‘They are the makers of worlds then.’
‘Worlds are born from the cinders of dead stars, Skillen Droe. No fire burns true. Something is always left behind.’ He glanced at his companion. ‘Or are you without such uninvited visions? The violent births, realm upon realm, age after age?’
Skillen Droe shrugged his sharp, angled shoulders. ‘I know them, yet deem them nothing more than our own birth memories, the eruption of light, the shock of cold air, the sudden comprehension of our innate helplessness. We enter the world unprepared and, if we will indeed prove to be mortal, we stumble to its end, also unprepared.’
‘And the Builders?’
‘The forces of nature will take note of us, on occasion, as if we were no more than flies buzzing before the face. Mortality is but a brief iteration, an enunciation of the ineffable; worthy of an instant’s wonder, until the after-image dims and fades before the eye, and then, aptly, forgotten.’ Skillen Droe spread his wings. ‘This air is foul. But you were right.’
‘About what?’
‘Dragons have passed this way. You said that one or two would be drawn back to the gate. And the gate has indeed wandered and now awaits us to the north. And yes, Ardata remains.’ He turned to eye K’rul. ‘Just as you said. Tell me, does this ever-flowing blood of yours lend you a new sensitivity? Does your awareness now encompass this entire realm? In loosing your blood, K’rul, have you perhaps deceived us all, and now make claim to unimagined power and influence? You create a new realm with this magic. It seeps out and stains all within reach, and that reach spreads. And who stands at its heart? Why, only modest K’rul, dripping generosity. So, I must ask: have you usurped us?’
K’rul scratched at the stubble of his beard. ‘Oh, I suppose so, Skillen Droe. But temper your indignation, my friend, for the one who stands at the heart stands there in weakness, not strength.’ He grimaced. ‘I am not Ardata, with her webs and hunger. The centre of my empire, such as it is, demands no sacrifice. I am that sacrifice.’
‘To worship is to lap at your blood, then, where it drips from the dais.’
‘Errastas and Sechul Lath discovered a more brutal way of feeding on blood, couched in the language of violence and death. Their path opposes mine, but that makes it no less powerful. Indeed, perhaps, given its seductive qualities appealing to the worst in us, it shall overpower me in time.’ He paused, and then sighed. ‘I do fear that, and yet, what moves I make against them, I cannot do alone.’
‘Me, your ignorant, naïve ally.’
‘And dragons.’
‘And Ardata?’
‘I don’t know, to be honest. I am curious, of course. What holds her there, upon the shores of the Vitr, beneath the gate of Starvald Demelain? Is it simply the loss of the Queen of Dreams? Or is there something else, something more? A web, after all, can be more than just a trap. It can also be a means of holding everything together, keeping it from tearing itself apart.’
‘You ascribe to her motives far too much generosity of spirit, K’rul. She is Azathanai, no different from you or me in our manner of disguising secret purpose, hidden motivations, beneath our laudable gestures.’ A long-fingered, talon-clad hand waved languidly. ‘Like this one, and your unseen Empire of Weakness. I do not comprehend you, K’rul. What ruler seeks to rule an empire by asking for the empathy of its citizens?’
‘And if empathy – and compassion – are that empire’s only source of strength?’
‘Then, my friend, you and it are doomed.’
K’rul considered that. ‘Errastas’s path is a dead end.’
‘Errastas’s path places no value in where it ends, dead or otherwise.’
‘Yes, you may have a point there.’
‘I will help you, but only so far, K’rul. I have no interest in attending your eventual demise. But for what we must do, here and now, Ardata will be essential. And she does not like me.’
‘I will speak on your behalf, Skillen Droe, and seek from her …’ he smiled, ‘a little empathy.’
They turned away from the Vitr then, and set out, angling somewhat inland from the sea’s caustic bite, and continued walking northward.
It was in K’rul’s mind that Ardata would counter his request with one of her own. He wondered if Skillen Droe understood that. But it is the dragons who will decide, and what could be more troubling than to elect dragons as the arbiters of what is just?
Night was settling upon the world, the first stars burning awake overhead. They continued on, both knowing without need for conversation that their walk would not end until they reached Starvald Demelain.
