The Twilight herald

CHAPTER 30

Doranei froze and shrank down beside the splintered trunk of a cherry tree that had fallen into the street. Up ahead he could see Mikiss, the Menin vampire, had stopped and was turning his head from left to right as though searching for a scent. Theirs was the smallest group, with only a handful of the Brotherhood to accompany Zhia, and they were trying to keep as far as possible from their supernatural allies.

The three remaining white-masked acolytes that Zhia had bought from the Jesters padded along nearby. She claimed they would remain completely loyal to her, even if she were fighting the Jesters them¬selves. Zhia's disparate army was completed by Haipar, Legana, the necromancer's servant Nai, and her own man, Panro, who carried a long canvas bag over one shoulder. Doranei guessed that the bag con¬tained a tent, a last resort should dawn catch them still in the open. Both Nai and Panro were armed with brutal steel-tipped clubs, which they had already had occasion to use on the journey here. Despite the fires that had destroyed large tracts of southern Scree, driving the mobs north, there were still packs holed up all over the city.

Doranei thought the people they were encountering now were different to the mobs. They were still frenzied, but tonight he saw human emotions creeping back in. He recognised terror, because of a Land they no longer understood, a fear that was strong enough to drive them to terrible deeds. This horror had a human soul again, and that frightened Doranei more.

He knew roughly where his comrades were, but they were out of sight now. King Emin was circling around behind their target, while the remaining King's Men had broken off to approach from the east.

The banks of cloud above were obscuring the stars, sliding over the city like a coffin lid. He kept his eyes on Mikiss, who'd been told to lead the way. He wondered whether he had sensed a threat, or just some tasty morsel on the breeze. These days either was possible.

A hand came from nowhere to touch him on the arm and Doranei flinched with shock, his sword rising of its own volition until the hand closed about his wrist and held it tight. He twisted to bring the axe in his left hand around, stopping dead when he saw Zhia's sapphire eyes glittering in the darkness.

'Do calm down,' she said. 'Are you always this jumpy before battle?'

'Yes,' Doranei hissed angrily. 'I'm following a maniac through a city of madmen, hunting down a mage with a Crystal Skull. I'm bloody terrified. I bleed a lot more easily than you do, remember?'

Zhia was silent at first as she stared at him. 'I'm sorry,' she said eventually. 'It is easy for me to forget that life is a precious thing. What you fear is the one thing I crave.'

Doranei felt a flush of shame as he saw the truth in Zhia's expres-sion, but he knew it wasn't pity she was hoping for. As she released his wrist, Doranei leaned his sword against the fallen tree trunk and took her cold fingers in his hand. 'I can't even imagine it, but I don't want to be the one who reminds you of that, not if it causes so much hurt.'

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 'For all of my little problems, there's still a part of me that remains human, and people need to be reminded of pain sometimes. Without it there cannot be joy.'

Doranei instinctively checked his companions. They were similarly crouched a short way away, carefully watching for dangers in the other direction. 'Perhaps now is not the best time-'

And when would be better?' Zhia asked sharply before her expres¬sion softened. Doranei realised how unused to letting her guard down Zhia was. And how could she live any other way?

'We're safe enough at the moment, and once this is over it may be years before our paths cross again.'

'I hope it will be sooner,' Doranei said quietly.

'So do I, sweetness,' she replied with a soft laugh, patting the steel-covered back of his hand fondly, 'but such things are not always so simple.'

'I know. Whatever my feelings, there's a war to fight here, and we may not always be on the same side.'

And that I know only too well,' she said sadly. 'It is when sides are taken that the greatest hurt is done'

She leaned closer to him and lifted his helm from his head, then kissed him with surprising force, her desire almost palpable. She held him tight for half a dozen heartbeats, one hand entwined in his hair to bring him hard against her, the other pressed against his chest, as though touching his heart.

'That's why the present should always be savoured,' she whispered when their lips parted. 'Never forget to enjoy something special when it's in front of you.'

Doranei nodded, unable to find the right words. As he looked at Zhia, he felt something on his lower lip. Raising a finger to it, he saw a single droplet of blood. His eyes widened.

Zhia gave him a coquettish smile. 'Just a little reminder of me, and something for me to remember, too.' Before he could say anything, she added, 'Don't worry, sweetness; a scar will be the only gift you get from that.' She gestured. 'I think someone is getting impatient to be off.'

