‘We must kill Gorben,’ said Anindais suddenly, his voice harsh and cold as the winds that hissed through the peaks.
Nazhreen gazed sullenly at his cousin. ‘And how do we do that?’ he countered. ‘His armies have vanquished ours. His Immortals are even now harrying our rearguard.’
‘We should do now what I urged two years ago, cousin. Use the Darklight. Send for the Old Woman.’
‘No! I will not use sorcery.’
‘Ah, you have so many other choices then, cousin?’ The tone was derisive, contempt dripping from every word. Nazhreen swallowed hard. Anindais was a dangerous man, and Nazhreen’s position as a losing Emperor left him exposed.
‘Sorcery has a way of rebounding on those who use it,’ he said softly. ‘When you summon demons they require payment in blood.’
Anindais leaned forward, his pale eyes glittering in the firelight. ‘Once Resha falls, you can expect Gorben to march into Naashan. Then there’ll be blood aplenty. Who will defend you, Nazhreen? Our troops have been cut to pieces, and the best of our men are trapped in Resha and will be butchered. Our only hope is for Gorben to die; then the Ventrians can fight amongst themselves to choose a successor and that will give us time to rebuild, to negotiate. Who else can guarantee his death? The Old Woman has never failed, they say.’
‘They say,’ mocked the Emperor. ‘Have you used her yourself then? Is that why your brother died in so timely a fashion?’ As soon as the words were spoken he regretted them, for Anindais was not a man to offend, not even in the best of times. And these were certainly not the best of times.
Nazhreen was relieved to see his cousin smile broadly, as Anindais leaned in and placed his arm around the Emperor’s shoulder. ‘Ah, cousin, you came so close to victory. It was a brave gamble and I honour you for it. But times change, needs change.’
Nazhreen was about to answer when he saw the firelight glint from the dagger blade. There was no time to struggle or to scream, and the blade plunged in between his ribs, cutting through his heart.
There was no pain, only release as he slumped sideways, his head resting on Anindais’ shoulder. The last feeling he experienced was of Anindais stroking his hair.
It was soothing . . .
Anindais pushed the body from him and stood. A figure shuffled from the shadows, an old woman in a wolfskin cloak. Kneeling by the body, she dipped her skeletal fingers into the blood and licked them. ‘Ah, the blood of kings,’ she said. ‘Sweeter than wine.’
‘Is that enough of a sacrifice?’ Anindais asked.
‘No – but it will suffice as a beginning,’ she said. She shivered. ‘It is cold here. Not like Mashrapur. I think I shall return there when this is over. I miss my house.’
‘How will you kill him?’ asked Anindais.
She glanced up at the general. ‘We shall make it poetic. He is a Ventrian nobleman, and the sign of his house is the Bear. I shall send Kalith.’
Anindais licked his dry lips. ‘Kalith is just a dark legend, surely?’
‘If you want to see him for yourself I can arrange it,’ hissed the Old Woman.
Anindais fell back. ‘No, I believe you.’
‘I like you, Anindais,’ she said softly. ‘You do not have a single redeeming virtue – that is rare. So I will give you a gift, and charge nothing for it. Stay by me and you will see the Kalith kill the Ventrian.’ She stood and walked to the cliff-face. ‘Come,’ she called and Anindais followed. The Old Woman gestured at the grey rock and the wall became smoke. Taking the general’s hand, she led him through.
A long dark tunnel beckoned and Anindais shrank back. ‘Not a single redeeming feature,’ she repeated, ‘not even courage. Stay by me, general, and no harm will befall you.’
The walk was not long, but to Anindais it stretched on for an eternity. He knew they were passing through a world that was not his own, and in the distance he could hear screams and cries that were not human. Great bats flew in a sky of dark ash, and not a living plant could be seen. The Old Woman followed a slender path, and took him across a narrow bridge that spanned an awesome chasm. At last she came to a fork in the path, and moved to the left towards a small cave. A three-headed dog guarded the entrance, but it backed away from her and they passed through. Within was a circular room stacked with tomes and scrolls. Two skeletons were hanging from hooks in the ceiling, their joints bound with golden wire. A cadaver lay across a long table, its chest and belly cut open, the heart lying beside the body like a grey stone about the size of a human fist.
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