‘A gathering, and some excitement. K’rul, we have met too many fellow Azathanai. Such encounters leave me despondent.’
They set out, at K’rul’s slow, halting pace. ‘We are afflicted with the stature of gods without the incumbent sense of responsibility. Our endless wandering is in fact an eternal flight from worshippers, no different from a father fleeing his wife and children.’
‘And between the man’s legs, the opportunity to repeat the whole mess. With another woman, in another place. K’rul, you impugn my good deeds.’
‘It’s all down to actually acknowledging the need to grow up, something so many men have trouble with. A weathered visage and a loose child behind it. A door slammed in the face of every potential lesson, the rapid thump of footsteps off into the night.’
‘An entire people can succumb to this same crime,’ observed Skillen Droe. ‘Irresponsible flight redefined as progress.’
‘Yes, the delusion of godhood belongs to us all, mortal and immortal alike. Can we say, with any certainty, whether some other god exists, a being beyond all of us, and we to it as children to a parent?’
‘Orphaned, then, for no hand clasps our own, no mother or father guides us. In our abandonment, K’rul, we but flail, lost and unknowing.’
They had been
spotted. A dozen or so veered Jhelarkan now paced them on the plain, black and shaggy and loping as if moments from closing in for the kill.
‘I dare say,’ ventured K’rul, ‘we would twist from that hand’s grip at the first opportunity, even unto denying its very existence. You see, Skillen Droe, the dilemma of our wilfulness?’
‘I see that children will delude themselves into the guise of grown adults, aping adult concerns, whilst their child selves crouch amidst the basest of emotions, the jealousies and spites, the blind wants and desperate needs, few of which can ever be appeased without the shedding of blood, or the rendering of pain. Children ever delight in the suffering of others, particularly when delivered by their own hand. Does it not fall to ones such as us, K’rul, to set a moral standard?’
‘And how did that fare among these K’Chain Che’Malle of yours?’ K’rul asked. ‘Your moral guidance yields you the form of a winged assassin.’
‘Yes, well. Sometimes the notion of right and wrong is best delivered in a welter of furious slaughter.’
‘As the child within you lashes out.’
‘K’rul, I recall, at last, how often conversation with you becomes infuriating.’
‘I speak only to encourage humility, something we Azathanai woefully lack. For this reason, Skillen Droe, did I open my veins and let the blood of power flow into the world.’
‘A child encouraging other children. I see chaos in the offing.’
K’rul grunted. ‘It’s always in the offing, old friend.’
Four of the giant wolves pulled away from the pack and approached, tails lowered and ears flattened.
‘We are not welcome,’ said Skillen Droe, unfolding his wings once more.
‘Patience,’ K’rul replied, holding up his bloodless hands.
The wolves halted a few paces away, and the lead one sembled, rising on its hind legs as blurring took its form. The wolf fur rolled back to become a heavy cloak, and from the confused uncertainty of the creature’s transformation a woman’s face appeared, followed by the rest of her mostly naked body. She was whipcord lean, her belly flat and her breasts small. Startling blue eyes looked out from a heart-shaped face, framed in a mane of black hair.
‘More strangers,’ she said. ‘Despoiling sacred ground.’
‘Our apologies,’ K’rul said. ‘We saw no cairns.’
‘Because you don’t know what to look for. We are done with cairns, as the Tiste looters destroyed all that they found. Now, we sanctify the earth with blood and piss. With splintered bones. All who despoil holy ground are slain.’
K’rul sighed and turned to Skillen Droe. ‘It seems we will have to fly after all.’
‘No. As I said, I am weary. Though I do not desire it, I will kill these rude creatures if necessary. Ask this woman what afflicts the camp beyond? There is an Azathanai there. I can feel it. I believe the Jhelarkan celebrate the return of their ancient benefactor.’
‘Only you would call celebration an affliction.’ K’rul turned back to the woman. ‘My companion and I regret our trespass. We are but travelling through, seeking the shores of the Vitr. Even so, if Farander Tarag is in the camp beyond, we would pay our respects to our Azathanai kin.’
The woman scowled. ‘Farander Tarag has severed all ties to the Azathanai. Divided in perpetuity, they now embrace the wild, and join us in the ancient glory of the beasts. They will not greet you as kin. Begone, both of you.’
K’rul grunted in surprise. ‘A D’ivers ritual? Farander has reached back far indeed.’