Doranei saw Mikiss glaring at them. 'Are we sure we can trust him?' he asked.

Zhia waved a hand dismissively. 'They're always a little excitable in the first few days. Mikiss will be close to his old self soon enough.' She pointed to his sword, still resting against the tree trunk. 'Come on, sweetness, we're not finished tonight yet.'

They set off again as a brisker pace, moving as silently as possible, Mikiss still in the lead. The vampires were the only ones with their weapons still sheathed. Doranei had yet to see Zhia draw her long-handled sword. The only person who'd managed to slip past the acolytes to reach her had received a casual backhand slap for his trouble. Afterwards, when none of the attackers had been left stand¬ing, Doranei had knelt with his knife to finish the boy off. He guessed his age at fifteen summers, but it was hard to tell as he flailed weakly on the ground, the left side of his face smashed beyond recognition.

The fires had raged unchecked, and Doranei could still feel heat stinging his exposed cheeks whenever the gusty air switched direction, which it did with treacherous frequency. King Emin had travelled in a wide circle to avoid still-blazing areas, and no doubt the ground he was moving over was as hot and cracked as the earth under Doranei's own boots. He didn't know how long it had been since the fires had hurned out here, but there were still puffs of smoke here and there, and the stones scattered all around were blistering to touch, as Sebe discovered. He'd shared a nervous grin with Doranei at that, wryly acknowledging that his foolishness had been observed.

Sebe had kept his distance from Doranei since Zhia had joined them. Usually the two were to be found side by side; they'd grown up together, from the orphanage to the Brotherhood. They were brothers, in both senses. Now Sebe watched the lovers, trying to fathom exactly what was between them, and what it meant for the rest of the Brotherhood.

Doranei wasn't worried; Sebe had instinctively moved into his lee at the last attack. They fought well as a pair, and whatever private thoughts Sebe had, they would be shared only with the king, and only if he asked.

Not even Beyn would take action, not unless evidence was pro-duced, and Doranei knew he'd not be alive now if that had been the case. Usually a corrupt or traitor Brother was left thinking himself safe, until the day Coran appeared behind them in some deserted street… at which point the king's justice would be done.

Only llumene had expected that moment, and only llumene had survived. Doranei sighed. llumene, the son King Emin had never had. He had been friends with llumene from before he first became a true member of the Brotherhood. The man had been easy to like; almost from the outset it had been clear to all that he was first among equals, yet even the veterans had not begrudged llumene that. With his easy smile and sharp mind, llumene had quickly become the heartbeat of the Brotherhood, the one man untouched by the requirements of his job. Perhaps we should have thought harder about that. Doranei grimaced; those had been Sebe's words when llumene had betrayed them and gone on his killing spree, taking out the king's allies in Narkang.

Charisma been replaced with contempt as llumene grew more and more resentful that he would only ever be a member of the Brotherhood. He'd never spoken it aloud, but there'd been no need: everyone knew he wanted the king to name him as his heir. He had refused to recognise that it was too late for such a thing. By the time the relationship between llumene and the king had collapsed, llumene had been twisted by his own anger. As king he would have been a despot; desperate to surpass his adopted father's successes and uncaring of the suffering others would have to endure to achieve it.

A stone caught under his booi and he stumbled, earning reproachful looks from his companions for being so careless. The clatter had echoed as loud as a whip crack in the unnatural quiet of the empty street. Zhia gestured and they all stopped where they were.

'Our goal is just down there,' she said to Doranei softly, pointing to some burning remains about a hundred yards away.

'Are you certain?'

'No doubt. If you had any magical ability at all your head would be buzzing with the energy around that place.'

'It looks like the building exploded.'

'I suspect it did. Your king's mages both felt the Skull's use so clearly, and at such a distance that indicates a vast amount of magic unleashed in one moment.'

'Enough to kill you?' Doranei asked anxiously.

Zhia nodded. 'With ease. Our biggest problem is that this abbot of yours has lost his mind. He was lucky not to burn up that first time, and as it is he will have only hours left to live. A human body cannot survive such recklessness, but if he does not care for his own survival, he can negate my own skill through sheer raw power.'

'But you have a plan?'

She smiled, one long canine hooking her lip for a moment. 'Of course, sweetness-'

Zhia stopped as a pile of rubble exploded on Doranei's right and a figure burst out towards them. Axe raised, Doranei caught the impact before he'd even turned, but the force of the impact was enough to drive him back as he twisted his body to deflect the person. Something solid, a rock, maybe, caught him a blow on the back of the head, but it glanced off the steel band of his helm and in the next moment he'd come around to hammer the pommel of his sword into his attacker's skull. There was a dull crack and his attacker crashed face-first to the ground and went still.

