Текст книги "Black Halo"

Автор книги: Sam Sykes

Соавторы: Sam Sykes
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Forty-One

COMPULSORY TREASON

Togu stared from the shore. When he was smaller, at his father’s side, he recalled days of splendid sunsets, the sea transformed into a vast lake of glittering gold by the sun’s slow and steady descent. He had always been encouraged by such a view, seeing it as a glimpse into the future, hisfuture as chief.

Those had been fine days.

But he had learned many things since the day his father died. Gold lost its lustre. Treasure could not be eaten. And the sun, he swore, had been progressively dimming its light just to spite him, so that he could never again look at the ocean without seeing the world in flames.

Fire, too, had once held a different meaning.

He glanced to the massive pyre burning only a few feet away and licked his eyes to keep them from drying out. Just last night, this fire was a beacon for revelry. His people had gathered about it, danced and sang and ate the gohmns that had come from it. Last night, he had stared into the fire and dared to smile a little.

Today, he could not bear to look at it any longer than a few deep, tired breaths.

He had lit it over two hours ago. Only now did he hear the steps of heavy feet upon the sand. By the time he had turned to face the sound, Yaike was already standing over him, arms crossed, his single eye fixed upon the diminutive lizardman.

‘You came,’ Togu muttered.

‘You lit the fire,’ Yaike replied, making a point to reply in their rasping, hissing tongue.

‘I did,’ Togu replied in kind, wincing. The language always felt so unnatural in his mouth since he had learned the human tongue. Perhaps that was the reason Yaike looked down on him with disdain now.

Or one of them, at least.

‘I was expecting Mahalar to come,’ Togu muttered, turning away.

‘Mahalar has concerns on Jaga.’

‘Shalake, then. Shalake used to come often.’

‘Shalake leads the defence of Jaga. Speak with me or speak to no one.’

‘I have spoken to no one for many years,’ Togu snapped back. ‘I have lit manyfires.’

‘The nights are long and dangerous,’ Yaike said. ‘The longfaces prowl above the waves; the demons stalk below. The numbers of the Shen are limited, our time even more so. We do not need to make excuses to anyone.’ He narrowed his eye. ‘Let alone those who harbour outsiders.’

Togu turned toward the sea again, away from his scowl.

‘The outsiders are dead.’

He felt Yaike’s stare upon him like an arrow in his shoulder. He always had. That the Shen had only one eye did not diminish the ferocity of his scowl; it merely sharpened it to a fine, wounding edge.

‘All of them,’ Togu added.

‘How did they die?’

‘Most of them drowned,’ Togu replied. ‘But you already knew that. You sank the ship they were on.’

‘You said “most”.’

‘One of them crawled back to shore. She was exhausted.’ He turned back to face the Shen, his expression severe. ‘I cut her throat.’

‘She …’ Yaike whispered.

‘Yes. She.’

He was not used to seeing Yaike grin. It was unnerving. Even more so when the Shen scratched the corner of his missing eye.

‘Died swiftly?’ Yaike asked.

‘Messily.’

‘Is that all, then?’ the Shen asked.

‘No,’ Togu replied. ‘The tome …’

Instantly, Yaike’s expression soured, grin slipping into a frown, frown vanishing into his tattooed green flesh.

‘You don’t need to know about it.’

‘It came to myisland. It drew the longfaces here. The demons were close enough to Teji’s shores they could have broken wind and I’d see the bubbles. I deserve to know. The Owauku deserve to know.’

‘There are no Owauku. There are no Gonwa. There are no Shen. There is only us and our oaths. Remember that, Togu, the next time you think such questions.’

‘Oaths? Oaths?’ He snarled at the taller creature, his size temporarily forgotten. ‘For who do we swear these oaths, Yaike?’

‘Our oath has always been to watch the gate, to wait for Ulbecetonth to-’

‘I said for who do we swear these oaths, Yaike?I am well aware of what the Shen says our oaths are. I am well aware that we Owauku and Gonwa have no choice in swearing them. What I want to know is who? For who do we kill outsiders and spill blood?’

Yaike’s eyelid twitched slightly.

‘Everyone.’

‘Including Owauku?’

‘Including Owauku.’

‘Including Gonwa?’

‘Including Gonwa. We protect everyone.’

