Stealing through the funereal gloom towards the altar, Suviel's sense of revulsion deepened as she detected a sickly sweet perfume and under it the taint of rotting flesh. As they drew level with the altar she saw objects upon it, a long knife, several charred bowls, a small pile of shrivelled roots, and a wide, dark stain across the surface. Nerek urged her on as she slowed to look closer.
"We cannot linger. They are very near this place - "
A deep, insistent hammering began at the other end of the Congruence, shattering the silence, echoing back and forth. Then a jagged section of the far wall burst inward and a tall hulking form stepped through, wreathed in dust and a shimmering aura. Blazing golden eyes surveyed the murky interior, settling on Suviel.
"I will have the Eye, little mage. Do not stand in my way."
A smaller figure appeared by the Daemonkind's side, a woman dressed only in a long, pale shift but veiled in a similar nimbus of power. It was Keren. She stared over at the two by the altar, at Nerek, and Suviel sensed something unfathomable pass between them.
Then there was a mass roar of voices, and scores of Acolytes with green fire in their hands rushed in by the doors to either side. At the same time, there were tearing sounds from above and pieces of masonry and glass fell crashing among the the benches as winged shapes swooped down. Suviel staggered towards the doorway behind the altar, kept from falling by a watchful Nerek. With a last backward glance she saw the Daemonkind and Keren hemmed in by flaring webs of Wellsource power and fending off the flame-breathing nighthunters. She also caught a glimpse of a murderous Coireg moving in her direction before Nerek hauled her though the door and up the steps.
In a daze of desperation and fatigue, she stumbled up the steep stairs, one hand gripped by Nerek, the other leaning on the stairwell's stone hub for support. Utter exhaustion dragged at her mind and body. It seemed that every force of evil was harrying them, and she wondered if she would have the strength to make use of the Crystal Eye even if they found it.
When they reached the top, she knew she had nothing left. The tower room was square, with pillars on three sides which were otherwise open to the elements. A vigorous breeze made it bitterly cold, and Suviel seemed to recall that before the invasion this place used to be a private meditation platform for the chancellors of the academies. From here one could see across the peaks of Prekine to the lands of southern Anghatan and the great plains of eastern Khatris. And below the narrow surrounding ledge was a perilous drop onto the roof of the Basilica which sloped down to meet the crags and the sheer face of the Oshang Dakhal.
Head swimming, Suviel sat down heavily on a weathered wooden bench while Nerek crouched beside what looked like a stone casket set into the flagstone floor. She closed her eyes, weariness almost singing in her nerves, and could feel vibrations coming up through the bench. She whispered a prayer to the Earthmother that Keren would somehow survive.
A moment later, a cracking sound made her open her eyes to see the stone casket gaping wide and Nerek turning with both hands holding a pale blue sphere swaddled in white cloth.
"Take it," she said. "It would be my death to try and use it. This is meant for you."
Suviel sighed. "I am empty," she said, regarding the orb, its opaque radiance, the unmarred perfection of its glassy surface which caught few reflections in the dimness. She had only ever seen it twice before, both times at public ceremonies and from a considerable distance. Then, it had been the focus of many minds and much veneration, but now it seemed to have no presence, no aura that she could discern.
"I am empty," she whispered, but still reached out and took the Crystal Eye.
At once from below came a shrieking roar of rage, but for the moment Suviel was oblivious. It was as if every locked room in her mind sprang open, releasing a myriad memories. The faces and names of family and friends were hers again, as were the recollections of her days as a scholar here in Trevada, her time in Besh-Darok, the war, the long years of secret resistance. And Ikarno Mazaret.
That you were taken from me, she thought. May that never happen again.
There was a thunderous, reverberating crash from below and the tower shook. Nerek rushed to stand at the head of the steps and Suviel, her weariness washed away, rose from the bench.
"I may be able to use the Eye to take us somewhere safe," she said.
There was a rumble of falling stonework and Nerek turned to nod, green radiance limning her features. "That would be a good thing," she said. "Before they dig away the rubble."