Doranei's heart was still racing at the unexpected attack, but he straightened up and kicked the prone figure onto its back.

'Damn, a woman,' he muttered.

'She's still alive,' Zhia said, staring intently.

'How can you-' Doranei began, then, 'no, no I don't think I want to know.'

He put the tip of his sword to her throat, but the sight of her face stayed his hand. She was tall, as tall as Doranei, with strong healthy limbs, but even covered in the grime of weeks living as an animal he could tell she was young. 'Gods, she's hardly more than a child,' he muttered.

'Hardly surprising. The young will be the strongest,' Zhia com¬mented, walking around him to look down at the woman. 'But they're mindless creatures now, however young they are.' She looked up at him. 'Shall I finish her off? It's a kindness.'

Doranei stared back for a moment. 'Can you be certain of that? No, she's already unconscious. We'll be gone by the time she comes around, and who knows? Perhaps after tonight her mind will return.'

'She has lost her mind,' Zhia said gently. 'She has lost everything that made her a person. I'm certain of that.'

'You said yourself that you have never seen this spell's effects before,' he said heatedly. 'You can't be sure. They're innocents, all of them – as long as she's no danger to us, what harm is there in a little hope?'

Zhia opened her mouth to argue, but the words died unsaid. She looked around at the blasted landscape. She could see no hope here; it was as ghastly as the battlefields she remembered from her youth. It had a dead air about it: this was a desolate twilight world halfway between the Land and the Dark Place.

But perhaps hope is all that remains? Without the hope burning still so fiercely in his eyes, perhaps he would be just like them, an empty vessel. I have been so long without my humanity it shocks me to see it undiluted in those around me. Suddenly Zhia felt a stirring at the back of her mind, streams of magic shifting like some great beast lifting its head and testing the wind.

'Oh Gods,' she breathed, turning back to the fiery ruin up ahead just in time to see a sprawl of energy rise up in the air like tentacles spreading out from a nest in search of prey. 'He's discovered us,' she shouted.

Without waiting for her companions, Zhia ran for the house.

Doranei stared after her for a moment and felt a fierce glow of heat as she drew deeply on the reserves within her own Crystal Skull. With a cry he set off after her, Haipar at his side and Sebe behind, headed for the rapidly growing storm up ahead. The light from the fires shrank back as whipping cords of spitting energy flooded the area with a greenish glare that made Doranei's eyes water. He stumbled on, almost not seeing one of the bodies littering the ground lurch unexpectedly upwards, slashing wildly with dagger. He checked his stride and fell sideways, out of the dagger's reach, and caught a glimpse of Sebe at his back, axe raised.

Scrabbling to his feet, Doranei looked for Zhia. She was heading for the burning light of magic, running headlong into the centre of the wrecked house. She flashed from sight and something else caught Doranei's attention, a creature of some sort, indistinct through the haze, although he could tell it was massive.

A blind fear rose inside Doranei, but from somewhere he found new reserves of strength. With a howl he too dived over the barrier of flames and surging magic, trusting Zhia to have chosen the safest path. He rolled as he landed and jumped up, swinging both weapons. From the corner of one eye he glimpsed a long limb snapping out at him and something connected with his axe shaft. He caught sight of a hooked talon snagged on the axe before it was driven back into his chest and he was swept off his feet.

As he fell backwards, one of the Jester acolytes breached the fire and flew past him towards the creature. Bone rang on steel as the acolyte parried with greater finesse than Doranei had shown, but in the next instant he heard the wet slap of flesh being cut open. All his senses were screaming out in panic, but Doranei forced himself upright and away from where he'd landed, just as Mikiss cleared the flames, closely followed by Sebe and another acolyte. The vampire had a savage look of glee on his face, and both axes held out wide. With a swift blow he severed an arm reaching out towards him.

Doranei cried out in alarm as an enormous lioness flashed past him, only realising when it tore a great chunk of flesh from the creature that it was Haipar, rather than some new enemy. As the shapeshifter darted back out of range, Doranei slashed at the creature again, then flung himself to one side as a trident nearly impaled him. Sebe hacked at the shaft to try to break it, but was rewarded only with clang of metal as a feathered wing swept him off his feet.

