It was close to midnight when Sigarni struggled over the last rise. Below her the Falls were silent, frozen in mid-fall, and the pool was a field of snow over thick ice. Sigarni clambered down to the cave where Taliesen had nursed her. There was still some firewood stacked against the far wall. Releasing her pack, she built a blaze. The skin of her face prickled painfully as the heat touched her, and her fingers were thick and clumsy as she added fuel to the fire.
Removing her top-coat, she opened the pack and lifted clear the contents, setting them out in neat rows.
When to begin? Tomorrow? Tonight? Fear made her consider tackling the tasks now – immediately, but she was a Highlander and well understood the perils of fatigue in blizzard conditions.
No. Tonight she would rest, gathering her strength. Tomorrow the work could begin.
Ballistar awoke when he heard one of the warriors walk along the corridor outside and knock quietly at Kollarin’s door. The dwarf sat up. He could hear voices, but the words were muffled by the wall. Curious, he scrambled from the bed and ambled to the door. Outside the former servant, Ari, was talking to Kollarin. The Outlander was bare-chested, his dark hair hanging loose. ‘The Lord needs you -now,’ said Ari.
‘In the middle of the night?’ queried Kollarin. ‘Can it not wait?’
‘Now,’ repeated Ari. ‘It is a matter of great urgency.’
‘Does he want me also?’ asked Ballistar.
Ari glanced down at the dwarf. ‘He did not say so – but I think your counsel would be most welcome. He will meet you in the Long Hall.’
Minutes later, as Ballistar and Kollarin entered the hall, they saw Taliesen and the black man sitting by the fire. Ballistar cursed under his breath. He tugged the hem of Kollarin’s green tunic. ‘Sorcerer,’ he whispered. As the two men approached the fire, Asmidir beckoned them to sit.
‘Sigarni has left the encampment,’ he said. ‘It is imperative that we find her swiftly.’
‘Why would she go?’ asked Ballistar. Asmidir switched his gaze to Taliesen and the old man took a deep breath.
‘How much do you know of her childhood?’ he asked.
‘Everything.’
‘Then you will recall how her … parents were killed.’
Ballistar felt his heartbeat quicken, and his mouth was suddenly dry. ‘They were killed by … by demons.’
‘By demons, yes. Summoned by an enchanter who calls himself Jakuta Khan. There is much that I cannot tell you, but you should know this: Jakuta has returned. Twice already he has tried to capture Sigarni. Once as a babe. I thwarted him then, with the help of Caswallon. Then he found where we had hidden her and came again, killing her guardians. I thought he was finished then, but somehow he survived. We must find her.’
‘Why does he want to kill her? Is he hired by the Baron?’ asked Kollarin.
‘No. This goes back a very long way. As I said, I cannot tell you everything. But the heart of the matter is Sigarni’s blood, or more accurately her blood line. She is of the blood of kings. Those who understand the mystic arts will know why that is important to Jakuta.’
Kollarin nodded. Ballistar looked from one to the other. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘Power,’ Kollarin told him. ‘It is believed that the soul of a king carries great power. To sacrifice such a man would bestow enormous power on the one who carried out the deed. It is said that the Demon Lord, Salaimun, conquered the world after killing three kings. I don’t know whether there be truth in such tales.’
‘Some truth,’ said Taliesen. ‘Salaimun made pacts with the Lords of the pits. He fed them blood and souls in return for power. Jakuta made a similar pact. But he has failed – twice.’
‘As far as I understand it,’ said Asmidir, ‘if you fail then your own soul is consumed. Is that not one of the dangers of necromancy?’
‘It should be,’ agreed Taliesen. ‘I can only surmise that Jakuta used a familiar through which to cast his spells of summoning.’
‘A familiar?’ echoed Ballistar.