by John Gwynne
Asroth’s throne room. He felt a surge of fear coursing through his veins, paralysing him.
Why have I done this? What kind of fool am I?
‘Remember, this is what you asked for,’ Calidus said to him, still bound in his human form, appearing small and frail amidst the might of Asroth’s Kadoshim.
And they were everywhere. Thousands of them, beyond counting. Not the shadowy wraiths he had witnessed emerge from the cauldron in Murias, but solid, grey-skinned creatures of scale and fang and wing. They wore coats of dark mail and bore spear and sword, regarding him with curious stares. The air crackled as one close by stretched its bat-like wings.
Uthas wrenched his eyes away from them and paced down the aisle before him, focusing on Calidus’ back. He had walked what felt like a long way when a sound drew his eyes.
A scream.
He looked to his left, saw a figure chained to a post. A winged man, or what was left of a winged man.
He is Ben-Elim.
Uthas stopped and stared.
One wing of white feathers, stained with blood and grime, hung broken and useless from his back. The other wing was gone altogether, all that was left of it a frayed stump protruding from the Ben-Elim’s back. He was chained to the post, suspended by iron collars about his wrists, head slumped, dark hair hanging. Another collar of iron was fixed about his neck, the chain secured to an iron ring embedded into the ground. As Uthas stood and stared, the Ben-Elim raised his head, dark eyes fixing him.
‘Help me,’ the Ben-Elim whispered through cracked and swollen lips.
‘Why do you not just kill him?’ Uthas asked.
‘Where would be the fun in that?’ Calidus replied. ‘Besides, life and death are not the same, here in the Otherworld. It is nigh impossible to slay one of Elyon’s Firstborn. They have tried.’ He shrugged at the Kadoshim nearby. ‘So we settle for pain.’
Uthas could not take his eyes away. As he stared, a Kadoshim approached the Ben-Elim, buried a spear-blade into his belly, twisting it; the Ben-Elim screamed in agony.
‘Onwards,’ Calidus said and they carried on, the screams fading behind them.
Eventually they came to wide steps that stretched the entire length of the chamber. Uthas climbed, at their top saw a figure sitting upon a throne that resembled the looping coils of a great wyrm. The figure was reclining, a leg draped across one coiled arm of the throne.
Asroth.
He radiated power, silver hair bound into a single, thick warrior braid. He wore a coat of oil-dark mail, leathery wings curled tight behind him. Kadoshim stood about him, some were guards holding bright spears, others were in conversation with the Lord of the Fallen. They fell silent as Calidus and Uthas approached.
‘I bring an ally, my King,’ Calidus said, more reverence and fear in his voice than Uthas would have thought possible. ‘Uthas of the Benothi clan.’
Black eyes in a milky-pale face that could have been carved from alabaster regarded Uthas.
Asroth rose from his chair and paced forward. The ground smoked and hissed with each footstep, leaving behind a blackened imprint.
‘Welcome to my home,’ Asroth said, smiling through blue-tinged lips.
‘My lord,’ Uthas said. He stood a hand taller than Asroth, but still his legs were suddenly weak and he slid to his knees.
Asroth crouched before him, a broken-nailed finger tracing Uthas’ chin, lifting his head so that their eyes met. The ground lurched beneath Uthas’ feet, he felt as if he was falling. He did not much care for the sensation.
Asroth licked his lips with a black tongue, as if tasting the air. ‘I know you,’ he said. ‘You are mine.’
‘I am,’ Uthas heard himself say, voice dry as gravel. He remembered vividly when Rhin had conjured Asroth through spells and flame. At the time it had been terrifying and exhilarating both. This time it was mostly terrifying.
‘Why are you here?’ Asroth asked.
‘Uthas has information of value to our cause,’ Calidus said. ‘He knows the whereabouts of two of the Treasures.’
‘That will be most helpful,’ Asroth said. ‘They are vital to our campaign. Which Treasures?’
‘The cup and the necklace, my lord,’ Uthas said.
‘Nemain’s necklace,’ Asroth said quietly. He closed his eyes, dark veins tracing his eyelids. ‘I remember seeing it about her neck as she fought me.’ He smiled, opening his eyes. ‘She had spirit. And you slew her.’