Before Suviel could reply something struck the tower with violent force, knocking them both off their feet. A few pillars cracked and pieces of masonry fell over the ledge. Suviel felt a hand around her ankle, looked and saw that it was Keren, creeping towards her with an inhuman glow in her eyes.
"I know the odour of your spirit, mageling," came the Daemonkind's voice from nearby. "No matter where you fly to, I can hunt you down."
Then Nerek was there, leaping across from where she had fallen, reaching down to wrench Keren's grip away from Suviel's leg. Tightly clutching the Eye to her chest, Suviel retreated to stand with her back to one of the pillars. The two women were locked in a deadly embrace, hands about each others' neck, auras contending. Suviel turned and saw the Daemonkind standing on the ledge outside the pillars, calmly watching her.
"I must have the Eye, mage-woman. Freely given, it would bring great aid to my people."
"And thus betray my people?" Suviel said with scorn. "I think not."
"Your companion will soon be defeated. Give me the Eye and I will carry you both to safety."
Suviel laughed aloud and stepped between the nearest pillars, out onto the ledge. It was still colder out here, and the gulf of black emptiness yawned dangerously below her, yet her mind was clear and prepared. As the Daemonkind had talked, the Crystal Eye had shown her many things about him and his race, most importantly things she needed to know now.
"Just as you did in the Realm of the Fathertree?" she said. "Again, no."
The Daemonkind turned to face her along the line of columns. His form was dark and hulking, and he had crooked one huge arm round a pillar to keep his balance. Eyes hot as forge gold regarded her.
"Hear me, mage-woman, and understand this well - when the Lord of Twilight unites his warring selves, the Crystal Eye will be naught but a bauble set against the powers of his realm. In my realm, however, it would be of great use..."
"Yet it remains our sole weapon," she said, watching him, noticing the shift of muscles and stance. "And I shall not give it up. No, you hear me, Orgraaleshenoth, prince and deceiver - you have trespassed upon the Realm Between for far too long and it groans with the pain of your presence!"
"Your insect whine irritates me, and my patience is at an end."
But before the Daemonkind could leap at her, she clenched her fist as Enfold, the first thought-canto made for her by the Eye, spun into being. A blurring haze appeared around him and for a moment he was unable to move. She knew it would not last long, but it would be long enough.
"Your time here is at an end!" she cried, flinging out an arm to point at the night. "In the name of the Void - begone!"
From her trembling hand a dazzling mote of light flew forth to scribe a burning line in the air, a line which then tore open. At once a gusting wind sprang up to moan through the pillars. A rippling river of grey radiance poured out of the gap and straight towards the Daemonkind, enveloping him, trying to draw him back. But the creature had wrapped his arms about one of the undamaged pillars, and as he glared at Suviel he raised one leg and stamped down on the ledge.
The tower shook, and a crack appeared across the floor.
But Suviel felt as she had been squeezed out and wrung dry, and was unaware. As the spell had unfolded, the very force of her life and being had streamed out to fuel it, unstoppable as blood gouting from a severed neck. She sank to her knees on the ledge, one hand holding on to the Eye, the other grasping the nearest pillar. Insensibili
ty threatened to overwhelm her but by force of will she stayed conscious, head bowed but determined to finish the task. Then fear surged when she looked up to see the Daemonkind almost within arms reach. The grey radiance was pulling at him with a fearsome strength, such that his massive legs were hanging straight out. But he had kept his grip and was grappling his way from pillar to pillar towards her.
Then a loud crack came from the column to which he clung and fracture lines began racing across it. He howled in fury and with a mighty effort, hauled himself forward and clawed at the floor, chipping handholds in the flagstones.
But the dragging force of the grey radiance was increasing to the point where something had to give.
Still waveringly conscious, Suviel had watched the Daemonkind's exertions with a mixture of awe and dismay. Then she saw the widening black crack inside, on the tower floor. There was a grinding sound, the ledge lurched beneath her, and she knew that there was only one thing left for her to do. As her corner of the tower slowly broke away she summoned up the last shreds of her strength and tossed the Crystal Eye towards the two figures staring from the back of the tower.
