rising out of Kelerish. That's why I went there, to show myself it was false. But Azkun emerged instead.”
“And Thalissa was alive in Lianar, not a ghost at all. Whatever demon brings you such dreams is either a liar or confused.”
“The ghost spoke to me, telling me these Gashans would attack. In the attack she said I would die.”
Adhara said nothing but he felt her arms wrap around him. Moonlight caught the grey threads of her hair as her chin rested on his shoulder.
“If you die tomorrow I'll be at your side. My life is over when yours is.”
“Don't say such things! If anything happens to me you must carry on. Drinagish will need you. Anthor will need you. If we're not destroyed you must be there to help rebuild.”
“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “But you must be there too, my love.”
The next day Gashan was arrayed before them across the plain. They were too distant to see any one of them clearly, but Menish remembered the murder in their eyes. The scouts had reported back, and the news was encouraging. A mere thirty thousand infantry and there was no possibility of a reserve force hidden under cover, the trees were thin at that end of the valley and the scouts had scoured the surrounding heights for hiding places.
On those numbers, by rights, the cavalry would hack the Gashans to pieces. The news rippled through the Anthorian ranks and Menish could see them looking both eager and relaxed. This would be easy meat, they would mow down these Gashans and then brag to the Relanese whose swords would be left unbloodied.
The scouts said the Gashans were poorly armed, carrying simple short swords and wearing nothing but their painted body designs. They did not even carry shields. It should have been encouraging, but to Menish it seemed that the Gashan army were perhaps so confident of their victory they had not bothered to arm themselves. The scouts had also seen the strange engines that Menish remembered from the last battle, the ones he thought threw fire. They were on wagons pulled by teams of Gashans, the scouts had counted eighty of them. Vorish had laid ten gourds of pitch.
And now Gashan was approaching. They came leisurely, silently, a walking pace, no faster. The wind shifted, blowing the stink of Gashan over them. They had brought the reek of their swamps with them, a rottenness that caught in Menish’s nostrils. There was also a smell of burning. Plumes of grey smoke rose over the Gashans as they prepared their machines for battle.
Menish looked up to Vorish’s command post on the hill. The signal to charge would sound soon. The Gashans approached the place where Vorish’s engineers had prepared their gourds of pitch. He glanced towards Adhara, reached for her hand and pressed it. She smiled grimly back at him, then turned her face towards the Gashans. Drinagish and his guard lay in front of them like a protective wall. But there were only seven of them. Bolythak was on his left, holding Menish’s standard studiously vertical, lest a small movement be misinterpreted.
The trumpet! It sounded from Vorish’s command post. Menish nodded to Bolythak. The standard dipped and Anthor began to move, slowly at first, building to a gallop. War cries and yak horns sounded from left and right. The Gashans continued their walking pace as if nothing was happening.
They were heartbeats from the Gashan front line when there was a deafening clap like thunder. Fire exploded in the Gashan front ranks. There were screams and burning, several Gashans were thrown into the air. Another explosion over to the left, and another. Menish saw one horse at the front of the Anthorian line shy, then it and its rider were lost under the hoofs of the horse behind. Their first casualty.
“Drinagish’s fire!” cried Menish. “Now show them Anthor’s mettle!”
But his words were cut short. A low rumble sounded, like distant thunder, there was a flash, a second’s blindness, and most of Anthor’s left flank disappeared in an inferno. At that moment Menish lost all hope, at that moment they struck the Gashan front ranks.
Chapter 37: The Vaults of Duzagen
Azkun and his companions landed at Lianar one hundred days after sailing from Atonir. They had had less distance to travel from Kishalkuz to Lianar than from Atonir to Kishalkuz but they did not have a following wind and had to tack this way and that to travel home. Although they did not realise it, this was the same day Menish and Vorish set out from Meyathal.
During their voyage Azkun had become haggard and worn, though he did little work on the boat. His dreams tormented him and there was something like madness in his eye, but his mouth was grim with resolve. Ever since Kishalkuz his dreams had been infested with the Gashan demanding blood.
Lianar looked the same as they had left it. Small fishing boats bobbed by the great stone pier and mist surrounded the small cove. Gulls cried above, gliding in and out of the mist, fighting over scraps of fish left on the docks or floating on the sea. Astae's inn stood where it had done for so many years.
It was strange to stand on solid ground again when Azkun stepped onto the pier. He remembered the circumstances in which he had left here, the spectres that Tenari had made irrelevant by her presence. Those spectres had retreated from reality now, but Tenari could not save him from the Gashan. The dragons could not save him either. They were just beasts. He could only save himself.
After Althak and Shelim had fastened the boat they went to the inn. Azkun wanted to see it again. He wanted to see the pictures on the walls.
“Welcome, welcome, M'Lords,” beamed Astae as they approached his door. It was mid morning and the inn was deserted. “You're back from the southern lands, it was my ale that brought you back-” he stopped when he saw Azkun's face. It was plain that Azkun wanted neither ale nor friendship. The look in his eye was alarming and Astae stepped back as he shouldered past him into the inn. Tenari, clinging to his arm, was pulled blankly after him.
“My friend is… unwell. We've travelled far, further than I ever imagined,” said Althak by way of apology.
“We have been to Kishalkuz,” said Shelim in a lowered voice. “It's Kopth himself who walks in your inn.”
“Kopth? Kishalkuz?” The innkeeper laughed. “And you are Yaggrothil, I suppose?”
“It's true!” said Shelim.
“It doesn't matter, but for your own sake, Astae, be careful of what you say to him. He's not what he seems.” Althak spoke so seriously that Astae's humour evaporated and he nodded dumbly.
They entered the inn to find Azkun staring at the picture of Gilish throwing himself into the Chasm of Kelerish. He glared at it as if it were a personal threat.
“Do you still want to do this?” asked Althak, placing a gentle hand on Azkun's shoulder.
“I have never wanted it, but I must do it.” He turned to Tenari. “Look at her, Althak. She is under a spell, she is trapped by the Monnar. I do not know how to free her. Gashan will destroy Anthor and probably Relanor; I promised them help, but I do not know how to save them. In Kelerish I will find out or I will die.” He nodded at the picture on the wall. “I hoped I would learn something from the pictures. They only show me how to fail. I do not want to fail.”
“And you will still journey alone?”
“Yes.” Tenari, who clung to his arm showed no sign that she understood him. Her blank expression was unchanged.
Althak sighed.
“I wish I could think of something else you should do instead, but all I can do is help you to your doom. You'll need a horse to take you to Kelerish. I have some gold. We should be able to find one here, though we'll not be overwhelmed with choice.”
Leaving Shelim at the inn Althak sought out his cousin Akarth. He had a household across the road from the inn and to reach it they had to pass the dragon post. Azkun had not seen it on his previous visit but now it confronted him: a thick, wooden post rammed into the ground with a carefully carved dragon’s head on its top. The sides of the post were black with old blood and the mud around its base was a dark shade of red.
He stopped before it. The dragon's head seemed to leer at him like a spectre and he instinctively clutched Tenari's arm. He would have to leave her soon, what would he do if the spectres came upon him when he was alone?
“Althak, what is this?”
