The Twilight herald

CHAPTER 19

Fires danced in the twilight, the heat prickling his skin. Fragments of stone and brick under his feet made his footing treacherous as he picked his way down the street. Somewhere behind him he heard a scream, a voice he knew as well as his own – wife, lover, friend? He couldn't tell. His memories were filled with clamouring voices, mingling in his ears, drowning each other out before he could identify any of them. Each one triggered a new wave of guilt, but faded before he could attach a name or deed.

In the distance came other sounds: people shouting, the splinter of wood, the groan of disintegrating walls, the high ring of steel meeting steel. The voice behind him screamed again and this time he turned to face a misshapen creature with blood on its claws and bodies lying at its feet.

Gripped with fury, he left his shining sword in its scabbard and leapt forward, mailed fists outstretched and reaching for the crea¬ture's throat. They slammed together and spun off into the wall of a building that crumbled under the impact. They collapsed with it in a cloud of dust, still holding hard to each other. He felt the clouds massing above, growing in intensity and power; their strength filled his arms and he twisted his fingers around the creature's wrists, feeling something snap. His thumb drove deep into the desiccated flesh of his foe.

The creature howled and broke its grip on him, scrabbling to escape but unable to evade his swinging fists. He connected, watched its chest crack and crumple like dried plaster struck by a hammer. He kicked out, smashing it to the ground, then used his own great weight to pin it down.

He roared with triumph as his lingers surrounded the paper-like skin of its throat and began to squeeze, harder and hauler. It scrabbled

ineffectually, beating at his huge shoulders to no effect, emitting a stifled whimper of fear.

His hands tightened, breaking bones and crushing its windpipe until the creature moved no more – and only then did he see the fear in its eyes. Only then did he look at its face and realise that during the struggle it had become his own face, haunted and afraid, even in death. He released his grip, stumbling backwards in horror from the armoured corpse that lay beneath him. As he retreated he fell, but there was no ground beneath him to stop him, only high banks of earth rising up on either side as he fell deeper and deeper. The light from the fires grew distant as he descended into the darkness of the grave.

Isak flinched, suddenly realising how fast his heart was beating. The dream that afternoon was a new one, wrecking his sleep as he hid from the relentless sunshine in the cellar of the house they had taken. It lingered in his memory even now, several hours after nightfall. He recognised the taste of fear in his mouth, the vivid images in his mind and the ghosts of sensation on his fingertips. This was no ordinary dream; the similarities to his long-standing nightmare about Lord Bahl's death were all too apparent. Even in the hot night air he could feel Death's cold touch on his skin. He wondered if this too was pro¬phetic.

'But what does it mean?' he whispered to the night. 'How could I have been fighting myself? I died, but the black knight wasn't there. Is anything set, or has my corrupted destiny now turned me away even from that?'

He wiped a hand across his brow, feeling a slick sheen of sweat under his fingers. They had been in this city less than a day and already he was hating it. Even on the Chetse plains he'd never felt such heat. He didn't need his Crystal Skulls to tell him that this was far from natural; every fibre of his being told him so. There was magic in the air; a bitter, dirty pall hanging over the city that made his head throb. He felt both light-headed and disembodied, and yet burdened by the weight of the Land. He found himself unable to separate one confused thought from the next and his foul mood only deepened.

He'd snarled at Tila for the crime of asking what was wrong, then found himself unable to say sorry – what started as an apology sent her away in tears, Vesna following swiftly behind, his expression thunderous. Only the forlorn look on Major Jachen's face had spurred him to fix things.

The sound of shuffling feet pierced the miasma of thoughts: some' one shifting in the shadows, just below his own vantage point on a stone walkway that had probably once been part of the old city wail. Isak's hand went to his side and he wrapped his fingers around the unfamiliar handle of the mace he now carried. Eolis was wrapped in a bundle of cloth and tied securely to his back; they couldn't risk it being recognised and the sort of mercenary Isak was pretending to be wouldn't own such a fine weapon.

He eased himself forward and leaned out over the edge of the wall. There was a tense silence in the area tonight. Unless it was just a product of Isak's own anticipation, the locals appeared to be aware that something was going to happen. Whoever was standing below him was the only person Isak had seen all night, other than his own soldiers and the two Brotherhood men who'd told him of King Emin's plans.