Then she was falling amid a shower of disintegrating masonry. Above her, the tear between the realms swallowed the Daemonkind Orgraaleshenoth, cutting off his bellows of rage, and began to close.
She closed her eyes, picturing Ikarno Mazaret with his arms wide and his long face smiling and joyful. She smiled too...
A sharp and terrible instant of pain struck, then the door of life closed.
* * *
Keren cried out in horror and anguish as the corner of the tower cleaved away. She and the mirrorchild Nerek were on their knees and still holding on to each other, but all the formless hate and wordless hunger had gone. Seeking the death of the other, they had stared into each others eyes for long, twisted moments and found themselves wanting life. Instants which transformed fear into understanding and cold desire revelation. Her longings for the power and form of the Daemonkind dissolved like a half-made dream.
Suddenly truly awake, and watching Suviel fall to certain death, a terrible guilt seized her. Keren could only close her eyes and with a choking sob cling to her twin. Something thudded on the floor nearby and as the roar of collapsing stonework receded she was vaguely aware of Nerek making a slight movement.
"Open your eyes."
She couldn't, not now...
"Open your eyes..." Hands shook her by the shoulders. "Open them and look at me!"
Startled, she did so and stared into her own features, only harder, leaner and more cruel.
"She has passed the Crystal Eye into our keeping," Nerek said, taking Keren's hand in an iron grip. "And we must use it before the Acolytes dig their way up here." And she dragged Keren's hand relentlessly down and pressed it against the cold curved surface of what had to be the Crystal Eye.
All sight blurred in a ghostly blue haze though which strange faces and portents fell. This way, a voice said softly through the rain of images, and she caught glimpses of a smiling Suviel beckoning and pointing. This way. Fear forgotten, she leaned in that direction and heard an intake of breath from Nerek. The blueness deepened and enfolded her in layer after layer of paradox and meanings insoluble to her.
Then the blueness unwrapped her and the world, and Keren found herself kneeling, shivering, staring down at a fire-blackened, ash-strewn floor next to a yawning gap in a high wall. She was holding the Eye in both hands now, and beside her Nerek was getting to her feet. She looked up and gasped in terror at the great golden figure which loomed over them both.
"Where is the mage Suviel?"
The towering being seemed composed of a fine, swirling dust of amber and copper motes and in shape resembled the female form. But it was the girl hanging eyes shut and motionless within the giant torso which caught her attention. Then someone else came into sight, a middle-aged man in grubby travelling clothes. It was the archmage Bardow.
"Well, where is she? Is she dead?"
"Yes," Keren whispered. "Yes, she is."
The implacable golden eyes regarded her for a moment.
"Good. Then all is as it should be."
Keren saw Bardow's face sag with shock and grief. The tall being turned away as if to walk back into the hall, but then melted amid the shadows. As the glowing mist of its form thinned to a fading vapour, the girl sank to the floor and Bardow rushed to her side.
Keren could only sit there, with Nerek's steadying hand on her shoulder. When she glanced outside she saw a city, hills and distant fields, and felt a tearless numb relief. At last, the dawn had come.
EPILOGUE
Upon an ocean of death,
Cities of pain draw near.
—The Black Saga Of Culri Moal, xvi, 10
One
After a difficult ride through fields cluttered with the bloody debris of battle, Gilly found the Lord Commander upon the old fort ridge, seated at a smouldering fire with a beaker of mulled wine in his left hand while a physician bandaged his right shoulder. Mazaret greeted him warmly, sat him down with some wine of his own, then gave an account of the night's events. He told of how he and Yasgur became separated, then later joined forces and drove their attack towards the ridge. At that point, it appeared that a battle of sorcery had broken out amid the ruins of the fort, while from the sky had come scores of nightmarish creatures, attacking indiscriminately.
As the Mogaun broke and scattered in panic, Mazaret and Yasgur kept enough of their men together to make a determined push for the ridge. But they got there too late. From its foot, where bands of Mogaun fought a desperate last stand, Mazaret had looked up to see a glowing man throw the limp form of another onto the back of a nighthunter before climbing up himself. Then with a few massive wingbeats it had launched itself into the greying sky...