* * *
He had helped Ardata set the Thel Akai’s broken bones, both of them as thick around as his wrists. Looking down upon them, as he pulled on Thrall’s massive foot whilst she guided the bones back beneath the ruptured skin, he had never felt so insignificant. Against a warrior such as this, he was no more than a child, and for all the sting of his sword, Kanyn Thrall could simply sweep him aside, dismissing him as if beneath notice.
It was an ugly feeling, this humility. The deeds of his past, which had seemed vast and weighty, were little more than the small measures of a small life. When she set to tending the punctures in the Thel Akai’s torso, he had gone outside once more, to retrieve Kanyn Thrall’s beloved axe.
Ignoring the two Tiste women – who were anything but – he made his way down to the strand of the Vitr. In the short time that the axe had been lying on the dead sand, the bitter fumes had mottled the iron, stealing its proud polish. He grunted lifting the weapon from the ground, and staggered more than once as he made his way back up the berm.
The temple’s scattered ruins, the tumbled blocks and toppled columns, had the battered appearance of some past violence, as if the resident god or goddess had ended faith in a frenzy of rage. He had found rotted bones here and there, lending weight to his notions. Faith and slaughter all too often settled into a deadly embrace. He had fled Kurald Galain on the cusp of such a war, and had no regrets about that part of his leaving. But that flight had not prevented the transformation of his skin. Initially white as snow, he was now sun-burnished a radiant gold. What had at first appalled him now appealed, though he did find himself looking, with considerable admiration, upon the onyx perfection of Telorast and Curdle.
Leaning the axe against a broken block of limestone, he hesitated, and then settled down on the stone to watch the last of the light drain from the world.
Moments later the two women joined him, each taking a seat, one on either side, both close enough to brush arms and thighs.
‘Bold young warrior,’ murmured Telorast. ‘Tell me you like them nimble. She’d batter you bruised and senseless, while I, on the other hand, display more modest curves, but no less enticing, yes?’
‘I thought you two were lovers.’
‘Lovers, sisters, mother and daughter, these attributions are meaningless. Details from the past, and the past is dead. In this moment, there are only women and men. Mere proximity invites potential. Isn’t that right, Curdle?’
‘We’re always right, that’s true. How could it ever be otherwise? But this Tiste warrior here, he thinks highly of himself.’
‘Or once he did,’ Telorast observed, ‘but, alas, no more. Oh, Kurald Galain! How it delights in the vista of its own navel! Puckered horizons and root long since past drawing sustenance. But here you are, Tiste warrior, painted in Light, godly in youth, with nothing but clouds in your golden eyes.’
‘Blame Ardata,’ hissed Curdle. ‘She won’t use him in the proper way!’
‘She has a Thel Akai’s cock to play with, my love. Think on that.’
‘The prowess of Azathanai knows no bounds,’ Curdle said, nodding. ‘She must veer to fit him. Diabolical genius, but easily spoiled.’
‘Quickly bored.’
‘All sensitivity blunted. And now, Telorast, you went and nearly killed that giant cock!’
‘You didn’t want him in the first place!’
‘Didn’t I? Well, that’s true, I didn’t. But now that he’s useless, I’ve changed my mind!’
‘He’d split you in two, Curdle, even as bloated and big-boned as you’ve made yourself.’
‘I see plenty of flab on you, Telorast!’
‘Not flab. Roundness. There’s a difference. I don’t wobble when I walk. I sway.’
When he made to rise, both women reached out and pulled him back down.
‘We’re not done with you, warrior,’ Curdle said. ‘I’ve been watching you, you know. The blessing of Light is upon you. It defies the Vitr. That’s useful.’
‘Stop that,’ Telorast said. ‘You’re just confusing him.’
‘Confusion is good. It’ll make him more pliable. Warrior, at the least give me your name.’
‘Osserc, son of Lord Vatha Urusander, who is commander of the Legion.’
‘Son, lord, commander – shields to deflect, shields behind which to hide. Let us bring you out into the sunlight, Osserc.’
‘Enough of that, Curdle. Tell him something useful instead.’ Telorast rested a hand on his thigh. ‘A secret we can share. Just to show how generous we are. Tell him about the Grey Shore.’
