The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (305 page)

‘Certainly,’ Certinse said thoughtfully, ‘a message of peace is a complicated one to sell to a martial order, but until the fanaticism in the Land runs its course, Ruhen remains a better guiding light.’

The big soldier leaned abruptly forward. ‘Tell me, Knight-Cardinal: do you believe in the Order’s central tenet these days?’

‘The Army of the Devoted?’ Certinse asked, unable to conceal his surprise at the question. ‘I – we were founded to protect the majesty of the Gods. Certainly I believe in this charge.’

‘And providing an army for the saviour, when he comes?’ There was a slight smile on Ilumene’s face.

Certinse couldn’t tell whether the man found the entire subject ridiculous or was setting himself up for some sort of rehearsed argument or joke.

‘I fail to see how the two would be exclusive of each other,’ he said carefully, ‘but I am told by the Serian that many mages, scholars and other heretics consider the point moot. They say that destiny has been twisted awry and the question of whether the Order will have a saviour to follow is now moot.’

‘So that’s a no,’ Ilumene said, looking satisfied. ‘You’re a politician and a man of power after all. You can’t spend your time dreaming about such things – most likely you reckon if it does turn out that way the best thing you could’ve done was build the Order’s strength anyway.’

When Certinse didn’t comment Ilumene smiled and reached into his pocket. ‘There is one other thing,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘Many of Ruhen’s followers have taken to wearing a symbol of their devotion. We ask you wear this – not openly if you prefer – in acknowledgement of our alliance.’

He held up a thin chain on which hung a small silver coin. Certinse took the coin from Ilumene’s open palm and inspected it. He guessed it had once been a silver level from Byora, but someone had done a good job of erasing what had been stamped into the metal. Now it bore only a circle on one face and a cross on the other, and each groove had then been painted in.

‘A charm?’

Ilumene shook his head. ‘A symbol only – feel free to have a mage investigate.’ He watched Certinse examine the coin, not speaking, but when the man continued to look sceptical Ilumene reached into his collar and pulled out a second coin, identical to the one he’d given Certinse. ‘You can have mine if you prefer? For a man in your position wariness is never a wasted effort, but this one’s certainly done me no harm.’

Certinse agreed and they swapped. Ilumene wasted no time in hanging the first chain around his neck and tucking it back under his tunic. Feeling foolish, Certinse did the same, gingerly slipping the chain over his head and letting it rest on his armour for a few heartbeats. Nothing at all happened, and when he slipped it underneath the only result was a slight cold touch as the metal came into contact with his skin.

For his visitor, that seemed to be enough. Ilumene rose and slipped his sword onto his back. ‘Consider your wishes come true then.’

‘What, now? Already?’

‘Come with me and you’ll see. Your men will get no resistance at the armoury; you can mop up the Penitents and the rest easily enough – they’re all waiting for orders that aren’t likely to come unless the remaining clerics are less argumentative than either of us believes.’

‘And you’ll be alongside me why exactly?’

‘Solidarity,’ Ilumene said brightly, ‘and in case there’s a fanatic within your own men you don’t know about. Don’t worry, the victory’ll be yours; I’m just there to be seen on your side. You can even give me some orders publicly if you like.’

‘So this was already in play? But what if I’d refused your terms, struck my own bargain?’

The big man in white shrugged and opened the door, holding it for Certinse to go first. ‘Some priests I don’t care about would have been dead. Maybe your guilty conscience would have kept you up at nights, but you strike me as a man who prefers his nights restful.’

He gave the Knight-Cardinal a gentle pat on the shoulder as he urged him out the door. ‘Jumping at every shadow or strange noise grows tiring, so I’m told.’

‘What are you doing, necromancer?’

Nai paused in his gestures and glanced over at Amber. The Menin soldier sat in a slouched heap beside their small fire, looking as exhausted as he sounded. Small sparks smouldered on his boot, orange pinpricks against the black leather. When Nai pointed to them Amber frowned at the fading glows for a long while before eventually dropping a heavy hand on them to extinguish them. The only other movement he could bring himself to make was to scratch the scabs of a graze on his cheek, where Nai had scraped a temporary rune into his skin.

