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they held. The oceans drank their cities, and their culture is all but lost to us.
‘But there is one great centre of their might, named in all the grimoires. In the Mountains of the Moon lies the citadel of Kar-Barzac. The arcane strength of the Elders still flows there, and with it we will find not only the instruments to maintain our rule, but the secret of immortality. Win this war and we will live forever, our dreams made true, our lusts sated, our desires fulfilled.’ This time he let the cheering mount, and stood arms folded, drinking in the adulation. Gradually the sound died away. Zhu Chao spoke again.
‘To those who are chosen to ride against the Wolves I say this: kill them all, and their whores and their brats. Leave nothing alive. Burn their bodies and grind their bones to powder. Consign their dreams to the ashes of history!’
As the renewed cheering died down he strode from the dais, exiting the hall through a small side door. Followed by his captains he made his way to a suite of rooms in the western wing of the palace. Here he stretched himself out on a couch and bade his officers sit around him.
‘The plans are all set?’ he asked the first of his officers, Innicas, a wide-shouldered albino in his mid-forties, with a forked white beard and a jagged scar across his brow. His long hair was braided and his pink eyes, unblinking, shone with a cold light.
‘Yes, lord. Galen will see Karnak delivered to us. He has convinced him to meet with the Sathuli chieftain. He will be captured and delivered alive to Gulgothir. But tell me, lord, why do we need him? Why not just slit his throat and be done with it?’
Zhu Chao smiled. ‘Men like Karnak are rare indeed. They have power, deep elemental strength. He will be a worthy gift to Shemak, as will the Emperor. Two lords beneath the sacrificial knife. When has our master known such a sacrifice? And I shall enjoy watching both men beg for their lives.’
‘And the Source priests?’ enquired a second officer, a slim man with thinning, shoulder-length grey hair.
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‘Dardalion and his comical troop?’ Zhu Chao gave a dry laugh. Tonight, Casta. Use sixty men. Destroy their souls as they sleep.’
‘I am concerned, lord,’ said Innicas, ‘about the man, Waylander. Was he not allied with Dardalion many years ago?’
‘He is a killer. No more, no less. He has no understanding of the mystic arts.’
‘He slew nine of our warriors,’ pointed out Casta.
‘He has a step-daughter, Miriel. It is she who has Talent. And with him were two arena warriors named Senta and Angel. Also there was the renegade Belash. The timing of the attack was unfortunate, but they will not survive a second assault – that I promise you.’
‘I mean no disrespect, sir, but this Waylander does seem to show a spectacular talent for survival,’ said Innicas. ‘Do we know where he is?’
‘At this moment he is being pursued through Sathuli lands. He is wounded, alone – save for a mangy hound – and has little food and no water. The hunters are closing in. We shall see how far his talent for survival can be stretched.’
‘And the girl?’ asked the grey-haired Casta.
‘At Dros Delnoch. But she will join Kesa Khan. She will be at Kar-Barzac.’
‘You want her taken alive?’ asked Melchidak.
‘It matters not to me,’ answered Zhu Chao, ‘but if she is then give her to the men. Let them amuse themselves. When they are done, sacrifice her to the master.’
‘You spoke, lord, of the power of the Elders and immortality,’ said Casta. ‘What awaits us at Kar-Barzac?’
Zhu Chao smiled. ‘One day at a time, Casta. When the Nadir wolves are dead I will show you the Crystal Chamber.’
Ekodas lay in his pallet bed listening to the sounds of the night, the flapping of bats’ wings beyond the open window, the sibilant sighing of the winds of winter. It was cold, and the single blanket did little to retain body heat.
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In the next bed Duris was snoring. Ekodas lay awake, ignoring the cold, his thoughts focused on the Nadir woman, Shia. He wondered where she was, and whether she had found her brother. He sighed and opened his eyes. Moonlight was casting deep shadows from the rafters of the rough-wrought ceiling and a winter moth was flitting between the beams.