‘Then tell me,’ Togu said, ‘why these oaths do not protect us. Tell me why the Gonwa are here on Teji and not on Komga? Tell me why their fathers and brothers die under the longfaces’ boots while the Shen do nothing?’

Yaike said nothing. Togu snarled, stepping forward.

‘Where were your oaths when the Owauku starved? Why did the Shen only come to Teji and kill the humans who would help us? Why did the Shen say nothing when I said my people could not eat oaths?’

Yaike said nothing. Togu stormed towards him, tiny hands clenched into tiny fists.

‘Why did Ihave to kill the outsiders, Yaike? Why did I have to barter them to the longfaces? Why didn’t youstep in and protect us from the purple devils in the first place? Where were your oaths, then?’

Yaike said nothing. Togu searched his face and found nothing; no shame, no sorrow, no sympathy. And he sighed, turning away.

‘If you can give me nothing else, Yaike,’ he said, ‘tell me what will happen to the tome.’ At his silence, the Owauku trembled. ‘Please.’

The Shen spoke. It was the monotone, the deliberate, the pitiless speech born of duty. Togu hadn’t expected any great sympathy. But Togu hadn’t expected to shudder at the sheer chill of the Shen’s voice.

‘The tome will be ours,’ Yaike said. ‘It will return to Jaga. Mahalar will decide what to do with it. The oaths shall be fulfilled, with your cooperation or without.’

‘It is in Jaga now, then? In Shen hands?’

‘It is safe.’

Togu sighed, bowing his head as he heard Yaike turn and stride down the shore. He wasn’t certain how far the Shen had gone, if he would even hear him, when he muttered.

‘Is Teji safe, then?’

‘Honour your oaths, Togu,’ Yaike said. ‘We will do the same.’

The footsteps faded into nothingness, leaving behind a cold silence that even the roaring pyre could not diminish. Togu stared into the fire, sympathising. He had stared at it, once, thinking it the greatest force of nature in the world. The power of destruction, of creation, feeding off the earth and encouraging growth in its ashes. In its lapping tongues, he had seen himself.

He still did.

For now, he stared at something gaudy, easily controlled and impotent against the forces around it. He stared at a tool.

‘Did you hear all that you needed, then?’ he asked in the human tongue.

Lenk stared at him from the forest’s edge, nodding solemnly. He stepped out onto the shore, Kataria creeping out of the brush after him. She scowled down the beach, ears twitching.

‘He thought you slit mythroat, didn’t he?’ she growled. ‘Did you see that smug grin on his face? Like he had done it himself …’

‘You took his eye,’ Lenk pointed out.

‘I would have taken the other one, too,’ she muttered, adjusting the bow on her back. ‘But no. Someonesaid we had to wait and listen.’ She gestured down the beach. ‘And for what?’

‘The Shen have the tome.’

‘And?’

‘We’re going after it.’

At that, both the shict and Owauku cast him the combined expressions of suspicion and resignation usually reserved for men who slather their unmentionables in goose grease and wander towards starving dogs with a gleam in their eye.

‘To Jaga?’ Togu said. ‘The home of the Shen has never been seen by anyone notShen. Only they and the Akaneeds know how to get to it.’

‘That’s fine,’ Lenk said.

‘You will probably die.’

‘Also fine.’

‘But why?’ Kataria asked. ‘What about returning to the mainland?’

‘I have not seen any sign of Sebast or any rescue,’ Lenk said. ‘Have you?’

His gaze was expressionless, rid of any emotion, let alone accusation, yet Kataria squirmed all the same, rubbing her neck and glancing at the earth.

‘No,’ she said. ‘But the plan was to get a boat and return that way, wasn’t it?’

‘Demons in the water,’ Lenk replied.

‘But-’

‘Shen, Akaneed, longfaces, Deepshrieks …’ He shook his head. ‘Every time we seek comfort, every time we flee danger, it finds us.’ His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, lingered there for a moment too long to be considered casual. ‘This time, we go find it. We finish what we came to do.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘We kill those who try to stop us.’

She stared at him searchingly.

‘We?’

He turned to her, eyes hard.

‘We.’

He stared out over the sea, then glanced to Togu.

‘We’ll need a boat,’ he said. ‘Supplies, too, and as much information as you can give us about Jaga and the Shen.’

‘Asking a lot,’ Togu mused, ‘considering what I’ve already done for you.’

‘Considering what we could have done toyou, it’s not unreasonable,’ Lenk replied, his stare harsh. ‘You betrayed us. We could have done worse.’