He edged his way out, ready to leap back and strike, when he saw it was just a young man standing there alone. Strangely, he appeared to be looking at the same crumbling old house Isak was. What part do you have to play in this? Isak wondered. Are you working for Emin? If not, what in the name of the Dark Place are you doing watching that house?

Doranei and his companion, introduced as Sebe, had told him the king had personal business with one of the men seen entering that house. Isak had joked at the time that he was attracting trouble again -after all, he'd been in the city but a few hours when he saw Doranei, hurrying back to his master with the news – but neither Brother had even smiled, and that spoke volumes. Doranei and Isak had spent more than a week together; Isak considered him a friend. But that afternoon he had been too preoccupied for anything but business, and their sharing of news had been brief, and it had ended almost as soon as Ilumene had been mentioned.

Isak studied the boy leaning against the wall: young, skinny, aver¬age height for a youth of fifteen-odd summers. No weapons.

'A strange night to be taking the air,' Isak said softly. The boy spun around in alarm, for a moment not seeing Isak's face and then gasping when he did. 'Getting a moment's peace away from your family?' Isak's command of the language was not perfect, but it was good enough to be understood.

'No sir,' came the sullen reply. Sir, Isak thought with interest, an odd way for a local to speak to a foreigner unless I look older than I think I do.

'Then what are you doing? It's a bad night to be out.'

'Every night is a bad night in Scree,' the youth said, 'but I think I'm safe on the streets around here. Safer than you, anyway.'

Isak gave a grin. 'Really? I'd heard this was one of the worst districts for criminals.'

'They're just poor round here, not criminal – unless you think being poor is a crime.' The youth gave him a defiant look. 'But there are criminals out tonight, and they're the ones I'm waiting for. They don't much like white-eyes, so if I were you I'd go somewhere else.'

Isak thought for a moment. The youth had definitely been watch¬ing the house, but as far as Isak could tell, it was a derelict building – certainly nothing to interest normal criminals.

'What's your name?'

'What's yours?' the youth snapped.

'My name? Ah, Horman,' Isak replied. Now why did I say that? That's not the name I'd agreed with Vesna. What made me think of my father?

'Fine, if you say so. I'm Mayel.'

Isak reached out a hand. 'Well, Mayel, how about you come up here and tell me all about these criminals.' Mayel took a half-pace back as Isak's massive arm loomed forward. 'Come on; share a pipe with me.'

The promise of tobacco seemed to clinch it for the young man, who took a step forward and grasped Isak's hand. The white-eye hauled Mayel up without effort and deposited him on the walkway.

'Gods, you're a big bastard,' Mayel exclaimed when he saw Isak straighten up.

'Easy there, you were calling me "sir" a moment ago.'

'Sorry, bad habit,' Mayel apologised, not mentioning which was the bad habit. 'Just hadn't expected it; you're bigger than any white-eye I've ever seen.'

Isak ignored the point. 'What's that accent I can hear? Are you a local? It sounds like you've been educated, but you're hardly dressed like a merchant's son.'

Mayel plucked at the ragged clothes he had on. 'I was a novice at a monastery, I got some learning there. What's it to you?'

'Just working out who I'm dealing with,' Isak replied breezily. 'Always best to find out beforehand. Here, help yourself.' He offered his pipe and tobacco pouch and Mayel took them with delight.

'So what are you doing out here?' Mayel asked once he'd filled the pipe and lit it. 'Have you enlisted with Mistress Ostia's army?'

'No, we're escorting someone, some lord's mistress.' Tila had in¬sisted on accompanying them and Isak hadn't been able to dissuade her. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of forbidding it outright, so in the end, he'd agreed that the White Circle would likely not harm a woman, and accepted her suggestion that she play the lordly whore being escorted by mercenaries in these troubled times.

'One of those White Circle bitches?'

'Probably,' Isak grinned. 'You should be careful what you say about them in strange company though.'

'Ah, you're not tied to them. I hear the only white-eyes the Circle have are ones they trot around on leashes. They don't speak or piss without permission from their mistress.'