‘I did,’ Uthas said, feeling both shame and pride flow through him.
‘So where are these Treasures?’
‘I am aware of their last known locations,’ Uthas said.
‘Not quite the same as where they are now,’ Asroth said.
‘No, my lord, but it is unlikely that they have been moved.’
Asroth nodded. ‘So. Where are these last-known locations?’
Uthas paused, fighting the urge to speak, to spill the information from his mouth. He clenched his teeth together.
‘Uthas would ask a reward of you, for this information,’ Calidus said.
Thank you, thought Uthas. Never had he felt more grateful to someone for speaking for him.
Asroth frowned, his alabaster skin creasing like old parchment.
‘You would bargain with me?’
‘No, my lord,’ Uthas uttered. ‘A reward . . .’
‘Ahh.’ Asroth stood and strode back to his chair, his leathery wings wrapping around him as he sat. ‘It is true, I reward those who serve me – successfully. And punish those who fail me. What reward do you wish for?’
‘To be King of the giant clans – and to rule from Drassil, our ancient home. When the war is won.’
‘But your giants are Sundered. Even I cannot change what is already done.’
‘I ask that they be given the choice, in this God-War. Those who join your cause have me as their lord, your vassal king. Those that refuse, back to dust.’
Asroth smiled. ‘That does not seem unreasonable. I agree. If you are successful in your part of the bargain. Calidus must have these Treasures in his possession before your part is deemed fulfilled. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ said Uthas.
‘Good. Now, where are these Treasures?’
‘The necklace is in a tomb in the tunnels beneath Dun Carreg. The cup was lost in the marshes around Dun Taras. I know the location, but I have never been able to search there because it is in sight of the walls of Dun Taras. The men of Domhain would have fallen upon us. But now, Domhain belongs to Rhin, so I would have the freedom to search.’
‘Can you find them? Bring them to Calidus?’
‘I believe so,’ Uthas said.
‘You can, or you cannot. Which is it?’ Asroth’s voice was a deep basal rumble, filling his senses like a vapour.
Uthas licked his lips, which were abruptly dry. ‘I can. I will.’
Asroth grinned. ‘Good. I am pleased.’ He held his arm out, black veins mapping it. He pressed a long, broken nail against the pale flesh, drew a line, dark blood welling.
‘A bargain must always be sealed in blood, no?’
Uthas nodded and Asroth gripped his wrist, pulled his arm out and dragged a sharp nail across the inside of his forearm. His flesh parted as if cut with the sharpest iron, feeling as if Asroth had lit a fire in his veins, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to show any weakness.
Asroth wrapped long fingers about Uthas’ forearm in the warrior grip, their blood mingling. Within heartbeats Uthas was feeling dizzy, intoxicated.
‘Bring me the cup and necklace,’ Asroth growled as he released his grip.
Dimly Uthas was aware of Calidus leading him from the great chamber, walking out into the pale light of the Otherworld.
‘You must return to the world of flesh now,’ Calidus said to him.
‘What of you?’ Uthas said. He blinked, trying to focus. He was aware that he did not want to leave Calidus. He had come to find the old man’s presence comforting in this grey world.
&nbs
p; ‘I have another ally to meet,’ Calidus sighed. ‘My work is never done.’
Uthas woke to the sound of Calidus screaming.
He staggered upright, reaching for his spear. His arm throbbed and he looked down to see a scab of black blood. He blinked and shook his head, for a moment a vision of Asroth’s pale face and dark eyes consuming his mind.
Moonlight shone upon Salach, who lay close by, seemingly reaching full alertness before Uthas. Eisa was curled beside him.
Uthas felt a pang of jealousy, but quickly buried it.
We find comfort where we can, and in these end days it is rare and often short-lived.
More screams rang out, magnified by the darkness. Uthas followed the sounds, Calidus’ voice distinct, even in rage. And the screaming was soaked with it – not fear, not pain, not even anger, but pure, undiluted rage. As Uthas drew closer he heard the rasp of a sword drawn, the thud of iron cutting flesh, a wild neighing, then Uthas saw him.
Calidus was standing amidst the paddocked horses that pulled their wains. He was hacking at a stallion, the beast already fallen to its knees, eyes rolling white, blood spurting black in the night from a great rent in its neck. Even as Uthas stood and stared, dumbstruck, the animal crashed onto its side, legs kicking as if it were running. With a shiver it lay still.
