It exploded into bright, glittering fragments, and a great rush of cool air filled the hall.
Ignoring the fallen priest Angel walked wearily back to Senta’s body and lifted it, letting the head fall against his shoulder.
‘Let’s take him back to the sunlight,’ he said.
20
Zhu Chao was trembling, sweat trickling down his cheeks. He struggled for calm, but his pulse was racing and he could feel the erratic hammering of his heart.
He cannot reach you, he told himself. He is one man. I have many men. And there are the dogs. Yes, yes, the dogs. They will sniff him out! He sat down at his desk and stared at the open doorway, where the two guards waited, swords drawn.
The hounds had been shipped from Chiatze, formidable beasts with huge jaws and powerful shoulders. Hunting dogs, they had been known to drag down bears. They would rend him, tear the flesh from his bones!
The sorcerer poured himself a goblet of wine, his trembling causing him to spill the liquid over several parchments lying on the oak-topped desk. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered now, save that he lived through this fear-filled night.
‘Lord!’ pulsed Casta.
‘Yes?’
‘One of the dogs is dead. The others are sleeping. We found the remains of fresh meat by one of them. I think he poisoned them. Lord! Can you hear me?’
Zhu Chao was stunned, and felt his reasoning swept away on a tide of panic.
‘Lord! Lord!’ pulsed Casta. But Zhu Chao could not respond. ‘I’ve ordered all the men into the main palace grounds,’ continued Casta. ‘And we’ve sealed the ground floor, and I have men guarding all three stairways.’
The sorceror drained his wine and poured a second goblet. The spirit steadied his failing courage. ‘Good,’ he pulsed. He stood -and swayed, catching hold of the side of the desk. Too much wine, he realised, and drunk too swiftly. Never mind. It would pass. He took several deep breaths, and felt his strength return.
Swiftly he crossed the room and stepped into the corridor. The two guards snapped to attention. ‘Follow me,’ he ordered, and marched towards the stairwell leading to the dungeon chambers. He made one man walk before him on the stairs, the other following sword in hand. At the foot of the stairwell they emerged into a torch-lit corridor. Three men were playing dice at the far table. They sprang to their feet as Zhu Chao stepped into the light.
‘Bring the prisoners to the Inner Sanctum,’ he said.
‘Lord!’ pulsed Casta, his voice triumphant.
‘Speak!’
‘He is dead. One of the guards found him scaling the roof. They fought, and the assassin was killed and hurled to the stones below.’
‘Yes!’ roared Zhu Chao, his fist sweeping up into the air. ‘Bring his body to me. I will consign it to Hell!’ Oh, how sweet life felt at that moment, the words in his mind singing like a nightingale: Waylander is dead. Waylander is dead!
Leaving the men he entered a small room at the end of the corridor, locking the door behind him. From a hiding place beneath a desk of oak he removed the Fifth Grimoire and studied the ninth chapter. Closing his eyes he spoke the words of power and found himself floating above the walls of Kar-Barzac. But there was no way past the pulsating force that radiated from below the fortress. Then, as suddenly as sunshine following a storm, the power faded and died. Zhu Chao was stunned. Swiftly he sent his spirit questing into the labyrinth below the citadel and found the priest Ekodas nursing the crystal. He could feel the surging of the man’s Talent, his growing ambition, his burgeoning desires.
He spoke to the priest, sensing a kindred spirit, and when Ekodas said he would bring the crystal to Gulgothir, Zhu Chao knew he spoke the absolute truth. He fought hard to keep his triumph from Ekodas, and returned to his palace.
Waylander was dead. The crystal was his. And in a few short moments the souls of kings would be dedicated to Shemak.
And the son of a shoemaker would be the Lord of the Earth!