Bright stabs of light blinded him, crashing through the room with the fury of lightning, and Grisat felt the impacts against his shield, a double-punch that smashed him aside like a rag-doll. As he fell, more stuttering light tore through the air and in the after-light he saw figures captured in movement: red droplets of blood flying up, hanging in the air, while the Harlequin wove a path through them.
A cry of pain and Ilumene’s deep bellow shocked him back to his senses, and the clatter of steel and crashing magics assailed his ears. Grisat heard himself moan before his voice was drowned out by the wet slap of meat and the gasp of a dying man. He felt a body fall on his legs, limp in death, as a flash of energies scorched the beams overhead and winked out.
Then there was nothing. All was still. Grisat blinked and tried to sit up, but his body would not obey. Fear echoed from deep inside him; somewhere distant there was pain, but though he could sense its presence, he could not feel it. A cough broke the quiet, then there were muttered curses and the scrape of boots across the floor.
He heard a knife clatter on the bare wood of the staircase and he tried again to look up, but he couldn’t manage more than to stare at the scorched plaster, gaping like a fish drowning. For a moment he thought there might be words of some half-remembered language, but the effort of trying to fathom their meaning exhausted him.
A face appeared above him: Ilumene, bloodied and battered. His mouth hung open in a savage grin as red- tinted saliva dribbled out.
‘Still with us?’ Ilumene rasped.
Grisat tried to reply, but only a whisper of air escaped his lungs. The big soldier mouthed something in reply, but it was increasingly distant and garbled, as though his ears were submerged in water. He tried again, and failed, but Ilumene nodded as though he had understood the mercenary’s words all the same.
Ilumene brandished a glassy object above Grisat’s head and he tried to focus on it, but it caught the light and dazzled him. Ilumene grinned again and crouched to wipe his stained dagger on Grisat’s jacket. The mercenary flinched as the slender tip danced past his eyes, but Ilumene didn’t appear to notice.
‘Sorry ’bout the shield pretence,’ Ilumene said, sheathing his dagger. ‘You looked like you needed a bit of encouragement before you went through that door with me. A Bloodrose only works for the wearer, though, so false runes is all I had for you.’
Grisat had to strain to understand his words; that effort drained his strength and dimmed the room around him.
Ilumene patted his shoulder and stood. ‘You just lie there now,’ he said gently. ‘Get a good long sleep. Don’t worry about the rest o’ the guards.’ He slipped the glassy sphere into a cloth bag and tied it at his waist.
Grisat’s chest was tight. He didn’t try to speak again, or rise; he felt completely drained. Ilumene’s mention of sleep grasped him like a loving embrace.
‘Don’t worry ’bout the guards,’ Ilumene repeated with a wolfish grin. ‘Venn’s finished upstairs so mebbe we do have time t’kill ’em all. Emin does enjoy these little surprises.’
As the room darkened, Grisat watched Ilumene draw his knives again and turn towards the door. A blanket of peace settled over him, warm and comforting. The shadows crept closer, but now he didn’t fear them. It was time.
CHAPTER 27
‘Get out of my way!’ Doranei snapped as he shoved the soldier aside, raising his fist at the man’s comrade. The soldier reached for his weapon on instinct, then thought better of it and fell back.
‘Doranei, I’m not a damned child,’ Mage Endine insisted as Doranei dragged him through the milling troops. ‘Get your hands off me — that’s enough!’
Doranei growled something unintelligible and continued. Beneath Camatayl Castle it was utter chaos; barging was the only way of getting through the crowds.
‘Doranei, damn you, stop,’ Endine squeaked, struggling to keep up with the big King’s Man. ‘I’m warning you-’
From nowhere a bright white light enveloped Doranei. He heard shouts as men reeled from the blinding trails darting through the air and his own voice joined them as coils of light wrapped around his limbs and wrenched him from his feet. The Land spun around him and Doranei felt his feet dragged into the air.
‘Next time,’ Endine warned from somewhere below his head, ‘listen a bit more carefully.’
Doranei looked at the scrawny little shit standing a few feet below him, one hand extended and wreathed in jagged bands of light. There was a smug smile on the man’s unshaven face.
‘Let me down!’ Doranei demanded uselessly.
‘Not until you compose yourself,’ Endine said. He cocked his head at the King’s Man and twisted his hand slightly; the Land lurched around Doranei again and the sour taste of black tea filled his throat as he was righted, but he was still held captive in the mage’s grip.
‘Now, you are one of the finer killers in this army,’ Endine began, as if he were lecturing, ‘quite skilled, and armed with a Demi-God’s sword. I realise you are assiduous in the execution of your duties — indeed, devoted to a fault, and for that I commend you.’ Endine paused and the dancing trails of light around his hand trembled and turned red and green, adding a sickly shade to the mage’s pallid skin.
‘But,’ he continued in a voice that shook Doranei’s bones, ‘do not forget the power I now wield dwarfs anything you could ever hope to control!’
Doranei gaped in astonishment, but the feeble-looking mage hadn’t finished yet.
‘After all,’ he said in a more normal voice, ‘as my famous colleague was wont to say: what’s the point of all this power if I can’t bend the very fabric of the Land to my will?’
‘Ah, okay,’ Doranei croaked, ‘point taken.’
‘Good,’ Endine said with a smile, and released the magic.
Doranei fell in a heap at the man’s feet. For a moment he lay there, then he pulled himself onto his knees. He glared up at the mage. ‘Was that really necessary?’
‘I believe so,’ Endine replied primly. ‘You appeared to be labouring under the misconception that I am too feeble to protect myself.’
Doranei shook his head to get the dirt out of his hair and groaned. ‘Ashain was no weakling either,’ he said, ‘and you just told me he’s dead!’
‘I didn’t say there was no danger, just that you couldn’t do much about it. Next time you decide to drag me through the fields, perhaps you would bear in mind that I’m most vulnerable when distracted?’
Doranei struggled up and brushed himself down. He caught the eye of a passing company of soldiers who’d slowed to stare at them. ‘What the fuck’re you looking at?’ he roared, taking a step towards the newly recruited troops. ‘Get back to your divisions!’
They jumped to comply, and he felt his irritation drain away as he watched them march off untidily, a lieutenant with down on his cheeks barking nervous orders. Most of the army were new recruits, hastily armed and barely drilled. Narkang had been recruiting for almost a year now in preparation for war, but Doranei feared for these children.
‘Gods, when did I get old?’ he breathed as more soldiers clattered past in ill-fitting armour.
‘You were probably drunk at the time,’ Endine replied acidly. ‘Now you know how I feel, forced to spend months on end around you cocky Brotherhood wretches.’
Doranei grimaced. At least reinforcements had arrived from Canar Fell. They were a brash and unruly lot — it was no surprise that General Daken hailed from those parts — but for all their youth, the warrior spirit in that coastal corner of the nation did not appear to have been diminished by peace. They came bearing spears and shields, but every man also carried the axe he’d been trained to wield since childhood. They were inexperienced, but at least they had the hunger for battle King Emin so desperately needed.
‘Come on,’ he muttered, waving Endine forward. ‘Your news can’t wait.’ As they started up the slope towards the castle Endine’s charm-studded robe was enough to ensure the steady stream of troops on the road made way for them.
They found the king up on the battlements, surveying his troops with his two remaining generals, Bessarei