Curdle flinched, and then leaned forward to glare at Telorast. ‘Are you mad? Our plans are perfect this time! Once we claim the throne, this Light-blessed creature will be our enemy!’
‘Liosan. Their name for Light, Curdle. Besides, this fool here isn’t going anywhere. Haven’t you worked that out yet? I just got here and I worked that out. Is the Vitr rotting your brain, sister? Is that it? Been here too long lusting after that Thel Akai?’
‘We were making eyes at each other. It was delightful! My brain hasn’t rotted. I’m not the one suggesting we blab about the Grey Shore.’
‘They’ll find another name for it,’ said Telorast. ‘They do things like that. We’re Eleint, remember?’
‘Someone really should kill the Suzerain.’
‘Agreed. This time, we’ll see it done. Find the right sword, point it his way, and see his black blood spray!’
‘I’m bored,’ said Curdle. ‘Fuck this warrior, my love. I want to watch.’
‘Do you?’
‘I said I did, didn’t I?’
‘The last time we did that the poor bastard got ripped to pieces.’
‘Not by my claws, Telorast!’
‘Well, it’s exciting when you watch!’
Curdle patted Osserc’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about anything like that happening, warrior. We were dragons then, and that’s different.’
Osserc cleared his throat, and said, ‘I have taken a vow of celibacy. Therefore I must decline the invitation. My apologies, uh, to you both.’
‘That vow needs breaking,’ Telorast said in a growl.
He saw, with some relief, that Ardata had emerged from the temple. She strode closer. ‘Leave off him, you two. I but tolerate your presence here and you’d do well to bear that in mind.’
‘She scuttles out from the ruin, Telorast! The web trembles as our power challenges it! See the terrible strain on her face?’
‘That would be the Vitr,’ said Telorast. ‘But that in itself is telling, isn’t it? Even the Azathanai are not immune.’
‘The Vitr will eat holes in this realm, Ardata,’ said Curdle, leaning forward slightly and settling a soft hand on Osserc’s thigh. ‘Do you comprehend this? Holes, gnawed through. Starvald Demelain was only the first.’ The hand squeezed. ‘There is sorcery flooding this world. There will be pressure. Wounds will burst open. The Vitr is the Great Devourer, the Hunger Never Appeased—’
‘Ooh, I like that one,’ Telorast said in a murmur, her own hand stealing over his other thigh to sidle into his crotch.
Osserc drew a sharp breath as he felt his cock answer to the light touch.
Ardata crossed her arms, but it seemed her attention was fixed solely upon Curdle. ‘Tell me more,’ she said.
‘Do we bargain now?’ Curdle smiled, her own hand stealing down, and when it found Telorast’s hand already there, fingers curling alongside his cock, it tried to pull away its rival.
Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and quickly stepped clear of both women. Wheeling round, he glared down at two suddenly pouting faces. ‘I am past being a thing to be used,’ he said in a snarl.
‘That’s all right,’ said Telorast, ‘you’ll come back to it, eventually.’
Curdle nodded. ‘It’s in his nature. You saw that too, my love? My, we’re clever, aren’t we?’ She turned her attention back to Ardata. ‘Well?’
‘What do you wish?’
‘Oh, this man here for one,’ Curdle replied. ‘But also, a thing for the future. When the Grey Shore rises, and the way in is unopposed, you will ensnare Kilmandaros. Oh, not for ever, of course. Even you couldn’t manage that. But for a time.’
Telorast added, ‘Enough for my sister and me to fly to the heart unopposed, and to claim what awaits us there.’
Ardata scowled. ‘The Throne of Shadow.’
‘It belongs to us!’ Telorast shrieked.
After a moment, Ardata shrugged. ‘You spoke of holes.’
‘Wounds, gates, one for each aspect of sorcery,’ said Curdle. ‘The Vitr’s hunger for power is endless. It will make a space within itself for each aspect. Caverns, tunnels.’
‘Whence came this Vitr, Curdle?’
