The gate had been shattered. Icarium trailing a step behind, Taralack Veed followed the others into the compound, then the Jhag reached out and halted the Gral, 'No further.'
'What?'
There was an odd expression on Icarium's face. 'There is no need.'
Ahlrada Ahn, along with Saur and Kholb, accompanied the Arapay warlock into the shadowy, refuse-filled chamber of the throne room. The Seat of Shadow, the soul of Kurald Emurlahn, the throne that needed to be claimed, before the sundered realm could be returned to what it once was, a warren whole, seething with power.
Perhaps, with this, Rhulad could break theSathbaro Rangar cried out, a terrible sound, and he staggered.
Ahlrada Ahn's thoughts fell away. He stared.
The Throne of Shadow, there on a raised dais at the far end of the room…
It has been destroyed.
Smashed to pieces, the black wood splintered to reveal its blood-red heartwood. The demons yielded us… nothing. The Throne of Kurald Emurlahn is lost to us.
The warlock was on his knees, shrieking at the stained ceiling. Saur and Kholb stood, weapons out, yet seemingly frozen in place.
Ahlrada Ahn strode up to Sathbaro Rangar and grasped the warlock by the collar, then pulled him onto his feet. 'Enough of this,' he said.
'Gather yourself. We may be done here, but we are not done – you know this. The warriors will be thirsting for slaughter, now. You must return to the gate – there is another throne to be won, and those defending it will not flee as these ones have done here. Attend to yourself, Sathbaro Rangar!'
'Yes,' the warlock gasped, tugging free from Ahlrada Ahn's grip. 'Yes, you speak truth, warrior. Slaughter, yes, that is what is needed.
Come, let us depart – ah, in the name of Father Bloodeye, let us leave this place!'
'They return,' Taralack Veed said, as the Tiste Edur reappeared at the entrance to the temple. 'The warlock, he looks… aggrieved. What has happened?'
Icarium said nothing, but something glittered in his eyes.
'Jhag,' snarled Sathbaro Rangar as he limped past, 'gather yourself. A true battle awaits us.'
Confusion among the ranks of Edur, words exchanged, then an outcry, curses, bellows of fury. The anger spread out, a wildfire suddenly eager to devour all that would dare oppose it. Wheeling about, hastening towards the flickering gate.
They were not returning to the ships.
Taralack Veed had heard, from Twilight, that an Edur commander named Hanradi Khalag had been sending his warriors against another foe, through a gate – one that led, in a journey of days, to yet another private war. And it was these enemies who would now face the wrath of these Edur here. And that of Icarium.
So they shall see, after all. That is good.
At his side there came a sound from the Jhag that drew Taralack Veed around in surprise. Low laughter.
'You are amused?' he asked Icarium in a hoarse whisper.
'Of Shadow both,' the Jhag said enigmatically, 'the weaver deceives the worshipper. But I will say nothing. I am, after all, empty.'
'I do not understand.'
'No matter, Taralack Veed. No matter.'
The throne room was abandoned once more, dust settling, shadows slinking back to their predictable haunts. And, from the shattered throne itself, there grew a faint shimmering, a blurring of edges, then a wavering that would have alarmed any who witnessed it – but of such sentient creatures there were none.
The broken, crushed fragments of wood melted away.
And once more there on the dais stood the Throne of Shadow. And stepping free of it, a shadowy form more solid than any other.
Hunched, short, shrouded in folds of midnight gauze. From the indistinct smudge where a face belonged, only the eyes were visible, momentarily, a glinting flash.
The figure moved away from the throne, towards the doorway… silver and ebony cane tapping on the pavestones.
A short while later it reached the temple's entrance and looked out.
There, at the gate, walked the last of them. A Gral, and the chilling, dread apparition that was Icarium.
A catch of breath from the huddling shadow beneath the arched frame, as the Jhag paused once to glance back.
And Shadowthrone caught, in Icarium's expression, something like a smile, then the faintest of nods, before the Jhag turned away.
The god cocked his head, listening to the party hurry back up the path.
A short time later and they were gone, back through their gate.
Meticulous illusion, crafted with genius, triggered by the arrival of strangers – of, indeed, any but Shadowthrone himself – triggered to transform into a shattered, powerless wreck. Meanas, bound with Mockra, flung across the span of the chamber, invisible strands webbing the formal entrance. Mockra, filaments of suggestion, invitation, the surrendering of natural scepticism, easing the way to witness the broken throne.
Lesser warrens, yet manipulated by a god's hands, and not any god's hands, either. No… mine!
The Edur were gone.
'Idiots.'
'Three sorceror kings,' Destriant Run'thurvian said, 'rule ShalMorzinn. They will contest our passage, Adjunct Tavore Paran, and this cannot be permitted.'
'We would seek to negotiate,' the Adjunct said. 'Indeed, to purchase supplies from them. Why would they oppose this?'
'Because it pleases them to do so.'
'And they are formidable?'
'Formidable? It may well prove,' the Destriant said, 'that even with the assistance of your sorcerors, including your High Mage here, we will suffer severe, perhaps devastating losses should we clash with them. Losses sufficient to drive us back, even to destroy us utterly.'
The Adjunct frowned across at Admiral Nok, then at Quick Ben.
The latter shrugged. 'I don't even know who they are and I hate them already.'
Keneb grunted. Some High Mage.
'What, Destriant Run'thurvian, do you suggest?'
'We have prepared for this, Adjunct, and with the assistance of your sorcerors, we believe we can succeed in our intention.'
'A gate,' Quick Ben said.
'Yes. The Realm of Fanderay and Togg possesses seas. Harsh, fierce seas, but navigable nonetheless. It would not be wise to extend our journey in that realm overlong – the risks are too vast – but I believe we can survive them long enough to, upon re-emerging, find ourselves off the Dal Honese Horn of Quon Tali.'
'How long will that take?' Admiral Nok asked.