That drove the smile from Isak's face. He'd come close to becom¬ing little more than a pet of the Queen of the Fysthrall. Wondering how his life would have turned out if she'd succeeded was a sobering thought. As far as they could tell, he'd have been made to march his armies all the way to Tir Duria and lay siege to that fortress city, costing tens of thousands of lives. It would probably have been the ruin of the Farlan nation in the process.

'So who does your mistress belong to? Someone powerful?' Mayel asked, enjoying the pipe enough to not have noticed Isak's changed mood.

'Don't know. Why do you ask?'

Mayel suddenly looked apprehensive. 'I've been away for a few years,' he said, hunching his shoulder. 'I'm still working out who the people with power are.'

'I don't think he's anyone very powerful, just a man who's very fond of his pretty mistress.' Isak pictured Count Vesna and almost smiled again. The man had looked constantly anxious since they had met up again on the border. He and his band of soldiers were bloodied and grim, drained by the weeks fighting Duke Vrerr's cause. The reunion had been muted, and since then Vesna had rarely left Tila's side.

Isak gestured towards the unlit house. 'So why don't you tell me why your criminal friends are interested in that house?'

'Why should I? What are you doing here?'

'Watching out for a friend. He has business with someone in that house.'

Mayel frowned. 'What sort of business?'

'A personal dispute.'

'And you're just sitting here watching?'

'It's personal,' Isak replied gravely. 'If he wanted my help he would

ask, but he won't need it.'

'He will once my cousin's men arrive,' Mayel blurted out. 'They've also got business there, and you don't want to get in their way.'

Isak cocked his head to one side. 'Now what sort of business could they have with that house?'

'People have been disappearing in the city; we hear it's got some¬thing to do with the man who lives in that house. My cousin runs this district and he doesn't like madmen preying on his people; he's going to have a look around that house and see what's there.'

Isak stared at the house. It was completely dark, and silent; he couldn't even see any movement within the grounds. That struck him as a little odd; while Doranei hadn't explained fully what was going on, Isak would have expected anyone the king was interested in to have posted guards, or at least to inspect the grounds once or twice. He'd been watching a good while now, and he'd have guessed the house was deserted.

Emin would soon be making his move, then they would see just how dead it was around here.

To be on the safe side, Isak reached down and picked up a couple of small stones lying near his foot. Ignoring Mayel's curious expression, he tossed them over his shoulder and they pattered away into the darkness. Within a matter of heartbeats, Major Jachen was crouched down at Isak's side, betraying no surprise at the presence of the young stranger.

'Where are the others?'

'I sent most back to the house with the tart,' Jachen replied, keep¬ing in role. 'I know what you're like for getting into trouble, so I kept Leshi, Tiniq and Jeil with me.'

Isak grinned. Lesarl had added the rangers Leshi and Tiniq to his party. They were Ascetites, men whose latent talent for magic had never developed, but instead they had natural and learned skills pushed beyond normal limits. The pair were as stealthy as Mihn and almost as quick and strong as the white-eyes of the Palace Guard. Tiniq was the twin of a white-eye, General Lahk, which was appar¬ently impossible, while Leshi had the remarkable ability to be able to stand so perfectly still that he faded into to the shadows. In a forest, even another ranger could walk within a few yards of the man and never see him.

With the losses to Isak's personal guard and the great danger posed by entering Scree with so few soldiers, it had been prudent to fill the gaps with more unnatural troops. In addition to a squat, bearded battle-mage who'd introduced himself as Mariq and said nothing else since to Isak, there was a knight from Torl whose remarkable skill with a bow meant he too had to be an Ascetite, and Shinir, one of Lesarl's female agents, who had only a loose relationship with gravity whenever climbing was necessary – she was also the most spiteful and unforgiving woman Isak had ever met.

Their addition had already provided one unexpected bonus. As they were trying to work out how Mariq and Isak would get past the White Circle mage attending the gate, their Ascetites had gone through, and their strange abilities had so thoroughly confused the mage that she'd developed a migraine and abandoned her post, leaving Isak free to walk straight in.

'Tell them to keep their eyes open,' Isak said, pointing down the empty road leading towards the heart of the city. 'I have a bad feeling about all this; tell them to be ready to raise the alarm.'