Doranei jumped forward to defend his friend, fighting with reckless desperation, hitting out at the only part of the creature that was in reach. He was rewarded with a screech of pain, but the wound didn't slow it a fraction; he turned in time to catch a taloned limb just before it eviscerated him, turned again and hacked wildly up behind him to save Sebe from the stabbing trident.

The impact knocked the sword from Doranei's hand, but the moment of distraction proved enough. Through the flurry of feathered limbs, Doranei saw Mikiss attacking the creature from the other side, just before Legana jumped smoothly into the arena, throwing one of her swords straight at the body of the creature. As it struck home, the beast reared back, and Legana pressed forward fearlessly, slashing with all her strength into the creature's body. Mikiss joined her and Haipar buried her huge canines into one reaching arm, using her weight to pin the limb down and create an opening for the vampire. Doranei felt the splatter of gore on his face.

At last they stopped, each one of them gasping for breath and the massive lioness shaking ichor from her muzzle. In the next moment the raging streams of magic swirling and dancing all around them winked out of existence. They blinked at each other, half-blind in the sudden darkness. Doranei began to cough, but felt down for Sebe's arm to help him up. They stood for a moment, supporting themselves on each other as the glare slowly faded from their eyes.

'Congratulations, children,' came Zhia's voice from the darkness. 'You've killed your first God.'

They looked up blearily, searching in vain for the vampire until she used her Skull to cast a pale light. Doranei looked at his fellow victors. Legana looked unruffled, almost pristine, barely breathing hard, while Mikiss beamed with pleasure at the corpse at his feet. In the blink of an eye Haipar appeared as her more usual self, fully dressed, with a blade on her hip. She glared at Doranei when she saw him staring and he quickly turned away.

'God?' gasped Sebe, 'that was a GodV

Even dead and motionless at last, the creature was so unnatural, so bizarre, that it took him a while to identify the beak and face within the mess of feathers and angular limbs. It looked like nothing he'd ever seen, not even on a temple wall. In the weak light what he could make out of the mess looked daemonic more than divine.

'Erwillen the High Hunter. His Aspect-Guide,' Legana answered. 'The novice, what was his name? Mayel, yes, he told us about that. I should have realised it would have incarnated, given so great a source of magic'

'We've just killed a God?' Sebe moaned as Doranei retrieved his sword, trying not to look at the sticky mess coating the blade.

An insane one, if that make it any better,' Zhia said soothingly, looking around for any further dangers. Her strange sword was drip¬ping blood onto the remains of the minor God: rich, red blood that certainly was not ichor. 'The High Hunter was as crazed as the abbot.' She gave him a wolfish grin. 'Don't worry; the first one is always the hardest.'

Doranei ignored that last statement. 'You killed the abbot.' It wasn't a question; the evidence was dripping onto her toes.

'Oh yes, I know a few little tricks, and once he realised I had a Skull too he simply raised his shields against me.' She shook as much of the blood off her sword as possible. 'He forgot that shields to stop magic cannot stop steel, and his reactions were as slow as one might expect of an elderly monk.'

'It was really that easy?' Doranei asked in disbelief.

'Not entirely,' Zhia admitted, 'but it was always going to be very quick, or slow and completely awful for everyone within half a mile.' She gave a cold laugh. 'And, of course, he wasn't my first.'

The conversation ended as they saw one of the acolytes still on the ground, a huge gash pouring blood just below his ribs. Mikiss stood a yard away from the injured man, his attention alternating between a bloodied tear in his sleeve and the widening pool on the ground, as though he couldn't decide which fascinated him the most. Another acolyte, almost identical in both dress and build, was kneeling at the injured man's side. He had drawn a long dagger and for a moment Doranei wasn't sure if it was to threaten Mikiss.

Then the kneeling man put the dagger at his friend's throat, wrapped his hands around his friend's and drove forwards. He watched as the legs spasmed once, then went still, waited a moment longer, then let go of the dagger, still buried in his friend's neck, and slid the mask up over the pale cropped stubble of his head, revealing a young face, still ill with puppy-fat cheeks, and a flattened nose that looked like it bad been more than just badly broken. The tribesmen from the Waste didn't resemble any of the original seven tribes; the dead acolyte's skin was grey, as though dusted with ash. Doranei thought this no tribal custom, but a sign of how the Waste changed its inhabitants. They had been luckier than many; Doranei had spent a little time in the Waste, long enough to know that humans didn't survive there unchanged. It was for good reason that there were no cities on tbose verdant plains where once the ancient Elves had built their civilisation.