Togu nodded glumly, waving a hand as he turned and stalked towards the forest, towards his village.

‘Take what you want, then,’ he said. ‘We were born in death. We will survive.’ He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Lenk. ‘If you don’t, though, I won’t mourn.’

‘No one has yet,’ Lenk replied.

Togu’s eye ridges furrowed briefly as he glanced past the two companions. An errant ripple blossomed across the waves.

For a moment, he thought he had seen a flash of hair, green as the sea, pale flesh and long, frilled ears that had heard everything. For a moment, he thought he had heard a lyrical voice whispering on the wind. For a moment, he thought of telling the companions this.

But only for a moment.

Togu nodded again before disappearing into the brush. Lenk turned and stared out over the sea, either not noticing or ignoring Kataria as she turned an intent gaze upon him.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m always all right,’ he said.

‘I mean, are you well?’ she asked. ‘You’ve said barely a word since we got off the ship.’

‘I’m trying not to waste my breath so much.’

‘Look, about what happened …’

‘Stop,’ he said. ‘Can you really think of any way to end that sentence that will change anything?’

She stared at him, frowned and shook her head.

‘Then maybe you can save some breath, too.’

He turned to go, felt a hand on his shoulder. Something within him urged him to break away. The thought occurred to him to turn and strike her. Something within him did not disagree with that. He did neither, but nor did he turn to face her.

Not until she seized him by the shoulders and forced him around, anyway.

Her stare was intense, far too much for searching, for prying, for anything but conveying a raw, animal need that was reflected in her grip, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Her mouth quivered, wanting desperately to say something but finding nothing. Her teeth were bared, her ears flat against her head, her body tensed and rigid with trembling muscle.

He stared back at her, wary, his own body tightening up, blood freezing as something within him told him what was happening. This was it, it told him, the betrayal he was waiting for. She had done it before; she would do it again. The aggression was plain on her face. She was going to finish the job now. He should strike before she did so. Strike now, it told him, seize the sword and hack off her head. Strike.

Strike.

Kill-

And then, there was no more thought, no more action. He had neither the mind nor the will for either as she pulled him close. There was only his body, feeling every ridge and contour of muscle on her naked midsection, each one brimming with nervous energy. There were only her eyes, shut tight as though she feared to open them and see anything in his.

There were only their lips pressed together, their tongues tasting each other, their hands, off weapons, on each other.

And the unending sigh of the ocean.

She pulled back, just as swiftly as she had embraced him. Her body still shook, her fingers still dug into his skin, her ears were still flat against her head. But her eyes were steady, fixed on his, unblinking.

‘I can’t change,’ she whispered, ‘anything.’

And she turned.

And she walked away.

And he stared after her, long into the night.

Forty-Two

THE ICE SPEAKS TRUE

Island of Teji

The Aeons’ Gate

Time is irrelevant

I lived on a farm before I became an adventurer. I had a mother, a father, a grandfather and a cow. None of those are important. What is important is that I don’t remember much about them.

Not much … but a little.

I remember that time seemed to stand still on a farm. We lived, we ate, we planted, we harvested, we watched births, we watched deaths. The same thing happened the next year … for as long as I was there.

This I remember. I remember it too well. Granted, the adventuring life was not too different: we lived, mostly; we ate things that we probably shouldn’t have; we stabbed; we burned; we once force-fed a man his own foot …

Some part of me, I think, still suspected life was that way, still thought that the world would never change.

But I’m learning all kinds of things lately.

Things change.

Weeks ago … gold seemed everything. Goldwas everything. It would lead me back to the farm, back to living, planting, harvesting, birthing, dying. That part of me that thought the world would continue as it always had wanted me to go back, to prove it right.

That part of me is gone, though. It was cast out. It was a blanket, something thick and warm that kept me sleeping. I’m awake now.

The cave … I remember it. I remember it too well. I don’t know his name. I don’t know if he had family, if he ever planted anything or saw a child born. I don’t know how he lived.

But I know who he was. And I know how he died.

He fought the demons, back during the war with the Aeons in which the mortals triumphed against Ulbecetonth. He inspired fear in his enemies and the House of the Vanquishing Trinity that he marched with, even as they called him ally. He killed many. His purpose was to kill.