Mikiss sat in the broken chair and sank slowly into its cushioned back. They were in the cellars of the house, a damp, cramped net¬work of rooms that served as home for Isherin Purn and his servant Nai. The smell of mould and stone was overlaid by the scent of dead vegetation and dank earth which crept in through a grille near the ceiling. There was no one else around as far as Mikiss could tell, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that they were not entirely alone. A presence seemed to linger in the dim corridors and gently creaking rooms above; Mikiss knew nothing about necromancers and had no wish to, but his imagination was producing any number of alarming ideas.

'What you thinking about, sir?' Shart asked from opposite Mikiss. 'You're looking kinda spooked over there.'

'Aren't you? You do remember what our host's calling entails?'

'Sure,' Shart chuckled.

'And you don't find it at all unnerving?'

The soldier grinned, chiefly out of amusement at Mikiss' discomfort,

'Of course all this daemon crap is weird, but you serve in the Cheme Third and you get used to it after a while.'

Mikiss had guessed as much from the stories they had told him on the journey north. The Cheme Third Legion was Lord Styrax's favourite, made up of men he trusted above even the Bloods worn and the Reavers.

'Also,' Major Amber growled from the corner of the room, a brown earthenware bottle clamped firmly in his lap, 'the whole stench-of-death thing becomes familiar enough when you serve in the Third. Us three have holed up together with a nice pile of corpses keeping us warm before; had to, else we'd have been caught and spitted.' His eyes were fixed on the bottle in front of him; from the way the man had been pulling on it, Mikiss guessed it was almost empty. 'You watch a man you know go through various stages of decomposition and death becomes just another comrade.'

Mikiss watched the oil lamps flicker. They were turned low, just enough for him to make out the lines and corners of the room. The door to the room was open, in the vain hope of a breeze; from where Mikiss was sitting he could see the dim light from the cramped kitchen where Nai was preparing something for his master. Somewhere beyond that, sheathed in shadow, was the door to Isherin Purn's study, a room Mikiss never wanted to see inside.

'Karkarn's horn,' Shart exclaimed, 'you're being miserable tonight – if you don't mind me saying so, sir. Stench of death and presence of daemons aside, we've got food I can recognise bits of, drink so we don't care what the rest of the food is, and we can make Keneg sleep in a different room to us. In my book, that puts us well ahead of where we were yesterday.'

Ah, this house puts me on edge; this whole damn city puts me on edge.' The major grimaced. 'Don't any of you feel it?'

'Feel what? All I feel is this heat.'

'The…' Amber's voice tailed off as he gestured vaguely in the air. 'I don't know what it is exactly but there's something-'

He didn't get any further as a scream pierced the night air. They all jumped up, scrambling for the weapons they'd left propped against the wall. Mikiss caught himself on the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in and careened into Shart, who ploughed through Mikiss, knocking him out of the way and not missing a step as he went for his axe. From outside they heard men shouting, more than a lew, and deeper sounds Mikiss could not place; sounds that reached down into his gut.

'Shart, keep with Mikiss,' Amber snapped. His yellowy eyes glowed in the weak light.

'Prefer to be outside, sir,' Shart commented, his eyes not leaving the doorway where Keneg was standing ready with both hands wrapped around the hilt of his brutal sword. 'No room to swing in here.' Shart hefted his axe, raising it so the head banged against the cellar's low ceiling. The commotion outside continued, more screams, more shouts. A great hissing began from near the grille, a sibilant rustle of dry leaves and withered skin.

'Fair enough, just keep tight,' Major Amber said. 'Sounds like Purn's got some tricks, so don't go looking for trouble because it might not understand friend or foe. The trapdoor is barred so we go up into the house. You two lead and get to the outside door, see what you can see. We'll go up a floor and look out over the back. Keep your ears open and don't stray into the grounds.'

The brothers led out into the corridor, past Nai, who was busy mur-muring and making strange gestures over a blank wall. With a start, Mikiss realised that the wall had been the door to Purn's study only a few moments ago.

