“Perhaps you overestimate the strength of your Tower.”
“That is virtually impossible.”
“You are confident that you can face down all the armies of the East without allies?”
“To be frank, should the need arise, yes.”
“Then you have grown mighty indeed, my Lord.”
“I have grown mighty, Asea. More powerful than you could ever dream.”
“Really,” said Asea. Her smile had a woman’s effortless mockery of male vanity in it. If this affected Ilmarec he gave no sign.
“Join me, Asea. You too, Lieutenant. I have something to show you. I believe you will find it of interest.”
“I would speak with Kathea,” said Asea.
“You will have the opportunity to do so.”
Ilmarec rose from the throne and flanked by his robed shadow headed for the exit. He paused to indicate that the two of them should follow. Sardec was not sure of the wisdom of doing so. It would mean leaving the Foragers behind. They might not be able to provide much protection within the Tower but they were the only troops he had on hand, and he was loathe to abandon them. He glanced at Asea. She nodded almost imperceptibly and rose to follow Ilmarec.
There was nothing else for Sardec to do but accompany her.
“I don’t like this at all, Halfbreed,” said the Barbarian. Rik was forced to agree. This was an uncanny place. The lighting and the strange Elder World architecture reminded him of the lost city of Uran Ultar.
“Really?” said Weasel in a low murmur. “What is there to dislike — Elder World sorcery, all the gates locked and us surrounded by a small army? I don’t see what you are whining about.”
“What about that thing at the gates?” said the Barbarian. “It fairly made my flesh crawl. It felt as if some demon was peering straight into my soul.”
Rik was about to ask him what he was talking about when Weasel said: “Aye, that was a shocker and no mistake.”
Weasel was not a man to ever admit to being frightened, so it must have been a powerful thing indeed. Rik heard others muttering about it, and saw them making Elder signs in the air with their fingers. He seemed to be the only man in the squad who had missed out on the experience.
“And what was that robed thing hovering beside Ilmarec?”
“Some ancient evil brought to life by dark sorcery, no doubt,” said Rik.
“It didn’t half smell,” said the Barbarian.
“It would probably say the same about you,” said Weasel.
“You think old Ilmarec is going to lock up the Lieutenant and the Lady?” The Barbarian asked.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?” said Weasel.
“We’d better hope not,” said Rik. “If he imprisons them, think what he might do to us. We are not Terrarchs. He likes to toss insubordinate humans off the walls or so I hear. That means you two could be in for a long drop.”
“You’ll be safe then, Halfbreed,” said Weasel. “There’s nothing much human about you.”
The ramp wound a long way up through the centre of the Tower, spiralling for so long that Sardec began to feel dizzy. Just when he had started to wonder whether it would ever end, they emerged onto a landing. They were not quite on the roof but they were close. Only a short spike of jade-like substance rose above them. Sardec could not help but notice that a huge, greenly glowing gem was mounted atop the spike.
“The Fang of the Serpent,” said Ilmarec, gesturing to the jewel.
“Is this the source of your new-found power?” asked Asea.
“As you know I have always maintained we Terrarchs were too certain of our own superior wisdom. The Sathur possessed the secret of magic that makes ours look like child’s play.”
“You are about to demonstrate this, I suppose.”
“I have been busy while you played at politics, Asea. I have been about the business of learning our craft, a thing that you seem to have sorely neglected of late.”
A dangerous note had entered Ilmarec’s voice and a wild light was in his eye. Sardec weighed the chances of pushing the wizard from the roof of the Tower. He was fairly certain he could manage it before Ilmarec could react. The only question then was what would the robed figure do, and all the retainers in the Tower? He might be able to assassinate the Tower’s master but he was sure that he would join him in death minutes later, at most.
As if it sensed his thoughts the robed figure moved closer, swirling between him and the sorcerer. As the wind whipped its robes around its ankles, he noticed it had no feet. No limbs touched the ground. Whatever was within those bundles of cloth, it was floating, not walking. He shivered and peered into its cowl. He thought he caught sight of faint glowing lights there, but he could be wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Ilmarec’s guardian was undoubtedly the product of dark and evil sorcery.
“You may be right,” said Asea. She sounded unusually tired and forthright. “Why don’t you just show us what you brought us here to see?”
Ilmarec nodded slightly. “You see that building there, amid the shattered ruins?”
Asea nodded.
“Watch!”
He closed his eyes and raised his hands in the air and chanted something in a language part hisses and part guttural growling. The gem above them glowed softly and then gave forth a pulse of light. Sardec felt a brief sensation of almost intolerable heat. The light touched the huge rock, and the stone flew apart. A few moments later, there came a sound like a thunderclap.
Sardec was awestruck. Glowing chips of broken stone lay everywhere. A cloud of what might have been steam rose above it. He had never seen a weapon of such power. Dragon breath would merely have heated a building that size, and a cannonball knocked chips from it. This was something else.
It was as if God had struck the rock with his thunderbolt. Such a weapon could destroy a siege engine long before it got within range of the Tower. It could blast a dragon from the sky. Perhaps it could single out a sorcerer in the midst of an army. An enemy wizard might never get to finish his rituals before being sent screaming straight to hell. Ilmarec was indeed secure in his Tower.
Asea’s face was a mask of calm control. “That is the weapon the Sathur used against our fleet at Ssaharoc. You have learned their secrets.”
“Indeed.”
“How did you do it?”
“Centuries of study, of course.” Even Sardec heard the lie in his words. Perhaps Ilmarec intended it. Or perhaps power had gone to his head and clouded his judgement.
“You finally found a way into the sealed areas of the Tower.”
“Yes, Asea, I did. It was not easy but I did it.”
“There are those who would pay you a fortune for the secret of such a thing,” said Sardec.
“I have a fortune. I don’t need another.”
“What do you want then?” Asea asked.
“To be left in peace by both sides in your putrid little squabble. For my nation to be spared the agony of having more centuries of war fought over it.”
“If I had my way you would have those things,” said Asea.
“Oddly enough, your friend Lord Jaderac said the same thing.”
“Jaderac wants to see the old rule restored. He wants all humans to be thralls again. The world has changed. He is fighting against history.”
“He thinks he is fighting against you, Asea. And Azaar. And those who support the two of you.” He smiled and almost as an afterthought added; “And Queen Arielle, of course.”
“We have talked about this before, you and I. We could not keep the humans enslaved forever. They have learned too much. They are too many. They are too strong.”
“Jaderac and his kind are strong as well.”
“Not strong enough.”
“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps not. I fear Lord Jaderac has been dabbling in forbidden arts. I fear many easterners have, in preparation for the struggle with our former slaves.”