‘I’m going to summon a spirit,’ Nai replied at last, ‘something that can scout the path for us. There’s likely to be all sorts roaming in the wake of an army, but none friendly to us.’

‘Spirit or daemon?’

Nai ignored the question and returned to his preparations. He’d drawn a circle in the bare earth beneath a yew tree and scattered a handful of bones within it around a small, blackened bowl into which he’d put a pinch of herbs soaked in blood.

He spoke a long mantra over it before igniting the herbs. ‘Dedessen, I summon you,’ he intoned, bowing towards the bowl, ‘Dedessen, receive my praise; Dedessen, accept my sacrifice.’

Behind him was a young rabbit, feet bound together and magically subdued but still alive. Nai bowed again to the bowl and drew a knife across the rabbit’s throat. Blood spurted out over the circle as the rabbit convulsed twice, then died. The air around him seemed to thicken, becoming hot and close as a bitter stink filled the fitful evening breeze.

Nai bowed his head again and was about to repeat the mantra when a whispery voice cut through the night.

‘Ever faithful to the old covenants,’ the daemon said from somewhere nearby, ‘your sacrifice is welcomed, Nai.’

The necromancer bowed again before sitting up straight and looking all around, trying to work out where the voice had come from. It had emanated from several directions at once, but he knew it would incarnate soon.

‘I am glad it pleases you, mighty one.’

‘What do you seek of me? Wisdom or wrath; concealment or craft?’

In front of Nai the deep blue evening sky shimmered, folded back on itself and tore to reveal a slender-limbed figure draped in black cloth. The cloth hung down over its body in long strips a hand-span wide, each weighted at the bottom by a writhing iron charm. The daemon itself had parchment-pale skin and thin eyes that glowed red as they moved between Nai and Amber. Despite its long hooked claws and a pair of massive fangs, its speech was refined, its gestures neat and elegant.

‘You have found a protector, at least? But no, it does not reach for its swords – it cannot be much of a guard dog.’

‘More of a commodity,’ Nai said with a smile and a twitch of the finger that caused the scabbed rune on Amber’s cheek to glow briefly. The big soldier flinched and looked away. He knew the fate Nai had in mind for him, but he believed Nai when he said the rune’s spell would make doing anything about it a dangerous prospect.

‘I beg for assistance, some creature of yours to scout the way for me and provide a safe path towards Narkang.’

‘You seek Narkang, or its king?’

‘Its king – why – is he dead? I raised shades both within the Herald’s Hall and on Ghain itself, and no word of King Emin was mentioned there.’

‘Perhaps he lives, perhaps he has fallen.’ The daemon edged closer, as though wary of being overheard. ‘The borders are weakened between this and the other lands and many of my kind can cross freely. King Emin chooses dangerous company.’

‘“Cross freely”? The Gods weakened themselves that much?’

Dedessen hissed like a snake, but Nai knew the threatening sound was more an expression of pleasure than anything else.

‘They have broken their errant Chosen, but so high, so high the price. Now they reach into the mind of every mortal, every immortal, and tear out what they cannot stand, then retire across the seas. Now has come another Age of Darkness, now daemons hunt freely, and some they hunt with a rage never before seen.’

‘Do any hunt here?’

‘Certainly,’ the daemon said as it gestured to the east, ‘they gather even now. Byora has cast out the Gods from their hearts. There is space only for fear there now, and my kind will be drawn to feed.’

‘But not you.’ It wasn’t a question; not all daemons were the same and those bloodthirsty monsters descending upon Byora were of a lower breed. Age brought wisdom of a sort to daemons, a diminished hunger for violence and savagery when better sources of power were available. Dedessen would be naturally wary of Byora, given recent events there. The Devil’s Stairs – direct paths between the Land and Ghenna – made it an enticing hunting ground, but either Stair’s creation suggested great power was present there, and Dedessen lacked the strength of a daemon-prince.

‘The entire Land is a hunting ground now. I will eat the dead souls of man and daemon alike once the slaughter is done, but I do not go to war on mortals – there will be plenty enough eager for that.’

‘And King Emin is their first target?’

The hissing came again, but this time Dedessen flexed and clenched its clawed hands too.

Pleasure and anger together, or have I misread it all these years
? Nai wondered.