The spell completed, Nai turned to face them, a purposeful expres-sion on his face and an iron-tipped club in his hands. 'I doubt they will make it to the house,' he said with grim certainty, stalking past the soldiers and heading for the stairway that led up into the house. A great yawning groan suddenly cut through the clamour from outside, followed by a pair of heavy thumps, then the shouting came back with renewed intensity.

'That might prove unfortunate,' Nai said to no one in particular. The soldiers exchanged glances, but kept silent as they followed him into the old kitchen. The only reminder of the room's former role was a great iron stove, rusted into uselessness by years of rain sweeping In through the shattered window. Someone had nailed up a lew boards so there was no gap large enough for a person to climb through, but there were gaps to see a little of outside. As Mikiss trailed in he pulled out his own sword, as much for comfort as anything else.

Nai, peering between boards, said, 'Looks like locals. My master's pels will soon see them off – ah, they're running in all direction'. Some are making lor the courtyard.'

'Pitchforks and flaming brands?' Shart asked. Nai gave the soldier a deeply unfriendly look as the brothers shared a snigger and barrelled out of the rear door.

Mikiss heard a cry of alarm break off as Keneg roared, then the clash of steel, followed by shrieks.

Major Amber grabbed Mikiss by the shoulder and gave him a shove towards the door. 'Come on, then, sir, just your average angry mob. You've been trained, they haven't. Stick close to me and you'll be fine.' There wasn't time to argue even if Mikiss had dared, as he found himself swept along into the courtyard where Keneg and Shart were facing down half a dozen men. Two more were already down, lying there clutching their wounds and screaming.

Mikiss realised that Amber was right, so he raised his sword and ran at the nearest enemy. Swords took training, clubs didn't; the man raised his weapon preparing to smash it down on Mikiss, only to find Mikiss' blade buried in his gut. On the right, Amber was wielding his two blades with lethal efficiency, catching a club on one and hacking into his assailant's knee with the other, then following that up with a blow to the man's neck when he fell to the ground, wailing like a child.

Suddenly there was a bright burst of flame. Everyone hesitated, turning to see what had happened.

Mikiss looked around the illuminated grounds and saw men stand¬ing in groups wherever there were gaps in the vegetation, wildly fight¬ing off the strange figures assailing them. One such group was being attacked by three bony, bloody figures dressed in rags. They had no weapons that Mikiss could see, but one stopped a club in mid-swing, then swiped a palm across the man's face with such force the man spun around and collapsed in a heap on top of one of his comrades.

But the weirdness of that little group paled into insignificance next to what was going on in the centre of the grounds, where a creature something like a massive hairless bear stood hacking at anyone within reach of the double-headed axes it brandished in each hand. When it had cleared a circle, it leapt, a clear ten yards in one stride, and began again.

Mikiss started shuddering uncontrollably when he caught sight of a man just hanging in the air, flailing madly as unseen claws shred¬ded his flesh and droplets of fresh blood sprayed all around him from severed arteries.

The Menin soldiers ignored the horrific scene, but took advantage of their enemies' momentary distraction to dispatch the last of the men in the courtyard.

'Where has that light come from?' asked Amber angrily, scanning the grounds.

Shart reached out a hand, pointing off to the right. 'There, there's a mage in that bunch.'

A large group of men had formed a circle just inside the grounds, and were hewing a path through the injured and dead towards the house. One of the walking corpses burst into flames and blundered away.

'They're not locals; they're fighting as a unit,' Major Amber sud denly announced. The foreigners were now providing the only serious assault on the grounds; everyone else was dead or dying.

When Mikiss saw someone point towards them, he opened his mouth, ready to shout. But he closed his mouth in horror as a nearby bush started shaking violently, then lashed out with supernaturally long branches to envelop the man who'd pointed. A shadow crossed die still-hovering light and the branches slewed sideways and grabbed the man beside him instead, tugging the helpless figure into the body ol (be bush. Three of the attackers ran forward to help their comrade, but branches whipped at their faces and drove them back.

'The master will be pleased,' Nai commented brightly as the at-lackers struggled in vain to save the man, but all too soon it was over as, with one last shuddering moan, the man fell silent and the bush stopped shaking. Someone called out something, and in the next instant the bush burst into purple flames and an unholy howl echoed through the air.

'What the hell was that?' Shart asked.