His companions feared him: what he said, what he knew, what he was. They went into that cave. They killed him. They died with him. I stared into his eyes. I knew this. Some part of me remembered it, some part that I’ve been trying to ignore. I knew him.

And he knew me. And he spoke to me. And I listened.

And it all began to make sense. I’ve seen the way they look at me, the way they look away when I stare at them. When they need order, when they need direction, they turn to me. When I needed them, they abandoned me, betrayed me.

Maybe it was stupidity on the surface. Maybe it was their selfishness, as I had suspected. Those might have been the shallows, but not the purpose. They had been waiting for that moment, the moment in which they could watch me die without retaliation.

They wanted me to die. They wanted to kill me. To kill us, but they couldn’t.

The voice told me this. It’s speaking so clearly now. It doesn’t command me. I talk to it; it talks back. We discuss. We learn. We reason. It told me everything about them, about their purpose. It made sense.

Things change.

They don’t.

I learned this too well tonight.

The voice was speaking clearly, but I was still doubting it. I didn’t see how they could hate me … well, no, I could see how they could hate me, sure. They’re assholes. But her … I didn’t believe it, not after that day.

So I watched her, as the voice told me to. I watched her go away. I followed her. I couldn’t, too closely, of course; she would hear me. She would know. So I followed her as far as I could. I heard her. I heard her talk with other voices.

I glanced out from my hiding spot and saw him.

Greenshict.

My grandfather told me stories of them. Manhunters. Skinners. Seven feet and six toes of hatred for humans. I learned more about shicts than I ever thought I would; I learned that they weren’t all bad; I learned about Kataria …

But Kataria is a puppy. Greenshicts are wolves. They kill humans. This is their sole purpose. I know this. Everyone does. She knows it, too. And she told me nothing of them.

I couldn’t tell what they were talking about. I didn’t need to know. The voice did. It told me they were plotting my murder, that she would never be able to change her purpose, her desire to kill me for what I am, for what she was. She was speaking with a creature born to kill humans.

I believed it.

I left.

And everything became clear after that.

The tome is the key. The man in the cave told me that. There’s more written on it than Miron would have me believe. His purpose was to lie and to obscure. Maybe there’s something worse written in it than I would imagine. But maybe … maybe there’s something in it I need to see, no matter the danger.

And there is plenty.

The Shen are numerous, Togu has told me. They relentlessly patrol their island home of Jaga. They tattoo themselves with a black line for each kill they make, a red line for each head they’ve crushed. I’ve never seen one without at least three red lines upon it, the rest of them in black. They are violent; they are watchful; they live on an island that no one knows the location of.

And they have the tome.

I will go after it. I will find it. I will learn the truth inside it. I will take them, the betrayers, with me.

I won’t give them another chance to kill me.

I will follow my purpose.

I will kill them all.

Epilogue

THE STIRRING IN THE SEA

Mesri had been a holy man, once: a revered speaker of the will of the Zamanthras. He had guided his people through many trials and many hardships. He was the chain that had held Port Yonder together. He was a leader. He was a man of the Gods. He was good.

And now, he was a fast-fading memory, his eyes shut tight and drifting beneath a cloak of shimmering blue as his body was commended to the depths. The last body to go under, the other victims of the longfaces’ attack having since been offered to the ocean. It had begun reverently enough, with the ritual candles burned and the holy words spoken.

But the candles had been extinguished by a stray wave. The people did not know all the words. Mesri did. Mesri was dead. So was half of Port Yonder. And once that reality became too apparent, the funerals lasted as long as it took to identify the bodies and drop them into the harbour.

By the time they sent Mesri to Zamanthras, only two remained to watch him sink beneath the blue. Only Kasla. Only Hanth.

The girl peered out over the edge of the dock. ‘Do we say something?’

‘To who?’ he asked.

She glanced around the empty harbour. ‘To Zamanthras?’

‘Feel free,’ he said.

Kasla inhaled deeply and looked for inspiration. She looked to the sky, grey and thundering. She looked to the sea, glutted with corpses. She looked to the city, its blackened ruin and blood-spattered sands. And so, she looked out over the ocean and spat.

‘Thanks for nothing.’

They continued to stare at the sea, saying nothing. Neither of them felt an obligation to stay, to remain silent. Neither of them knew where they would go, what they would say.

‘Are you going to stay?’ Kasla asked.

‘I am returning home,’ he replied.