Mazaret paused in his tale and dismissed. Then he leaned forward with elbows on knees, his gaze level, iron straight.
"I know why you're here, Gilly. You've hardly said a word, and have just let me talk on and on." He took a deep, careful breath. "She is dead...isn't she?"
Gilly felt his inner misery slide into a kind of helpless anger, and he cursed Bardow for having forced this black burden upon him.
"Yes," he said simply. "But she did not fail - "
"How?"
"There was a struggle in a tower above the High Basilica. She banished one of the Daemonkind and sent the Crystal Eye back with Keren and then..."
Mazaret silenced him with a raised hand. "It's too much to hear...and too little."
He drained off the last of the wine and without another word rose and walked away from the fire. Gilly watched him go over to where a dozen horses were hitched around a young tree, and untie one. Moments later he was riding from the ruins, down the long slope of the ridge towards Besh-Darok. At the foot, he turned and headed southwest, riding hard as if fleeing the dawn.
Gilly heard footsteps behind him and looked to see Yasgur approach.
"Will his grief break him, ser Gilly?" asked the prince.
"Yes," Gilly answered in an unsteady voice. "I believe it will. But what matters is that he heals afterwards."
And maybe then I can tell him about his brother.
Out across the fields and broken meadows, the first pyres of the battle's dead were being lit, but the rider never looked back.
Two
From a balcony half-way up the Keep of Night, Alael looked down at the gardens of the Courts of the Morning. Birds flitted to and fro in the early afternoon sun, a couple of sheep wandering around grazing, and solitary gardener tended a large, sprawling heskel bush adorned with violet litrilu blooms. But she took no joy in the sight. A sense of desolate futility gripped her and nothing, not even the flowers and bowls of fruit decorating her bedchamber, could dispell it or the foreboding of her dreams.
She had not wanted to be an instrument of destiny, and had told Uncle Volyn as much during their ill-contrived attempt to flee Oumetra. Thereafter, events had conspired to
coerce her into that very role, and now the Lord Commander and Prince Yasgur had offered her the crown.
I have been the Earthmother's thrall, Alael had wanted to scream at them. How can you offer the throne to the puppet of a god who hungers only for revenge?
There were footsteps in the chamber behind her. It was Tauric. He still wore the battered leather jerkin, but now a dark blue cloak hung from his shoulders. There was no need to ask how he was – he had the hollow look which came from anguish and lack of sleep. With his metal hand he took a gezel fruit from a bowl at the foot of the bed, and came out to join her on the balcony. For a moment he stood still and silent, weary eyes taking the view of the palace and High Spire with its smoke-blackened upper windows. Then he spoke in a rush:
"I wish I had your power!"
Tears welled in his eyes. Head bowed he covered his face with his ordinary hand while leaning on the stone balustrade with the other. The gezel fell half-crushed on the tiled floor.
"Enemies...become friends..." he said, voice shaking. "Then friends turn out...to be enemies...and m-my real father is a... monster!..."
Alael's heart ached with pity for him, this boy forced to endure a man's fate. She reached out to draw him to her, to rest his head on her shoulder, and to do the only thing that could be done.
Listen.
Three
"We could break him in body and mind," said Thraelor with speculative malice. "I would find that most amusing, in the light of what his creatures did to my city."
"The consequences would be uncertain," pointed out Kodel. "Could it be possible that the fragment of the Lord of Twilight he carries would find another host? What disaster might come of that?"
"Yes," said Grazaan. "Better to keep him shackled here for now, and decide his fate later."
All three Shadowkings then glanced at Byrnak, awaiting his response. He smiled.
In a darkened chamber deep below the Basilica, Ystregul the Black Priest hung before them in a specially remade iron casket. Suspended on heavy chains linked to the corners of the ceiling, the casket covered every part of him except his face. The eyes glared and rolled and the lips mouthed curses and imprecations, but such grimacing happened very slowly and the voice was a low buzzing sound without sense or meaning. Within the spell cast upon him, time crawled.
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