'Just one of the master's pet projects,' Nai said airily. 'We hadn't had a chance to test it properly before.'

'They're a determined lot, I must say,' the major remarked, 'and as it doesn't look like your defences are going to stop them, and we don't have the numbers, we should get back inside.'

The foreign unit was inching its way towards the house, hampered at every turn by the new horrors springing up. The giant creature had killed every man in its vicinity, and now it turned towards the remaining group. The bright flare left Mikiss' eyes watering as he tried to make it out, but all he could be sure ol was the dark skin, a mass of criss-crossing scars and tattoos, a low-hanging jaw with unusually sharp canine teeth, and horns that curled forward past its eyes.

'Come on, you bastard,' Amber growled, grabbing Mikiss by the arm and dragging him back inside. 'Shart, check the other side of the house; let me know if there's anyone out there as well. Nai, your master had better get more involved or we're in trouble. There must be more than one mage out there.'

Shart ran into one of the front rooms. There was a clatter as some¬thing broke under the soldier's weight. Then he called back, 'Soldiers at the gate, pikemen of some sort – maybe the city guard. There are women in white standing before them. They've not come through yet.'

'Damn, White Circle mages? How in the name of the Lowest Pit did they get here so fast?' Amber looked at his men, assessing his options, then ordered, 'Nai, go and tell your master we need a diversion.'

'That won't be necessary,' said a calm voice from the cellar stair, making them all jump. Isherin Purn loomed suddenly from the kitchen shadows and stepped into the hallway, a smile of quiet pleasure on his face and a red flicker in his eyes. 'Nai, please fetch my books from the study table.'

'We've got at least three separate parties surrounding us, two with mages. You have an escape route planned?' Amber snapped.

Purn glared at him, and both the major and the messenger recoiled. The necromancer was a thin man, and hairless, no taller than Mikiss. He was believed to be around sixty winters, but his face remained unlined. Mikiss guessed that was some dark pact. It gave the necro¬mancer an air of unearthly, timeless cruelty.

'Major, you will modify your tone of voice with me.' Purn's voice sounded distracted, as though the physical world were only part of what he had to concentrate on at any one moment. 'I have released the wards on the boundary and triggered all the invocations within the grounds.'

'They hadn't all been triggered already?' the major asked, a little taken aback.

'The magic is complicated; you will not understand it,' Purn said. 'All you need to know is that there will be more appearing as we speak, drawn by the murder already done. They are free to leave the grounds now, and you will be just as great a target as any other mortal nearby'

'Isn't that going to make this even harder?' Amber asked, trying to control his temper.

'Not at all, as long as you stay close to me. In the general chaos they will cause it will be simple enough to go unnoticed.' Purn turned at the sound of his servant returning, laden with a bulky canvas bag slung over his left shoulder. 'Ah, excellent, Nai; you are sure you have them all?'

'Yes, master,' Nai replied, 'and you had missed Chalem's Experiments with Fire so I took the liberty of bringing that as well.'

Purn sniffed. 'The loss of any book is a waste, I suppose.' He pointed past Amber and through the high empty reception rooms. 'Come then, Major, that way, please. Get ready to go through one of the windows, but don't leave the building until I have joined you.'

Purn's smile faded as he touched his fingers against the splintered door frame, concentrating. He began to whisper under his breath. As Amber grabbed Mikiss by the collar and hauled him off after the brothers, they caught sight of a thin finger of flame that darted up to the ceiling and spread in all directions. By the time they had crossed the two rooms to reach the tall shuttered windows on the far side, a deep orange light outlined the doorway and Mikiss could hear the llames hungrily consuming the building.

Shart and Mikiss set to clearing away the debris below the window and forcing the warped shutters open. From outside came the sounds of magic; the fierce crackle of lightning and, suddenly, a raging wind, all overlaid with panicked cries. Despite the noise, Mikiss heard Purn's footfalls as the necromancer marched in after them, silhouet-led against the rising flames.

'Well now, chaos reigns in my wake,' Purn declared, 'so let us be off.'

He pushed past the soldiers and peered out of the window, then hopped through with remarkable agility. As Keneg and Sharl for lowed, a great chattering began in the low undergrowth nearby.