‘Starvald Demelain has always … leaked,’ Curdle replied. ‘In our home realm, we have sailed over silver seas, nested upon rotting crags jutting from the chaos. We have rushed above its wild torrent in the times when it has thundered through other realms—’
‘All realms,’ whispered Telorast. ‘Even the Suzerain’s.’
‘Then the Queen of Dreams—’
‘Swallowed by one such wound,’ Telorast replied, leaning back. ‘A modest one, a fissure leaking out from this very gate here, from Starvald Demelain. We who patrolled from the other side took note, and rode the sudden rush. Out! Out into this new world, hah!’
‘And her fate?’ Ardata asked in a cold tone.
Telorast glanced at Curdle, who shrugged but said nothing. Sighing, Telorast continued, ‘The Vitr steals memories – or, rather, it blinds the mind to the memories it holds. Made witless, one is reborn, and must make a new life.’
‘Where is she then?’
Telorast smiled. ‘You need to extend your web far, Ardata, to feel her telltale tremble. But it is my thought that the strange Azathanai who found herself among the Tiste, who held within her the gate of Light, of Liosan, and then flung it from herself as if discarding a burdensome cloak, why, that might well have once been your Queen of Dreams.’
Ardata stared at Telorast for a long moment before saying, ‘When was this?’
Curdle giggled. ‘Silly woman – look to the Tiste who came upon you and your Thel Akai lover! So brightly burnished by the indifferent gift of Light! How long was the journey? There is your answer.’
‘But recall, Ardata,’ chimed in Telorast, ‘she remembers you not.’
‘Your love has lost its tether,’ Curdle said, giggling again. ‘Poor Ardata.’
When Ardata started to turn away, Curdle jumped up. ‘A moment, Azathanai! We made a bargain!’
Osserc saw Ardata glance at him, and then she shrugged. ‘I own him not.’
‘But you do! A dying man resurrected!’
‘Oh, very well. Take him then, but leave him alive.’
‘Of course,’ Telorast said, smirking. ‘We apprehend your need for him.’
Curdle now turned to Osserc and smiled. ‘Your time is short, mortal. Reach now for all that may give you pleasure. There is no sweeter intensity than your final days.’
Frowning, Osserc took a step towards Ardata. ‘What is she talking about? What have you planned for me, Ardata?’
‘We need a soul,’ she replied. ‘To seal the gate.’
‘A soul? Mine?’
Her eyes were level. ‘It is a worthy end, Osserc. One other thing to consider:
it is not permanent – nothing is. Sooner or later, you will be spat out, to find yourself unchanged from the day of your imprisonment. Ages might well have past. You may find yourself standing on a world you do not even recognize, an entire realm to explore. More than that, Son of Liosan, you will possess power such as you would never have known before. Even within the maw of a gate and in the midst of agony, power is exchanged.’
He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Agony? To be spat out from centuries of that – I would be a madman!’ He looked quickly to Curdle and Telorast, and then back to Ardata. ‘Find another! Use Kanyn Thrall!’
She slowly shook her head. ‘I value him more than I do you, Tiste. Besides, Curdle spoke true. I own your life, for it was I who returned it to you.’ She turned to Curdle and Telorast. ‘Eleint, give him pleasure, enough delights to sustain him for a time. But be quick about it – I have a lover to find.’
* * *
There were three Jhelarkan. They had veered two days past, loping to keep pace as Scabandari pushed his exhausted horse onward, northward, well away from the caustic fumes of the Vitr Sea to the east.
At midday of this third day, his horse stumbled, and in an instant the three shaggy, black-furred giant wolves closed in. Even as his mount righted itself, he brought his lance around to meet the leap of the wolf on his right. The point drove into the beast’s chest with a ripping, snapping sound, the heavy iron blade breaking ribs as it sank deep.
The impact yanked the lance’s shaft from his grip, but the leather butt on the saddle held – long enough to pull the entire saddle on to the horse’s flank, taking the warrior with it. He heard the shaft splinter beneath the bowing weight of the dying wolf.
In that time, a second wolf closed its massive jaws around the left hindquarter of the horse, using its own weight to drag the animal down. The third and last Jheleck hunter lunged under the horse’s neck, snapping up to tear open the beast’s throat. Screaming, the horse collapsed beneath the onslaught.
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