David Gemmell. Winter Warriors

The priest acknowledged Antikas with a curt nod and moved past him to sit at a table at the far wall.

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‘What is he doing at a tavern?’ asked Antikas.

‘He says that this place was built on the ruins of a shrine, and that demons will avoid it. He is leaving with us tomorrow.’

Antikas rose and moved across the room. The priest glanced up. He had a thin, ascetic face, with a prominent nose and a receding chin. His eyes were pale and watery. ‘Good evening to you, Father,’ said Antikas.

‘And to you, my son,’ answered the priest.

‘What is it you fear?’

‘The end of the world,’ said the priest, his voice dull and toneless.

Antikas leaned forward on the table, forcing the man to meet his gaze. ‘Explain,’ he ordered him.

‘Words are useless now,’ said the priest, once more averting his gaze. ‘It has begun. It will not be stopped. The demons are everywhere, and growing stronger each night.’ He lapsed into silence. Antikas found it hard to suppress his irritation.

‘Tell me anyway,’ he said, sitting down on the bench seat opposite the man.

The priest sighed. ‘Some weeks ago Father Aminias, the oldest of our order, told the Abbot he had seen demons over the city. He maintained the city was in great danger. Then he was murdered. A few days ago a woman came to me in the temple. She was a priestess, and midwife to the queen. She had been blessed with a kiraz – a three­fold vision. I spoke with her, and tried to interpret it. After she had gone I began to study the ancient scrolls and grimoires in the temple library. There I came upon a prophecy. That prophecy is being fulfilled now.’

‘What are you saying?’ persisted Antikas. ‘You think the sun will fall from the sky, that the oceans will rise up and destroy us?’

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‘Nothing so natural, my son. Both the old emperor and Skanda were, I believe, descended from the line of three ancient kings. These kings, and a wizard, fought a war long ago. It was not a war against men. There are few details of it now, and those that remain are hope­lessly distorted, and full of bizarre imagery. What is clear, however, is that it was a war against non-humans

– demons, if you like. All the ancient tomes tell of a period when such creatures walked among us. The three kings ended that period, banishing all demons to another world. There are no details now of the spell that was wrought, but one of the tomes tells of the patterns of planets in the sky that awesome night. A similar pattern is in the heavens now. And I believe – with utter certainty

– that the demons are returning.’

‘Tomes, stars, demons – I understand none of this, priest,’ snapped Antikas. ‘Offer me proofs!’

‘Proofs?’ The priest laughed aloud. ‘What proofs would be sufficient? We are in a city being torn apart every night by those possessed. The prophecy talks of the Sacrifice of Kings. The priestess told me her vision showed the old emperor was killed in such a manner. Now Skanda is dead. You are a soldier. Were you there when his army was destroyed?’ Antikas nodded. ‘Was he slain on the battlefield, or taken to a secret place, and then killed?’

‘It is not my place to discuss these things,’ said Antikas. ‘But, for the sake of argument, let us assume he was. What do you take it to mean?’

‘It means the fulfilment of prophecy. Two of three kings sacrificed. When the third dies the gateways will open, and the demons will be back among us. In the flesh.’

‘Pah!’ snorted Antikas. ‘And there your argument falters, for there is no third king.’

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‘Not so,’ said the priest. ‘In the words of the prophecy the sacrifices will consist of an owl, a lion and a lamb. The owl represents wisdom and learning. The old emperor was, as you will recall, a learned man, who founded many universities. Skanda, may his soul burn, was a ravening lion, a destroyer. The third? A lamb is a newborn creature. A child, therefore, or a babe. I am not a seer. But I do not need to be, for I saw Queen Axiana recently, and her child is soon due. He will be the third king.’