'Zhia,' he said suddenly, dragging bis eyes away from the dead. The vampire was crouched down in from of the dead Aspect oi Vellern;

she turned her head and gave him a quizzical look. 'Can you sense the minstrel? He must be here somewhere.'

'Why are you so certain?' She finished cleaning her sword on what looked like a wing and sheathed it, then stood up.

'Because he will not-' Doranei stopped dead. 'Where's the Skull?'

She nodded towards what was left of a cellar entrance. 'Down there, with the abbot.'

'You didn't bring it with you?'

Zhia scowled. 'I told you, I do not care for it, and frankly, I'm dis¬appointed in your king for wanting it so badly. Aryn Bwr gave it to his son because he knew Velere lacked the strength and majesty to rule after the war. It is a gift for the weak.'

'And what if it falls into the hands of the powerful?' Doranei asked angrily. The kneeling acolyte jerked his head at his tone, but Doranei ignored him.

'I hadn't thought you such a fool,' Zhia snapped in return. 'Your friend Rojak has orchestrated all this destruction, and still you don't see?' She swept her arm out wide to take in the ruins of the city in the distance.

'You think he's lured us here?' Doranei almost shouted his reply as he felt the smoulder of frustration and anger inside him suddenly ignite. 'Do you honestly think he would sacrifice the Skull of Ruling and hand it to his greatest enemy before an ambush?'

'I think we have all been blundering in the dark,' Zhia spat, shoot¬ing a warning look at Mikiss, who'd begun to edge towards Doranei. 'I think Rojak has been ten steps ahead for months, perhaps years, and underestimating him will get you killed. And yes, I think you have walked into an ambush.'

'Then what in the name of Ghenna's deepest pit are you doing here?' Doranei yelled, his temper boiling over.

Zhia's face softened and, quite unexpectedly, she smiled at him. 'Your simple-mindedness is rather endearing,' she said. 'I'm here be¬cause I knew you'll follow your king wherever he goes, and he will not be dissuaded in his pursuit.' She reached out and tenderly ran a gloved finger over the exposed skin of his cheek. And because I seem to have not learned from past mistakes I find myself trailing along after you.' Zhia paused and gave a sad smile. 'Still, I doubt there's much left for me in the way of punishment this time round.'

She stepped away and pointed out over the wreckage to the south.

Doranei followed her finger and looked through the waning flames to see a group of figures advancing on them. 'Here come your Brothers,' she said breezily, drawing her sword once more. '1 presume Rojak will consider that his cue.'

Doranei's anger had been supplanted by dread as the truth of her words sank in. Rojak had been the architect of this horror, and who could say how far his plans had run?

He staggered back, his ankle catching a splintered beam with enough force to drive a long splinter through the leather before break¬ing off. Doranei stared down at it as though he'd never seen such a thing before, his mind momentarily fogged. Inside his boot he could feel the sharp scratch of wood against his skin. The splinter – as long as his little finger and almost as thick – hadn't pushed into his flesh, but he could distinctly feel it scrape over his unbroken skin.

He broke out in a manic grin as he bent down to tug the piece of wood from his boot. He inspected the hole it had made. 'And I bleed so easily,' he muttered to himself, 'far too easily, in most cases.' Holding the splinter up to his face, Doranei examined it. 'But you, my friend, somehow you couldn't manage that,' he said, flicking the piece away into the crackling pyre.

He watched the curling flames dance as it was consumed, the heat making the air above waver indistinctly and stinging his eyes. He blinked furiously as he tried to clear his sight. He'd seen something beyond the flames, but what? A random shadow the heat had shaped into something more? Or-

'Oh Gods,' he breathed as his eyes focused again. Through the flames, staring back at him, was a massive eye. Gleaming gold in the firelight, the eye bobbed and wove through the darkness as it watched him. Oh vengeful Death, Doranei thought, hypnotised by the move¬ment, that's a long way to move a head. That's a long bloody neck.

Haipar saw it too and immediately leaped forward over the flames, her body morphing into her animal self, and disappeared into the darkness beyond. Without warning the eye snapped sideways and lunged forwards, the shine of another appearing as the creature turned to face Doranei. His hand tightened around his weapons as the head came close enough to the fire to be visible. A tapering muzzle opened to reveal long dagger-like fangs and rows of smaller teeth. Its head was crowned by fat, stubby horns.