‘You say that, but you don’t look like you’re from around here. Your skin is too white and your eyes are too dark to be Tohanan. And you very clearly don’t follow Zamanthras.’

‘Zamanthras doesn’t tell me who I am. Neither do your people.’

She shrugged. ‘I guess not. Still, you kept everyone safe while we rescued them from the longfaces. They’ll welcome you for that.’

‘That’s fine,’ he replied. ‘I’m glad they’re safe for now.’

‘They are. We all are.’ She reached out, slid a hand into his robe and smiled. ‘Heartbeat.’

He turned on her. ‘What?’

‘I can feel it through your skin,’ she said, running her fingers over his chest. ‘You must be stressed.’

‘I … am …’ he said, nodding weakly.

‘You need food. Fortunately, the cooks survived.’ She patted him on the back and began walking to the wreckage of Port Yonder. ‘Come on.’

He turned and began to follow. The water lapped at the docks. The sky rumbled. And between the voices of the storm and the sea, Hanth heard a whisper reach his ears from the waves.

‘ Ulbecetonth honours her promises, Mouth.’

He forced himself to keep going, to keep his eyes forward. He didn’t dare look behind him for fear of seeing four golden eyes peering at him from the depths, a grey dorsal fin splitting the waters.

On the sands below, the females were joyous. The air was rife with the shrieking of Those Green Things as they were driven under lash and blade to chop more wood and haul it to the shore to be built into ships. The slightest excuse – a pause to take a drink, a load moving too slow – was used to justify an immediate execution.

‘Shouldn’t you stop them?’ a rasping voice asked from behind him.

Sheraptus scowled; between the shriek of Those Green Things, the laughter of the females and the cackle of the sikkhuns as more and more corpses were hurled into their pits, the sound of the Grey One That Grins was just somehow even more grating.

‘It’s quite wasteful, you know,’ his companion said. ‘If you have no slaves, you will have no ships and you will have no way to find the tome.’

‘No,’ Sheraptus said, pointedly.

‘No?’

‘I’m bored with that. I found your stupid tome and it cost me dearly.’

‘You’ve never given a concern for cost before.’

‘That was before I lost my best warriors, my First Carnassial and my shipfor the sake of a few pieces of pressed wood. This is no longer interesting.’

‘There is still more to learn.’

‘Of what? Overscum? They show up where you don’t want them to and ruin everything. That’s as much as I need to know and as much as I care to know. I’ve decided … we’re returning to the Nether. There are plenty more wars to be fought there.’

‘But so little power to be gained,’ the Grey One That Grins urged. ‘Consider all that you have found here; consider all that we have given you to fight Ulbecetonth’s children on our behalf. The martyr stones, the poison …’

‘The power I’ve found here is weak and fleeting. I’ve not yet met anyone who can best me.’

‘No. Only those who can best your ship.’

‘You are aggravating me,’ Sheraptus growled. ‘Consider my gratitude for the stones to be my aversion to killing you.’

‘Most appreciated. However, I feel you may be a little shortsighted.’

‘I also feel that way. I was apparently too hasty in offering such gratitude.’

‘I simply mean to imply that you are letting your mood sour the potential for one of the greatest powers you’ve yet to see.’

‘Power … is that all you think me concerned with?’

‘No. Thispower, however, you might be … considering it comes in a form you will find most pleasing.’

Sheraptus paused, a smile growing across his lips as the Grey One That Grins drew the words out between his long teeth.

‘The priestess.’

‘What of her?’ Sheraptus asked.

‘Did you not sense something awry last night on your ship? A strength you have not tasted before?’

‘I did … on the beach, as well. Her?’

‘She possesses something not yet seen in nethra. Perhaps you are interested?’

‘Passingly. In her, though …’

‘She attracts your ire?’

‘We were interrupted. She did not scream for me.’

‘I see. I can show you how to find her. I can show you how to harness her power for your own ends.’

‘And in return?’

‘The tome.’

‘As you wish. The Screamer is out seeking its whereabouts right now. I suspect Those Other Green Things that sank my ship will be involved.’

‘The Shen are powerful. It may take many females to wrench it from their grasp.’

‘I have many females.’

‘And the artifact,’ the Grey One That Grins said, ‘you returned it from Port Yonder?’

‘Yldus arrived not long ago. I hardly see what you want with a pile of bones, though.’

‘It will become clear, in time.’

‘You say that often, I note.’

‘I have little time to explain. My presence is needed elsewhere.’

