He paused as pain swamped him.
I should never have come, he thought. This venture has ruined me. He saw again the contempt in the Kriaz-nor’s eyes as he called for the death of the girl, and remembered the night of horror when the Kraloth had ripped into the nobles of Kydor.
‘I am not an evil man,’ he whispered. ‘The cause was just.’
He tried to hold to the teachings of his youth, about the greatness of Kuan-Hador, and its divine purpose to bring peace and civilization to all peoples. Peace and civilization? Desiccated corpses were strewn around Deresh .Karany, who was summoning the Lord of Demons.
‘I am going home,’ said Eldicar Manushan.
He limped towards the main doors and dragged them open, stepping out into the storm-swept night.
And came face to face with an angry crowd, led by the priest Chardyn.
There were many conflicting thoughts and emotions within the Source priest Chardyn as he led the townspeople up the hill towards the White Palace. First and foremost was a terrible fear. Righteous anger had led him to make his speech at the temple, allied to an underlying belief that an army of common folk would prove a match for a few score soldiers and a magicker.
But when the march began many of the townspeople had drifted away. And when the storm came even more hung back. And so it was that Chardyn arrived at the White Palace leading a bedraggled group of around a hundred people, many of them women.
He had promised them that the Source would show His power. He had pledged a shield of thunder and a spear of lightning. Well, he had the thunder and the lightning – and with it the sheeting rain that had drenched his followers, cooling their ardour.
Very few of the people with him had weapons. They had not come to fight. They had come to witness the miracle. The stone-mason, Benae Tarlin, was carrying an iron spear, and, to his right, Lalitia was holding her dagger. Benae had asked Chardyn to bless the spear, and the priest had solemnly laid his hands upon it, and in a loud voice had intoned, ‘This is a weapon of righteousness. May it blaze with the Light of the Source!’ That had been back in Carlis, and the crowd had cheered mightily. What Chardyn had noticed was that the spear was old and dull, the point pitted with rust.
The small crowd crested the hill and saw the palace. ‘When will we see the magic?’ asked Benae Tarlin.
Chardyn did not answer. His white robes were soaked and he felt a great weariness upon him. His own anger had long since been replaced by a feeling of impending doom. All he knew was that he would enter the palace and do his best to wring the throat of Eldicar Manushan. He marched on, Lalitia beside him.
‘I hope you are right about the Source,’ she said.
As they came closer the doors of the palace opened, and Eldicar Manushan stepped out to meet them.
Chardyn saw him, and hesitated. Thunder rumbled above them, and Chardyn could feel the fear in the crowd swelling. Eldicar Manushan looked at him. ‘What do you want here?’ he called.
‘I am here, in the name of the Source, to put an end to your evil,’ replied Chardyn, aware that his normally powerful voice lacked conviction.
Eldicar moved out from the doorway. The crowd fell back. ‘Leave here now,’ boomed the magicker, ‘or I shall summon demons to destroy you all!’
Benae Tarlin backed away from Chardyn. Lailtia swore and stepped in. ‘Give me that!’ she hissed, snatching the iron spear from the stone-mason’s hand. Spinning on her heel Lailtia took two running steps towards Eldicar Man-ushan and launched the weapon.
The surprised magicker threw up his arm but the spear plunged into his belly. He staggered and almost fell. Then he grabbed the iron haft with both hands, dragging it clear. ‘I cannot die!’ he shouted.
Thunder boomed as he spoke – and a blast of lightning tore down from the sky. The iron spear in Eldicar’s hand exploded in a tremendous flash of white light. The ma-gicker’s body was hurled high into the air. The force of the explosion threw Lailtia from her feet. Chardyn ran to her, helping her up. Then he walked slowly towards the charred body of Eldicar Manushan. One arm was completely gone and a part of the man’s chest had been torn open. A blackened section of the iron haft had crashed through Eldicar’s face and was jutting from the rear of his skull.