‘The princes of Jaishen cry for vengeance, this much I hear in Coroshen. Some great offence was done and only blood will quench the flames of their wrath.’

‘Should I not seek him out then? I would not offend any prince of Ghenna.’

‘Now is a time for feeding and growing strong on the blood of others. Those who seek vengeance will overlook new rivals and become prey themselves. Go to King Emin and earn your coin for this one’s soul – but once you have your reward, you must sacrifice a child to me in return.’

Nai bowed again. ‘As you command.’

The daemon approached the circle Nai had drawn and reached into it, digging its long fingers into the dirt while a haze of bloody light reflected off the scattered white bones. Nai sensed magic fill the air and run down into the ground, but the daemon’s workings were a language separate from the spells Nai understood.

Dedessen withdrew its hand and stepped back as the earth wriggled and heaved. ‘Your guide.’

Nai watched in fascination as a small shape pushed its way to the surface, claws tearing away at the earth until it had cut itself free like a corpse rising from the dead. It was small with a squat, furred body and leathery wings furled tight to its body. The creature turned its eyeless, whiskered snout up towards Nai and he realised it had once been a mole, now twisted by the daemon’s magic to suit his purpose.

The daemon-creature opened its wings and gave them an experimental flap before beating them hard and rising up in the air just in front of Nai.

He looked for Dedessen but the daemon had already receded into the night and faded from view.

‘My guide,’ Nai repeated softly. He held out his palm and the daemon settled on it, using a hooked thumb on its wings for balance like a bat would.

‘Go, scout the Land all around us; return to me if you see danger.’

The creature dropped from his palm and darted off with surprising swiftness, disappearing from view in two rapid wing-beats. Nai stared after it for a long while, puzzling over the daemon’s words: a new Age of Darkness? Even he, a necromancer, felt trepidation at the notion.

He shook his head and returned to the fire where Amber was staring at the branches of a dead tree. In the uppermost branches sat a pair of large black birds, ravens, Nai guessed from the size. Both were watching them. Perhaps they had been wary of the daemon, but now that it was gone their scrutiny did not waver. Amber matched their unwavering stare without moving or speaking, apparently captivated by the birds.

What are ravens to the Menin, death omens? In Embere they were the souls of the dead come to speak to the living. I remember leaving out scraps for them as a child on feast days – payment for whatever words they might speak at twilight.

Nai realised he’d been holding the dead rabbit all the time. Now he held it up to his companion. ‘Dinner? Or shall I leave it for the ravens – a gift for lost souls?’

Amber blinked at him. ‘Lost souls?’ He shook his head. ‘Ravens take all the payment they need.’

The child walked alone through the streets of Wheel, Byora’s largest district, towards the long city wall. The evening sun painted his dark hair golden, and he paused in the middle of the street, eyes closed, as he savoured the warmth on his skin. All around him the life of the city continued, and the boy was barely noticed by those passing by. Those not busy with work or thoughts of heading home had another sight to linger on: a man trailing well behind who looked far less comfortable on Byora’s meaner streets.

A grey sprinkling in his hair and beard was the only hint to his true age. The silver charms on his robe were a greater clue to his profession. The mage looked nervous, cowed even, repeatedly checking the nearby alleys, but his attention always returned to the child before too long. The locals gave him a wide berth, but they were used to seeing mages walking tall and fearless, so they took the opportunity to inspect him more thoroughly.

He was far from impressive-looking: just a thin man of average height, with the pale skin of a scholar. But for the charms and pendants hanging around his neck more than one watcher might have tried to relieve him of his fine opal and firegem rings.

Just as some started to follow his gaze and wonder at the child in fine clothing standing before the open gate, another figure came down the street behind him and joined the mage. The watchers immediately looked away, as though the scent of wild roses accompanying the newcomer on the breeze was Death’s own perfume. Here was one who appeared to own all he surveyed, and none of Wheel’s residents were keen to argue the matter.

At last they realised who the child was, and the newcomer grinned as he heard gasps and whispers from all directions. He was dressed like a hero from some tale, shining breastplate and helm over a white tunic and breeches, while the hilt of his sword glittered in the light. All he lacked was a knightly crest on his shield.