it.’
Doranei turned to where Zhia was standing looking impatient. ‘Just as well we’re family,’ he grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head and headed over.
‘Climb this branch for me,’ Zhia commanded before he’d even reached her. ‘I want you to loop a rope around the end.’
‘Eh?’ Doranei looked up at the small tree, an elderberry with long, slender branches.
‘Was that too complicated a request?’ Zhia said sharply. ‘Climb, tie, try not to fall on your head.’
‘Not sure it’ll take my weight so well.’ He turned away from her stern expression and fetched Isak’s massive horse instead. The branch was higher than a man could reach, but from Megenn’s back he found it a simple enough task to tie the rope on as ordered. Slipping down, he offered her the rope.
‘Put a stake in the ground and tie it down,’ she said, ignoring the proffered rope. ‘We need an archway big enough to allow horses through.’
Doranei didn’t bother asking why, but summoned Daken to help haul over what was left of the fallen tree they’d burned overnight. With a bit of levering it was moved into place and the rope tightened around it so that Zhia had the arch she required, weighed down by a log the size of a man.
Without bothering to thank them, Zhia came around the straining branch and knelt under the arch, one hand pressed to the Crystal Skull at her waist. Doranei exchanged a look with Veil as he retreated out of her way; his Brother was overly amused at Zhia’s displeasure.
The vampire reached out a gloved hand with her palm vertical, as though pressed flat against a door rather than in mid-air.
Doranei could see nothing of her face, but he had spent enough time in her company to recognise the taste of magic in the air as she drew on the Skull. The smell of her perfume seemed to wash over him on the wind and Doranei instinctively tilted his head up like a dog catching a scent.
‘Down, boy,’ Veil muttered from beside him, ‘mind on the job.’
The King’s Man scowled and pursed his lips.
Faint trails of light began to swirl through the air around Zhia, slow and languorous. The wisps were barely more than suggestions in the air, but they traced a pattern that almost looked like runes before fading and being replaced by others. The trails continued to move outwards, spreading up to the edges of the branch and tree trunk until there was a silvery white glimmer on the inner edge of the arch.
‘Thought mirror-magic had to be worked from the destination,’ Veil whispered in Doranei’s ear.
‘It does,’ he confirmed, ‘but we’re going further than anyone’s capable of by themselves — she’s adding her strength to the link, or we’ll never reach the mirror.’
Behind them the rest of the party had gathered the horses and were preparing to lead them through the archway. The light around the edge of the arch continued to brighten while the air within grew dark and shadowy, reflecting the shadow of the courtyard Mage Ashain would be using, Doranei guessed.
He disliked trusting a man who’d been so vocal an opponent of the king’s for so many years, but there was no denying the man’s skill.
The shadowy air seemed to coalesce with a snap, almost as tangible as a curtain that trembled under Zhia’s fingers. The vampire stood and gestured for Vesna to go ahead. ‘The link is secure, but we should not waste time.’
Vesna nodded and briskly walked his horse through, vanishing into thin air as the dark curtain billowed around him. They had agreed he would go first, in case there was any form of treachery — it was unlikely any enemy mage would be able to hold a link open if the Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn attacked him, but as it was, the curtain settled with unnatural speed and was still long before the next person went through.
‘Move yourselves,’ Zhia snapped at those lingering behind. ‘Ashain is only mortal and his strength will be quickly sapped.’
Veil’s earlier mirth vanished and he jumped to obey with the rest. Doranei sent the horses through one by one, then it was his turn to step through. He couldn’t help but glance at Zhia before he did so, and she gave him a slight smile, her irritation melting away. The King’s Man took a deep breath and let his fingers settle around the hilt of his brutal broadsword before stepping forward.
With the sensation of a trickle of water dancing over his entire body at once, he pushed through the grey curtain and out into the courtyard of Leppir Manor, many miles to the south. He shivered and almost stumbled as the Land around him seemed to reform in a bright flash of light, grey pillars and flagstones replacing the trees and leaf-strewn ground. His stomach lurched and black stars burst before his eyes, fading only slowly when he tried to blink them away. The touch of the curtain had left a chill on his skin that raised every hair and set goosebumps on his body. A wave of dizziness passed over him and an ache blossomed in his head.
‘Stop gawping and move!’ snapped a voice he didn’t recognise, and he turned to see Mage Ashain, his bearded face contorted with effort. He moved to the side of the enormous mirror he’d just stepped out of, where Daken was waiting, ready to grab at the reins of the next horse to come through.
‘Only way to travel eh?’ the white-eye laughed, apparently unaffected by the strange sensation.
Doranei shivered again as Hulf scampered through, followed quickly by Isak. ‘Prefer my hangovers to follow a drink or two,’ he croaked, pinching between his eyes as the ache continued.
Daken cackled. ‘Let’s see what we can do about that, then!’
CHAPTER 22
At dusk, after a day of rest and recovery at Leppir Manor, Isak began to grow restless. The manor was owned by King Emin and maintained by a steward as a useful waystation on the border; the region had been fractious for years. After long weeks of travelling their horses were in need of rest; they all needed to replenish their supplies, repair clothes, tend weapons and spend at least one day not fleeing from search parties of Black Swords.
The haunted look was still on Isak’s face when he headed through the long hall. Without speaking Vesna followed his friend outside to the courtyard, where Hulf lay watching the steward’s geese from a safe distance. The dog gave a happy bark at the sight of Isak and ran to him.
It had been a warm day and neither man had bothered with anything thicker than a tunic. Isak’s brown sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, displaying the strange balance of light and dark on his scarred forearms. The Skull of Ruling was a bulge at his waist, kept secure by a thick strip of cloth worn under his shirt. His right hand was empty again, the skin as dark as charcoal.
Hulf kept clear of it, Vesna saw, though he couldn’t begin to guess whether that was wariness of the black sword’s return or fear of touching Isak’s stained skin.
‘Isak,’ Vesna began hesitantly, ‘what does it feel like?’
‘The sword?’ He raised his hand to inspect his skin. The look on his face was one of wonder and disbelief, as though even Isak couldn’t believe the strange turns his life had taken. ‘Like a cloud’s crossed the sun, that sudden chill — but the rest of my body is still hot, warmed by Ghenna’s echo in my bones.’
Vesna flexed the black-iron clad fingers of his own God-touched limb. ‘Do you feel Death’s presence?’
Isak laughed softly. ‘I’ve felt that for a while, my friend. No, I know you didn’t mean it that way: you mean can I feel Death’s spirit as you feel Karkarn’s?’
‘I suppose I do, yes.’
‘No, and for that I’m glad. He’s not so much a part of me as that — maybe it’s because the Gods are weakened, but all I can feel of Death Himself is an echo in my bones. It’s not so different to when I had the Reapers caught in my shadow. Maybe it’s better to say I’m walking with one foot in the lands beyond this one. Part of me is still there, and Termin Mystt’s the key to reaching it. I actually feel more complete this way, can you believe that? My soul’s caught between realms, but with Termin Mystt in my hand I feel like I’m on the border between them. It’s not enjoyable, but at least it feels like I can reach both parts of me from here.’
‘Will you be able to step back from it?’
‘Step back?’
Vesna caught his friend’s arm, careful to touch the cloth of his sleeve only. ‘Isak, you can’t live this way for