Oh piss and daemons. Doranei scrambled backwards, almost falling over the fallen acolyte behind him. 'Wyvern!' he yelled, finding his voice at last.

The moment balanced on a knife-edge, the air charged with ex¬pectation as Doranei readied himself for the creature to leap through the flames. Distantly he heard Zhia spit harsh syllables he couldn't understand and the air shuddered with the impact of the spell. The fires ahead of him suddenly surged up bright and fierce into the night air, the heat striking him like a mailed fist. He raised an arm to protect his face as a reptilian shriek rang out.

'Haipar's out there,' Doranei yelled, but the only response was laugher from behind him – Mikiss – and he turned to see the vampire raise his axes expectantly. He gave the King's Man a comradely nod, his canines now elongated and gleaming in his smile. Doranei felt a small shiver; Mikiss had looked about to turn on him as he argued with Zhia, but now they were friends again? A soldier who couldn't depend on those beside him never lasted long.

'I can't help Haipar if she wants to fight on her own,' Zhia said calmly, her hands tracing shapes in the air as she continued to weave her magic. 'A wyvern means Mistress is working for Rojak now; I wonder how many of the Raylin I employed are now against us.' She shrugged. 'I don't suppose that will make much difference, even if they were all here.'

'Zhia!' Doranei had to shout to get her attention. 'However many are out there, so is King Emin and my Brothers. We have to help them.'

'And so we shall,' she replied almost dismissively, 'but I don't want to act prematurely.'

'What are you talking about?' he asked, but his voice was drowned out by an ear-splitting crack echoing around the street. Doranei turned back, unable to see anything through the flames but certain he recognised the sound of one of Cetarn's favourite spells. 'Do you hear?' he cried in dismay. 'They're being attacked. Zhia, please!'

A greenish glow pulsing with energy surrounded Zhia as she put her hand to the Skull she carried. 'Yes, I think you're right,' she said softly, before raising her voice to a shout that made Doranei's bones tremble. 'Koezh!'

The wall of fire winked out in an instant. Doranei blinked at the darkness, blind and afraid as he sensed movement all around him. Another whip-crack.sound rang out from somewhere to his right and as he took an involuntary step forward, something flashed towards him. Without thought he stepped aside and lashed out with his sword, which caught something, though his night-blindness obscured all detail. An inhuman snarl came from behind him – one of the vampires he guessed, but the sound was so savagely animal he could not tell whether it was Mikiss or Zhia – and a figure darted forwards, striking out at whatever he'd found.

Doranei didn't hesitate to follow; he'd done his share of sewer-fighting, combat in the dark where blows were guided by sound, following shadows moving in darkness. Something scraped down his chest and Doranei wheeled and struck again. He was rewarded with the splash of blood, or something like, on his face. He hacked upwards with his axe to catch any downward blow, and felt the blade bite. It was the opening he needed; stepping forward he thrust the point of his sword forward at chest height. Wherever on the enemy it had struck, it went in deep and was wrenched out of his grip.

Doranei let it go and sank silently to a crouch, chopping down at some movement at his feet in case it wasn't just the kick of a dying man's leg, but the edge only clattered against stone and made him gasp at the impact running through his hands. Nearby he heard a short laugh, someone who was enjoying this as much as Doranei wasn't.

'Not bad,' Mikiss said in his heavy Menin accent, stepping out of the gloom to look Doranei in the face. All around the darkness began to resolve into shapes as detail returned, figures running past, paying them no heed. He looked down at where he thought the corpse would be, but had to adjust his gaze to several yards further away.

'Not bad at all,' Mikiss continued, 'you couldn't even see it like I could, and you're the one that dealt the final blow.'

Doranei's eyes widened as he saw the twitching body of the wyvern on the ground, the hilt of his sword protruding from its mouth. Gods, I drove my hand in there? The head was at an angle, and the hilt rested against the wicked curved tip of its upper fang. Someone was looking down on me with a kind heart; a few inches to either side and all I'd have caught would have been one of those teeth in the back of my hand.

Mikiss was clearly thinking the same thing as he tugged the sword from the wyvern's head and offered it to the King's Man. A perfect strike,' he said. An uncertain expression crossed his face, wavering between fearful and awestruck.