He has gone mad.
‘Calidus,’ Uthas called out, striding over to him. He was dimly aware of footsteps behind him, Salach, no doubt, as well as a growing number of Kadoshim. Uthas dipped beneath a rope bound between trees. Calidus turned his eyes upon the giant, blazing with malice, and Uthas froze, deciding that getting too close to Calidus with sword still in hand might not be the wisest move.
‘What is wrong?’ Uthas asked.
‘Incompetent. Fools,’ Calidus hissed, then turned and swung his sword overhead, chopping into the dead horse, wrenching his blade free in a spray of blood and bone.
‘Who?’ Uthas asked.
‘Rhin. Veradis.’ With each name he hacked into the horse again. Then once more. Finally he pulled his blade free and leaned upon it, chest heaving, head bowed. After a while he wiped his blade clean on the horse’s carcass and strode to Uthas, saw a crowd of faces staring back at him.
‘Meical and his puppet have escaped,’ Calidus said, all calmness and composure now, although somewhat ruined by the streaks of blood splattering his pale face and silvery hair. ‘And the Vin Thalun fleet is burned, sunk or stolen.’
‘What! How can that be?’
‘They attacked the Vin Thalun fleet moored at Uthandun, stole some ships and sailed east, burned the rest. The details are vague. We shall have to wait until we see Rhin face to face for the finer details. I met her in the Otherworld and must confess, I became . . . a touch irritated. She fled from me.’
I can understand why.
‘Meical is behind it, of that I have no doubt,’ Calidus said.
‘We could change course, pursue them, perhaps catch them before they leave the Darkwood.’
‘No,’ Calidus snapped. ‘The opportunity was too great to resist – to catch them between our two warbands. But to change course, chase them across the Banished Lands. No. I cannot lose sight of the task I have been set.’
‘What do you mean?’ Uthas asked.
‘I was not clothed in flesh to destroy Meical’s Bright Star,’ Calidus snarled at him. ‘My task is to make Asroth flesh. To bring him across the divide, from the Otherworld to this world of flesh.’ He shrugged. ‘Once that is accomplished, Meical and his Bright Star will die. It will be inevitable. Though this was still an opportunity missed, and causes me to doubt those I have raised about me.’
Uthas reached inside his cloak and drew out a leather flask. He pulled out the stopper, the oaky scent of usque drifting out, and offered it to Calidus.
‘A good idea,’ Calidus muttered, taking a long drink from the flask.
A glow in the east heralded the coming of dawn.
‘Make ready,’ Calidus called. ‘I will see Uthandun today.’
Figures melted back into the darkness, Kadoshim seeing to their packs, going about the tasks of breaking camp.
Uthas looked at the humped shadow of the butchered horse.
The cauldron’s wain will move slower, not faster, with one less horse pulling.
Calidus followed Uthas’ gaze over his shoulder to the dead animal.
‘Tell Nathair he can give that to his draig.’
Uthandun appeared as they crested a hill, the Darkwood a solid wall behind it, between fortress and trees a river glittering in the sunlight. Even from this distance Uthas could see the blackened hulls of ships half-submerged in its waters. Beside him Calidus hissed an expelled breath, the extent of his rage now. A vent to the deep ocean of fury that no doubt still surged within him.
He must have been angry indeed. I have never known Calidus to be anything but calculated control.
They rode down the slope, Calidus looking either side at the remains of fires, here and there were branches tied in the loose shapes of men, wrapped in cloaks. His mouth twisted in disgust. Behind them the wain carrying the cauldron rumbled over the crest of the hill, pulled by seven horses and a dozen giants. Uthas had ordered Benothi strength to replace the dead horse and ensure that they reached Uthandun before nightfall. Surrounding the great wain were the Kadoshim. They had changed over the course of their journey from Murias. Calidus had taught them a measure of self-control – they still had a taste for flesh, but Calidus had instructed them how to cook and eat like normal men, and also how to use and care for their host bodies of flesh and blood, like a treasured weapon. Now they looked comfortable in their skins, no ungainly jerks or spasms, and they had learned to use their hosts’ voices, as well as harness their skills. They had learned discipline.
