is this a joke? You coerce me into service and then gift me with one of the greatest artefacts in existence?’

‘It is not a gift,’ Endine said firmly, ‘it is custodianship. You must be able to use the Skull in battle but most importantly you must guard it.’

‘And the king cannot do this himself?’

‘We control nine of the Skulls, perhaps ten now. Our enemies will be seeking them, and it would be madness to keep them all in one place when our goal is to deny them to that enemy. The Skulls cannot be tracked or traced except by the inefficient expenditure of energies, but you will have to be on your guard at all times, even when you are with the army.’

Ashain held the Skull up to catch the light and stared at the slight flaws and colours it revealed. Wonder and delight spread across his face. ‘The king’s service is less onerous than I imagined.’

‘Don’t worry, this is as good as it gets,’ Isak said, gingerly lifting himself out of his seat. ‘Unless visiting foreign cities is your thing?’

‘That would depend on the city, I suppose.’

‘Vanach?’

‘Hah! You’d have to be mad to try that.’

Isak gave him a humourless grin. ‘Daken’s coming, so we’ve got that covered. Fortunately for the rest, we’ve got inside information that should see us to the Grand Ziggurat itself.’

‘And you expect me to join you?’ Ashain asked, looking pale.

The man’s arrogance had its limits, Isak was pleased to note. Ashain wasn’t so foolish as to consider infiltrating a repressive religious state lightly, especially given the recent wave of fanaticism that had swept through the Land following the fall of Scree.

What news they did have of the state came from those few Carastar mercenaries who had been given free rein to kill and rob along the Vanach border, effectively hemming in the population. The stories were likely to be inflated, but they described nonsensical laws punishable by death, mass mutilations and murder; the reality would be awful enough.

‘No, my twelve are already chosen. You’ll come north in our wake, however; your skills with mirror-magic might well be required and Endine’s needed with the army.’

‘Just twelve? Will you even get past the Carastars with so few?’

Isak nodded. ‘There’ll be four Crystal Skulls among us, as well as a vampire and two Mortal-Aspects. However bad the reputation of the Carastars, they’re just mercenaries. Whoever gets in our way will regret it. It’s the competition we need to watch out for.’

‘Competition?’

‘Our enemy has also seen this information; it’s unlikely we’ll get a free run at it.’

The mage frowned. ‘What are you looking for there?’

Isak patted the man on the shoulder and headed for the door, snapping his fingers at Hulf as he went. ‘Think of the stupidest thing I could be hunting; one that could only bring ruin down on us all.’

He didn’t wait for an answer.