‘Of course. Vashnear will tend to your needs.’

He heard the Grey One That Grins turn on his heels and begin to walk away. Without turning around, Sheraptus called after him.

‘This power she has … and how to harness it …’

‘It will be a long process,’ his companion said. ‘Long … and slow.’

And without a word, Sheraptus smiled, returning his gaze to the island below. The sikkhuns fed. The ships bobbed in the surf as supplies were loaded onto them. And the females were joyous.

So many steps, Mahalar thought as he climbed down. Were there always this many?

Not for the first time, he thought about turning around, returning to the top and sleeping for a few more hours. But his people were waiting for him below. They had requested his guidance.

He found the Shen gathered in a throng at the bottom of the massive stone staircase; he felt their yellow eyes upon him, heard the quiet hiss of their breath. At the fore of them, he recognised Shalake, heard the towering Shen’s breath louder and angrier than the rest.

He bowed his scaly head to them as he was about to ask what they had summoned him for. That reason became clear as he recognised another presence amongst them: small, kneeling, quivering with fear.

Human, he recognised. Humans here … with Shalake.

His heart sank. He knew what usually came next.

‘Mahalar,’ Shalake said. ‘We found this one outside the reef. We await your wisdom.’

Of course, Mahalar thought with a sigh. ‘ Wisdom’ is not often needed to sentence terrified humans to death. All the same …

He came before the human, smelled his frightened breath, the salt on his skin, heard the quaver in his voice.

‘Your name?’ he asked.

‘S-Sebast,’ the human replied. ‘Of the Riptide, under the captaincy of one Argaol-’

‘Sebast,’ Mahalar repeated. ‘What is it you’ve come seeking?’

‘Our m-men,’ the human stammered. ‘Three men, two women, one … thing. They disembarked weeks ago. We were supposed to pick them up weeks ago. But our crew … dead … slaughtered. And now, me …’

He let that thought hang, unfinished, in the air, clearly hoping for a denial, a shake of Mahalar’s scaly, wrinkled head, anything that might suggest he would walk away from this.

Mahalar simply pulled a pipe from his robe and lit it, taking a few deep, long puffs.

‘Where were you to meet them?’ Mahalar asked.

‘T-Teji, sir. It’s supposed to be a trading post not far from-’

‘We know what Teji is, human,’ Shalake hissed. ‘But apparently youdo not. These waters are forbidden to humans.’

‘We didn’t know!’ Sebast squealed. ‘We didn’t know, I swear! Let me go and I’ll take my men away from here and never return.’

Mahalar looked to Shalake. ‘His men?’

‘Dead,’ Shalake answered.

‘W-what?’ Sebast stammered.

‘It is our way, unfortunately,’ Mahalar said. ‘We stand atop sacred ground, Sebast. Our charge sleeps deeply, and we take care that no one disturbs her.’

‘Your charge?’

‘It takes a long time to explain,’ Mahalar said. ‘A longer time to convince you. But we have been convinced for a long, long time. This is our charge. These are our oaths.’ He shook his head. ‘We break them for no one, Sebast.’

He glanced to Shalake, nodded. He felt the wind break as the great Shen’s club rose into the air. He felt the air stand silent as the great Shen’s voice followed.

‘ SHENKO-SA!’

‘No! PLEASE!’

He heard the sound of a melon splitting, a sack of fruits hitting the earth. He smelled blood on the air and sighed.

‘I am sorry, Sebast.’

‘We do as we have to,’ Shalake said. ‘If he found those humans he sought …’

‘I know,’ Mahalar said. ‘But I was told you sent warriors to deal with them.’

‘Yaike says that they are dead.’

‘And who told Yaike?’

‘Togu.’

‘Then be on your guard. Togu has forgotten much in his time away.’

‘We have not,’ Shalake said. ‘If they still live, we will kill them. The longfaces have been sunk, continue to sink as we find them. The demons …’

‘Are coming,’ Mahalar said.

‘You can sense them?’

‘As easily as I can sense you.’

‘How long?’

‘Not very.’

‘Why now?’

‘They are called.’

Mahalar turned to stare up the great stone staircase. He could feel the mountain towering above him, smell the rain clouds that hung about its peak. And deep within its stone heart, he could hear a sound, fainter, but growing louder.

A heart, beating.

‘She,’ he whispered softly, ‘is stirring.’