‘You acted correctly,’ he told the men. ‘Captain Badayen should not have charged. He should have ridden ahead, as ordered and held the last bridge. You are blameless. Had the captain survived I would have hanged him. Go and get some food.’
The men stood blinking in disbelief. Then they bowed and swiftly backed from the tent. Anharat gazed at his officers, sensing their relief. What curious creatures these humans are, he thought.
‘Leave me now,’ he told them.
No-one moved. Not a man stirred. All stood statue still, not a flickering muscle, not the blink of an eyelid, As if from a great distance Anharat heard the gentle tinkling music of wind chimes. He spun around to see Emsharas standing by the tent entrance. His brother was wearing a sky-blue robe, and a gold circlet adorned his brow. It was no vision! Emsharas was here in the flesh.
A cold fury grew within Anharat, and he began to
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summon his power. ‘Not wise, brother,’ said Emsharas. ‘You need all your strength for the completion of the Spell.’
It was true. ‘What do you want here?’ demanded Anharat.
‘Peace between us – and the salvation of our people,’ said Emsharas.
‘There will never be peace between you and I. You betrayed us all. I will hate you until the stars burn out and die, and the universe returns to the dark.’
‘I have never hated you, Anharat. Not now, not ever. But I ask you – as I asked you once before – to consider your actions. The Illohir could never have won. We are few, they are many. Their curious minds grow with each passing generation. The secrets of magick will not be held from them for ever. Where then shall we be? What must we become, save dusty legends from their past? We opened the gateways, you and I. We brought the Illohir to this hostile world. We did not kill when we were Windborn, we did not lust after terror and death.’
Anharat gave a derisive laugh. ‘And we knew no pleasures, save those of the intellect. We knew no joys, Emsharas.’
‘I disagree. We saw the birthing of stars, we raced upon the cosmic storm winds. There was joy there. Can you not see that we are alien to this planet? It conspires against us. The waters burn our skin, the sunlight saps our strength. We cannot feed here, unless it be from the emotions of humans. We are parasites on this world. Nothing more.’
Emsharas stepped further into the tent, and looked closely at the frozen officers. ‘Their dreams are different from ours. We will never live among them. And one day they will destroy us all.’
They are weak and pitiful,’ said Anharat, his hand
slowly moving towards the dagger at his belt. It would need no magick to plunge a dagger into his brother’s heart. Then he too would be cast into Nowhere.
‘I offer a new world for our people,’ said Emsharas.
‘Tell me the source of your power,’ whispered Anharat, his fingers curling around the dagger hilt.
Emsharas swung to face him. ‘Why have you not already guessed it?’ he countered. ‘All the clues are there, in the failure of your search spells, and the nature of the Great Spell itself.’
‘You found a place to hide. That is all I know.’
‘No, Anharat. I am not hiding.’
‘You liar! I see you standing before me, drawing breath.’
‘Indeed you can. Tonight I opened a gateway, Anharat, to bring me through to you. But where is tonight? It is four thousand years in the past and I am with the army of the Three Kings, and tomorrow you and I will fight above the battlefield. You will lose. Then I will prepare myself for the Great Spell. You can help me complete it. Our people can have a world of their own!’
‘This is the world I want!’ snarled Anharat, drawing the dagger. Leaping forward he slashed the blade at his brother. Emsharas swayed aside. His form shimmered.
And he was gone.
Bakilas sat quietly in the dark. The Illohir had no need of sleep. There was no necessity to regenerate tissue. All was held in place by magick fuelled by feeding. The Lord of the Krayakin needed no rest. He was waiting in this place only because his horse was weary.