Tsatach's balls, what's that?' Shart demanded, looking anxiously at Purn.

The necromancer tugged his cloak straight. 'That? A local spirit I recruited to the cause.' Any further explanation was cut short as a shape burst from under a bush and leaped at Purn. It passed straight through the necromancer's body, skidded on the ground and slammed Into the side oi the house.

Mikiss stared down at it as the spirit scrabbled to right itself. It looked somewhat like a spider, only with four short, powerful legs, each one ending in a pair of large claws. He couldn't see the face, which was set deep into the body, but the hiss of fury it directed towards Purn was all too obvious.

The necromancer stared down at the creature, an expression of mild curiosity on his face. He said nothing, but continued to inspect the creature, until Shart took matters into his own hands and slammed his axe down onto it, cutting it in nearly in two. 'It didn't seem to like you so much,' he said, hauling his axe free. 'It looked at me for a moment, then went back to working out how it was going to gut you.' He stopped talking as a black man-like shape rose up behind Purn, claws outstretched.

The necromancer disappeared entirely as the phantom touched him. It surged forward and raked its claws down Shart's face, and he howled and collapsed in a heap. The phantom ignored Keneg, who jumped over his prone brother and attacked, but it was like trying to cut through fog. His sword was useless against the strange being.

Major Amber shoved Mikiss out the way and vaulted through the window, but before he could join the attack, a shaft of white light lanced out from inside the room and pierced the shadowy form as¬sailing Shart. The phantom reeled, shrieking, and rose up in the air, writhing and screeching, then fled over the tree tops until it dissipated in the sky.

Mikiss turned to see who had cast the spell, and was shocked at the sight of Isherin Purn, standing placidly beside his encumbered servant. He looked back: there was no trace of the necromancer on the ground.

'But? I saw it-'

'What you saw was an illusion,' Purn said.

'My master abhors the prospect of physical injury,' Nai explained, rather contemptuously. 'He sent an illusion of himself on ahead to see what was out there.'

'They are now released from my control,' Purn protested, 'and obviously some will try to kill me for imprisoning them in the first place.' He looked flustered now, as if Nai's unspoken reprimand had struck a nerve.

Nai gave a snort that seemed to indicate sympathy for the daemons outside and clambered out of the window. Mikiss gave Purn a puzzled

look, but the necromancer had regained his composure and his dark glower returned. Mikiss didn't wait to see the red glow return to Purn's eyes. He almost fell out of the window in his hurry to escape.

Shart lay on the floor, the major kneeling over him, pressing hard on his chest. Mikiss could see blood all around him.

The major's face was grim when he looked up. 'Purn, can your magic help him?'

The necromancer laid a hand on Shart's bloodied face. He shook his head. 'Your man is dead. I could have him up and walking in half a minute, but I doubt you would appreciate it.' He didn't have to go into detail.

Before anyone could move, a group of men rounded the corner of the house, weapons held low against whatever they were likely to meet. They stopped dead when they saw the Menin soldiers. The sight of six men, one probably dead, rather than a horde of daemons, left them momentarily confused.

One man said something and the rest closed ranks, in anticipation of attack. Keneg obliged with a roar and Major Amber ran to his side, followed by Nai, who abandoned his bag of books and snatched up Shart's axe from the ground. Keneg battered aside one pike-head and decapitated its owner without a pause. The major followed suit before anyone else had the chance to attack.

Then Mikiss found himself screaming a warning – a woman was sprinting around the corner after the soldiers. He couldn't work out what she thought she could achieve, for she carried no weapons… She was making straight for Keneg, who raised his sword and stood ready. The woman didn't slow her charge, but her body blurred and dropped low to all fours with astonishing speed and Keneg's blade met nothing as a huge lioness came up under his guard and slapped one razor-sharp clawed paw into his gut. The lioness buried its teeth Into Keneg's forearm and used its great weight to bear him to the ground

Major Amber rushed to join the attack, but the lioness pulled Keneg, howling in pain, out of reach, dragging him by the arm as if he were a rag-doll. Amber raised his sword, preparing to rush the lioness, when another group of soldiers rounded the corner, led by a second woman brandishing two swords.