For a moment Doranei caught a glimpse of the man Mikiss must have once been. He gave a brusque nod in reply and turned his attention to the figures streaming past. Over the thump of boots on the ground he heard weapons clashing and screams of the dying, but he could see little other than the flood of soldiers filling the street, charging towards the sounds of battle with grim intent. Haipar was nowhere to be seen.

They were a ragged bunch, looking more like heavily armed savages. Doranei turned to look at Mikiss, about to ask why they were being ignored by the newcomers, when one slowed to look at them stand' ing over the body of the wyvern, his jaw hanging open in a lopsided grin. His tattered leathers and rusting mail hung loose on his body. His baldric was drawn tight, as if that was all that was holding him together. His tightly stretched skin was filthy – no spare meat on this one… or any of them, Doranei now saw as he looked more closely.

These men were all lean, verging on withered; they looked fragile, but they carried their massive swords and axes with ease. It was their faces that made the King's Man blanch. Doranei looked closer at the man who had slowed to look at the wyvern and saw one side of his face had been brutally shattered at some point, his ear was a mangled mess and there as an unnatural indentation in his neck. No man could still be standing with an injury like that. No living man.

What was it Zhia had called her brother's troops? The Legion 0/ the Damned? A soft groan escaped Doranei's lips. 'Gods, is there anyone actually alive in this city?'

Mikiss broke out into a fit of laughter, dropping one of his axes and reaching for Doranei's shoulder for support as his body shook. The fingers dug hard into his shoulder, pushing through the stiffened leather and mail as though they were not even there. Doranei winced as he was driven down onto one knee and his sword slipped from his hand as his fingers opened of their own accord.

'Be careful, pet,' the vampire hissed in his ear, his laughter ending suddenly. 'Your life is in our hands.'

'Ahem,' said Zhia, behind them. Doranei felt Mikiss flinch at the sound of her voice, but the grip did not lessen. 'My hands, I believe, not yours.'

The fingers dug harder for a moment as a scowl passed over Mikiss' face, but he released the King's Man and stepped away, not about to try facing Zhia down. Doranei felt her hands under his arm, but he shook them off and rose oi his own volition.

'What's happening here?' he said in a daze. 'I thought you said they would make matters worse?'

'Worse?' Zhia repeated. 'This place is dead; there is no worse to be found here.' She pointed towards where Doranei had seen men fighting a few moments earlier. Someone was lying on the ground, sur¬rounded by Koezh's men. Doranei took a long look before he realised the white face he saw was a mask identical to that worn by the Jester acolyte who stood not more than three yards away. Looking around, he saw more, half a dozen dead in a circle where they'd tried to defend themselves against overwhelming odds. Doranei looked around. The acolyte he had been fighting alongside a minute ago was nowhere to be seen, vanished into the night.

'Rojak cannot have been expecting this,' Zhia said. 'His ambushers were horribly outnumbered. I'm sure the Jesters will have retreated immediately, but any of Azaer's other followers who failed to leave at once are most certainly now dead.' Her face took on the cold ex¬pression of a woman who'd lived to see every horror the Land could conjure. 'This ends, here and now.'

'What do you mean?'

'Come with me.' Zhia turned away.

Doranei retrieved his sword again and ran after Zhia walked through the smoking devastation, entirely at her ease, moving swiftly, though without haste or urgency. The crowds of soldiers parted before her, though Zhia showed no sign of even registering their presence as she headed for a tight ring for soldiers who stood with weapons raised defensively, eyeing the mercenaries, who were looking at them wiih ambiguous intent.

This cannot be normal, even for her, Doranei thought as he trotted along behind.

In the dim light Doranei had to get closer before he recognised faces in the crowd, though he had already spotted the slumped shapes at their feet that indicated casualties. Clearly the damned had not been the only ones fighting, even if they had ended it swiftly.

Zhia changed direction before she reached King Emin's group to approach a man fully suited in black armour, her brother. His long sword was still sheathed; whatever resistance Rojak had been able to muster, it had not taxed Koezh enough to draw his weapons, not even the dagger at his hip. Doranei had fell Zhia's unnatural strength, so he knew the vampire was far from defenceless. Black-iron gauntlets and a

punch to shatter stone – would even Coran force this famous swordsman to draw? He took a moment to study the armour. If they ever faced the Menin in battle, that would be how Kastan Styrax appeared because he had stripped an identical suit from Koezh's corpse.

