“What difference does it. .”
“And this room,” the Proxi continued. “The floor is cleaner than any plate I’ve ever eaten from in the Centurai barracks of our great Lord Timuran. No dust. No dirt. But where are the chairs? Where are the tables? There are images of them carved into the wall facing the archway, but there’s not a stick of either to be found inside. Look, Drakis!
“Stop it, Braun! I don’t care. .”
The Proxi turned again to face Drakis. “Where are the children who squealed through the streets with joy, Drakis? Where are the women who breathed life into this place? Where are the gray-bearded elder dwarves with their frail bodies and their wisdom aged like fine wine?”
“I don’t. . I don’t know!” Drakis answered.
“No, you
Drakis reached behind him, feeling for the archway as he carefully backed away from the wild-eyed Proxi.
“It’s all unraveling, Drakis,” Braun said softly. His tongue flicked to the corner of his mouth, drawing in the spittle that had formed there. “Here in the darkness I can
Drakis felt the edge of the archway with his left hand and carefully stepped back into it, His right hand slowly reached across his body almost without conscious thought, his palm resting on the hilt of his sword. “Braun, we’re warriors. . Impress Warriors of House Timuran. .”
“No, Drakis, you’re wrong,” Braun breathed through clenched teeth. He would not stop advancing. “Who are you, Drakis? Why do you fight so well? What makes you so determined to live?”
“I fight. .” Drakis swallowed, taking another step back through the archway. “I fight for the glory of Rhonas, for her Emperor, and for the glory of House Timuran!”
“Pretty speech, hollow words,” Braun spoke, his words dripping disdain. “You dance like a marionette and vomit out the words spoken by others behind the curtain. I’ve
Drakis’ breath was coming hard.
“Tell me!”
He suddenly thought of Mala-his beautiful Mala working in the foundations of the magnificent palace of Sha-Timuran. Her image floated before him in his mind; she reached up with her hand to wipe the sweat from her clean-shaven head before she returned to scrubbing the path stones beneath the graceful towers of their master’s citadel that floated above the garden. He could almost catch the glint of her emerald eyes, feel the curve of her cheek in his hand. He had to return to her-for her and with the honor that they both so desperately needed. She was unaware of the danger he was in-that his life could end at any moment-and the thought of her not knowing comforted him.
He could almost hear her humming to herself as she worked in the garden. .
Braun was smiling at him. “So you
Drakis gripped his sword, pulling it from the scabbard.
Braun anticipated the move. The Proxi
Braun leaned down, his head and shoulders silhouetted against the light from the Aether crystal on his staff.
“We’re empty rooms, Drakis, all of us,” Braun said in short breaths. “Nothing but the form of what our masters have molded us to be. But I’ve
Drakis reached up with both hands, gripping the staff at his throat. “Braun! Stop!”
“I can’t stop now,” Braun answered, shaking his head with an unnatural smile. “You’ve got to see the ghosts! They’re waiting for us both-calling to us-longing to take us to a better destiny.”
Braun looked up. The roof of the avenue was a great arched ceiling barely visible beyond the light from the staff.
“The ghosts come in the darkness,” Braun giggled. “Some things are seen better in the dark. . some things are
The glow from the staff began to fade. The impenetrable darkness slowly closed in on them again as the light shrank.
“Soon your soul will be open at last,” Braun nodded, the features of his face vanishing into a vague shape as the light receded. “The ghosts will spill from you and you will
Darkness enveloped them.
“You will
Stars appeared.
Impossibly, above him in the pitch blackness two-thirds of a league below the mountain, the night sky filled his vision.
The stars shifted as he watched in slack-jawed wonder.
He felt as though he were falling up toward them.
Faces started forming among the stars. Faces he had forgotten. Faces he once knew.
Ghosts.
Drakis screamed.
“Drakis! Are you injured?”
Drakis opened his eyes to see the faces of his Octian, lit by a single globe-torch, staring down at him.
The human warrior sat up on the stones of the avenue and drew in a painful breath. “No, Captain ChuKang. I can fight.”
The manticore stood up, pulling Drakis to his feet as he did. “We thought we had lost you,