Put up your weapons,' the woman shouted, the men behind her spreading out. On her left was a nobleman, dressed as if for a state banquet but clearly able to use the needle-sharp rapier in his hand.

'Fucking animal,' Keneg bellowed, swinging his free arm around to punch the lioness in the throat with all the strength of a desperate man.

Major Amber stood ready against the oncoming soldiers as Keneg struggled to his feet, trying to buy them some space, all thoughts of his own safety long vanished. Once upright, Keneg charged forward, swinging wildly at the lioness, who growled at him and retreated, leaving him facing the other woman. He screamed a challenge at her and rushed in, but she parried his blows with ease, her twin blades moving in perfect unison.

Finally Keneg gasped and sank to his knees, his fury gone in a shud¬der of pain. The woman hardly broke her stride as she spun around and pierced his body, heart and lung. He heaved one great hacking cough, gouts of blood erupting from his mouth, and sank to the ground.

'Gentlemen.' Yet another woman stepped forward from behind the attackers, dressed as a member of the White Circle. She carried no weapons and wore no armour, but there was a grim promise in her voice as she said, 'I suggest you drop your weapons immediately, I am in no mood to play games.'

Purn stepped forward. 'And I suggest you get out of our way or I will summon the daemons walking this place to destroy you.' Mikiss saw the deep red glow radiating from the necromancer's eyes again.

'Oh, spare me,' the woman growled, pushing her shawl back to reveal lustrous black hair and elegant features. 'They might be daemons, but they're not stupid.'

Purn gave a yelp and staggered back, one hand raise as though to ward off a blow. The woman, bristling with barely restrained anger, stepped towards them, apparently completely unafraid of the weapons they still carried.

Purn gave an unintelligible cry and turned to flee, diving for the bag of books Nai had dropped and hunkering low over them as shadows from all sides appeared up to envelop him.

When the shadows faded away, the necromancer Isherin Purn was nowhere to be seen.

The woman with the short swords started to move forward but stopped at a raised finger from the White Circle mage.

'No, forget him; he'll not have gone far, and with luck he'll deal with some of the creatures he released here so I won't have to bother.' She bestowed a glittering smile on Major Amber, Mikiss and Nai.

Mikiss felt himself shy away from her look as a sense of horror flooded his mind and the fingers holding his sword went numb. 'Now, gentlemen; please be good boys and come quietly.'

Not far away, Abbot Dorn sat in his study behind locked and barred doors, fearfully watching the wildly flickering light cast by an oil lamp on the wall beyond. His hands shook as he felt the heavy footfalls of daemons walking the Land and heard their voices echo out on the rushing streams of magic. Despite the unnatural heat, he felt the room grow cold and the shadows deepen. There was no breeze in the cellar, but the lamp suddenly guttered down to almost nothing, leaving only a trembling finger of light. The abbot reached under the table that served as his desk and slipped open the box there. He withdrew the Crystal Skull and cupped it in both hands, as afraid of the power it contained as he was of the shadows drawing closer.

As soon as he touched the Skull, he realised his mistake: every one of the horrors walking Scree's festering streets noticed the change in the magic-laden atmosphere and turned to find him.

'We see you.' The words whispered around the cellar.

Abbot Doren whimpered and turned around wildly, trying to see wboever was speaking, but there was nothing there. The room was locked and secure; he was alone, except for the shadows.

'We will come for you.'

The abbot crashed into his desk, spilling books and dirty crockery onto the floor. The Skull, its surface slick against his skin, almosl slipped from his hands. Pulling it close to his chest, he tentatively drew on its power. The shadows withdrew, but not far. He could feel them lingering at the edges of his mind, and around his dilapidated home.

'We. can wait,' the voice assured him with a malevolent chuckle 'You are all alone now, and you cannot stay strong for ever.'

'Alone? No, I have Mayel,' Abbot Doren muttered.

'Alone,' the voice continued, cold and assured, 'in a city of enemies, hunted, and all alone… all we need do is wait.'

All through the night the abbot wept silently, hearing that soft laughter in his head. When dawn at last arrived and Mayel had still not returned, he realised the voice had been correct. He was all alone, and the darkness was waiting.