As Zhia reached him, Koezh stopped his silent inspection of the Narkang soldiers and turned to greet his sister, removing his helm to reveal his smooth face, untouched by years, and the glittering sap¬phire eyes, so like and yet unlike Zhia's. Neither spoke, but Koezh gave his sister the briefest of nods. What was more surprising was the grunt of acknowledgement Koezh favoured him with. This was still the stuff of uncomfortable dreams; that he could be on nodding terms with such a man – such a monster. He recalled the last time they'd met – was it really just a handful of nights ago? – when he had sat just a couple of feet from Koezh, unable to pay any attention to the repellent play on stage because his attention was fixed so firmly on the terrifying siblings. He found Zhia Vukotic completely captivating, to be sure, but Koezh Vukotic was said to be the closest a man had ever come to the greatness that was Aryn Bwr, and it was those similarities that had condemned the Vukotic tribe to rebellion and heresy. That remarkable ruling family had been closer to the Elves than to their own people. He shivered.

'King Emin,' Zhia called, 'I have a gift for you.'

Doranei saw the surrounding King's Men tense and ready their weapons. He could only see one member of the Brotherhood amongst the dead, but he was face-down. The others looked to be Jester acolytes, and he spotted one of the gentry Rojak had used as guards at the theatre. As he approached, Doranei saw the gentry had not gone down easily. It wore only ragged trousers, and its exposed skin was bright white in the darkness, cross-crossed with long gashes. The Brotherhood were trained to be efficient fighters; so many deep cuts meant the creature could endure far more than any man.

Coran, the king's white-eye bodyguard, stepped to one side to reveal his liege. The king was still wearing his ridiculous brimmed hat, a feather stuck in the band, but the look on his face was far from cheerful.

'A gift? You have the Skull?'

'Something far more precious to you.'

The king looked momentarily disarmed. 'You have the minstrel.? Where?'

Doranei felt a jump in his chest. He'd not seen the minstrel any¬where – he had never seen the man himself, though he was sure he would recognise the emptiness in Rojak's eyes. How could Zhia be so certain she had him?

As if in answer, she pointed down the street to a dark husk of a building a hundred yards off, one that had fared better than most in the area. There were a hundred or more of Koezh's undead ringing the building, keeping a careful distance, but with their weapons at the ready.

'You will find him within,' she said calmly. 'You might want to hurry, even though he's not going anywhere.'

'And what do I owe you for this gift?' King Emin hadn't moved, despite the hunger Doranei could see in his face, a hunger echoed in his own heart.

'A favour,' she said. Doranei recognised her tone of voice now; Zhia intended to give away nothing more. '1 believe it is now time to leave the city, I suggest you do the same once your business with the minstrel is complete.'

'I have more business in this city than just the minstrel.'

Zhia gave an empty laugh. 'There will be no city come the morn¬ing, only ash and rubble. The Legion of the Damned has driven off all of your minstrel's remaining guards. There is no one else here.' She didn't give the king time to reply, but turned sharply and started walking back the way she had come, Koezh falling in behind her and the undead warriors breaking into a run to stream ahead of the pair as if to clear a path for them.

Doranei held his ground, unable to go anywhere without collid¬ing with one of the mercenaries. He sensed rather than saw Mikiss join the flow, but of those he'd fought beside, it was only Zhia who recognised he was still there.

She paused at his side, while her brother walked straight past, ap¬parently oblivious, and looked at him. A cruel breath of wind brought her perfume to his nose, a faint, sweet scent of flowers, enough to make him catch his breath, before he was caught in the piercing blue of her eyes.

'Look after yourself, Doranei,' she whispered. He blinked. He couldn't remember her ever addressing him by name before.

'1 don't suppose 1 need to say the same to you,' he croaked.

She reached out finger and touched him on the cheek. 'Perhaps not, but I am glad it crossed your mind. Now go, you should be there when your king finishes this. You will see me again, when you least expect it, once twilight darkens the sky.'

'Twilight has come for all of us,' Doranei replied without thinking.

'Then it will be soon,' she said softly, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before following her brother. Unable to stop himself, Doranei turned to watch her go. Her loose black hair billowed in the wind. She looked a ghostly figure against the night sky.

He jerked awake from his reverie as Coran's deep growl broke the air and the Brotherhood rushed to secure the house Zhia had indi¬cated. One last, fruitless, look around to see if he could work out what had happened to Haipar and he returned to his obligations, sprinting to his king's side.