provided and the link with the Old Gods it gave him.
When first Alzibar had hatched it from the purple eggs using his alchemy, Zarahel had been horrified. Now he was used to it, and he was uncomfortable if he could not feel it scuttling around under his loose robes. The narcotic bites provided him with a euphoric confidence beyond anything he had ever experienced. His sorcerous powers had grown because of it. Perhaps now he would even be a match for a Terrarch.
Bertragh looked better. He had been in a strange fey mood for the past few days. He looked at Zarahel as if half expecting him to betray their masters in the Brotherhood. It would not matter much after tonight. Uran Ultar would be summoned and the assembled warriors would witness it. Word that he enjoyed the Old Gods favour would spread from tribe to tribe and they would swarm to his banner. Those that did not would be eliminated by the night-black sorcery he would command. He would be lord of the mountains and holy war would restore the empire his ancestors had lost.
Alzibar being slain had proved a good thing. Now matters lay purely in the hands of men and that was as it should be. The Old God really did favour him, as it had whispered in his dreams. He shivered as he remembered the black visions that had swept through his mind the night before. He had seen the past.
He had seen Achenar in its days of ancient glory when the proud civilisation of the Agante had dominated these lands, and the priests had offered up their screaming captives on the altars of Uran Ultar. He had seen the things that scuttled in the depths below the mountains, the living machines that wove spidersilk armour for the armies of Achenar, and birthed their living weapons. He had seen what the Spider God had provided his people with in return for the tithe of souls, and he knew it was a price worth paying. He had seen the time when all the proud emperors of men had sent tribute to Achenar.
He had seen other things in his dreams. He had seen the war of men and Ultari and Terrarch. He had seen the dragon-riders incinerating the Spider God’s followers. He had seen the final battle that had destroyed the surface city and sealed the city below. He had seen the way Uran Ultar had retreated through his portal, taking the souls and life force of his people with him, to wait, like a great trapdoor spider, for someone to come and free him.
Today was that day. He would crack the final secrets within Alzibar’s books. He would restore the ancient glory of his folk. He would drive the Terrarchs from this land. It was his destiny. Nothing could stand in his way. The Exalted were weak now, fragmented into many rival Realms and men were stronger and had guns. This time things would be different. With Uran Ultar’s help, men would prevail.
Nonetheless he was not taking any chances. Since his arrival he had already dispatched small groups of scouts to watch the approaches and report back. There would be no surprise attacks this time. Even without Alzibar to set wards he was determined on that.
Now all he had to do was make his way down into the depths of Achenar and seize control of his own destiny.
“Our lord and master is in a big hurry,” said Weasel. He was right, Rik thought. They’d already spent more than half a day on wyrmback and had not stopped to eat.
“It looks like we’re going to have trouble.” Rik said, studying the slopes above them and the peaks beyond. His mind still dwelt on Asea’s words. She knew something. The question was what? And there was another question — what was he going to do about it? Plotting to kill Bertragh was one thing, murdering one of the First surrounded by her bodyguards and her ripjacks and the Queen’s soldiers was another. He was not sure it was possible. Ever since he had picked up those damned books, one thing had led to another. He felt like his feet were on a long and slippery slope leading down to the edge of a vast chasm.
“Maybe the witch told him something,” said Leon. It was all Rik could do to keep from starting. It sounded like Leon had been reading his mind. “He spent enough time in her tent last night.”
“Can’t say as I blame him. I would shag her,” said the Barbarian.
“So you told anybody who would listen yesterday,” said Sergeant Hef. “I would keep quiet about it if I were you. Maybe those black clad henchmen will hear you.”
“Maybe they’ll tell her,” said the Barbarian. “Who knows where that might lead?”
“To you being burned at the stake,” said the Sergeant.
“It might be worth it.”
Rik studied the clouds massing around the peaks. It looked like the weather was going to change again. It also did so quickly up here in the mountains.
“It’s not her I am worried about,” said Hef. “It’s the hill-men. Some of them are out for blood and this is their territory. Once word that we’re here hits the high valley of the Agante, I expect they will be paying us a visit.”
“Bring them on,” said the Barbarian. “I will get to impress the Lady Asea with my heroism.”
“If she was impressed by stupidity,” said the Sergeant, “you would be in with a chance.
“No,” said the Barbarian proudly. “If she was impressed by stupidity I would be in bed with her already.”
It took him a few moments to realise what he had just said.
Zarahel sat in his sanctum in the old mansion and studied the text once more. He had it now. The narcotic venom burning in his veins had given him the critical insights. He had been guided by unerring instinct to the right page of the right volume. He reached within his robes and stroked the creature affectionately. He had found the secrets that Alzibar had sought to hide from him. Power beyond his wildest dreams was within his grasp.
Of course, he thought sourly, there was still the little matter of performing the ritual correctly and making contact with the demon god and binding it to his will. That was a prospect that had daunted a sorcerer considerably more experienced than himself. The familiar bit him again. Ecstatic joy and renewed confidence came with the bite.
Of course, he could do it. Of course he would succeed. Something wriggled within the blister on his neck. The sensation was oddly pleasurable.
He stood up and for the first time in hours became aware of his body and his surroundings. His back ached a little. His eyes felt raw. Blood from the battle his followers had lost to the Foragers still stained the mansion’s walls. He could smell it in the air.
He glanced out the window to where the dark waters of the lake reflected the cloudy sky. In the distance the work-teams laboured away around the mine. He needed the ways below to be clear by tonight, and the damage those idiotic soldiers had done to be repaired, or all of his plans would come to naught.
Bertragh looked at him warily. There was fear in his eyes now. The prospect of what they were doing was becoming real to him. His gaze was drawn inexorably to Zarahel’s neck and the purple blister visible there. The prophet pulled up his cowl to cover it.
Zarahel packed the books away into their leather satchel and made for the door. “Come on. We’d best begin preparations for the ritual. Are you certain you know your part?”
“As certain as I know my own name, Zarahel.” The sorcerer hoped so. When dealing with demons, you could afford no mistakes.
In the corner a fly struggled in a cobweb. The spider came ever closer. Zarahel paused to watch, fascinated.
“Looks like they are at it again,” said the Barbarian. “I wonder what they are talking about up there.”
Rik followed his gaze, fear gnawed at his stomach. Lieutenant Sardec had joined the Lady Asea on the back of her huge black wyrm, his own mount followed close behind. Rik wondered if she was telling Sardec about the books. He felt sure now that she knew more about the matter than she had told him. A word in the officer’s ear and he and Weasel and the Barbarian would be having their chestnuts roasted on an Inquisition fire. As if he sensed the intensity of Rik’s gaze, one of Asea’s servants turned and looked back in his direction.
Rik wondered about those black clad men too. They did everything for her. They were servants. They were mahouts and they were bodyguards. He was sure, too, that they would be full of unpleasant surprises. He hoped that he or one of the others got to Bertragh before they did. Although perhaps that did not matter now.
How quickly things changed in such short times, he thought, studying the cloud girt peaks and the grey landscape that stretched out below them. The last time they had passed this way, he had nothing to worry about