A fearsome combination – the skill of the Jehar and the strength of the Kadoshim. They exuded power, almost a physical thing, like waves of heat rippling about them on a hot summer’s day.
Calidus spurred his mount on, speeding up to ride alongside Nathair, who rode at the head of their column. He sat straight-backed upon his draig, the beast’s belly swollen and swaying with its recent meal. Alcyon was striding beside Nathair, as always.
This will be a test for our young king, Uthas thought. He had been mostly a silent travelling companion. That is understandable, he has had much to think on, and grow accustomed to. Not least selling his soul to Asroth.
Occasionally Nathair had asked Calidus a question – usually on the subject of the new order that Calidus had hinted at, sometimes about a strategy for the coming war. He had always seemed, if not submissive, then at least resigned to the stark realities of his new world.
But he will see Veradis soon. Then we will see where his loyalties truly lie.
‘You are ready for this?’ Calidus asked Nathair.
Nathair looked at Calidus, his face stern, otherwise emotionless.
He is learning to mask his feelings.
‘Of course,’ Nathair said. ‘I have made my choice, and sealed that bargain.’ His lips twisted briefly.
Though he still has some way to go with that.
‘You need not worry, Calidus.’
‘I always worry,’ Calidus said with a shrug. ‘It is why I am still alive, and why we are winning this war.’
‘I will perform my task. Play the king, the figurehead.’
‘You are far more than that, Nathair. You are my supreme general, and unlike Rhin, you have never failed at a task.’
I would not wish to be in Rhin’s cloak when they meet. Nathair straightened at that.
How fickle are these men, who are swayed so by a little flattery.
‘And you remember what to say, in our war council?’
‘I do. Certain things must be made to happen.’
‘Indeed. And Veradis,’ Calidus probed. ‘You are prepared for meeting him?’
‘I am,’ Nathair said with a sigh. ‘He is a good man; he is my friend.’
Alcyon gr
unted beside Nathair, the first sound the giant had made.
‘He will not understand . . .’ Nathair trailed off. ‘He will not understand the complexities of our situation. Yet. But in time I hope to be candid with him. Bring him into your, our, circle . . . ?’ It was a question more than a statement, Nathair looking almost pleadingly at Calidus.
‘Of course,’ Calidus said. ‘I am fond of Veradis.’
Alcyon looked at Calidus, brows furrowed.
Uthas watched the giant suspiciously. ‘And Veradis is a great asset,’ Calidus continued. ‘Skilled, more loyal than a faithful hound. A fighter and a tactician. I have many plans for Veradis.’
‘Good,’ Nathair said with a curt nod.
From Alcyon’s expression, the giant was not as convinced.
Uthas sat in a chamber high in Uthandun’s keep. Unlike most of the fortresses that served as mankind’s seats of power in the Banished Lands, it was not giant made, nor stone, just timber and thatch, and so it was cramped and uncomfortable, doors too narrow, ceilings too low. There were no chairs suitable for a giant, and so Uthas and Alcyon stood behind Nathair and Calidus. The Kadoshim Sumur was also there, stood a pace behind Nathair, his eyes dark pools in a pale face.
The door opened and Rhin walked in, warriors behind her. With a wave of her hand she ordered them to remain in the corridor. Rhin shut the door and sat. She looked tired, dark shadows beneath her eyes. Uthas felt a wave of sympathy for her. She had been many things to him over the years – his enemy, his captor, torturer, saviour, and finally, strangely, friend. But he knew he could not help her now. Calidus glowered at her in her chair. Slowly she raised her eyes and met his gaze. A silence grew. She did not look away.
‘Well?’ Calidus eventually said, his voice breaking the quiet like a whip-crack.
‘We were outmanoeuvred,’ Rhin said. ‘A battle lost, not the war.’
Calidus slowly stood, the leather of his surcoat creaking. With deliberate steps he walked around the table to Rhin and stood beside her. He laid a hand on her shoulder. She twitched.
‘You have made a mistake,’ Calidus said, a whisper that filled the room.
‘Yes, I ca—’
‘No,’ Calidus said. ‘Do not shame yourself with excuses. There are no pretences amongst us, Asroth’s inner circle.’