Fall of Light (The Kharkanas Trilogy 2)

Silchas Ruin resumed. ‘We have sorcery at our disposal. The priest, Cedorpul, who will stand against Hunn Raal. By this, we may indeed negate the threat of magic. Accordingly, we return to the privilege of mere flesh and the will behind it. To the blade, brother, the clash that drowns all words.’

Wreneck studied Silchas Ruin, wondering what the lord had been wanting to say, instead of what he did say. It was strange to him, as the moment passed unremarked, that Anomander had not seen what he had seen. And, of those figu

res lining the berm, now numbering thousands, he saw how many of them looked peculiar, almost ghostly. He had no idea so many people lived in Kharkanas. But then, as he watched, he saw yet more appearing, rising from the earth of the berm.

The gods of the forest are back. But they don’t speak in my head. They but show me what no one else here can see.

The Tiste are attending. From every age. Since the very beginning. Come to witness.

Why?

‘Very well,’ Anomander said. ‘Now, shall we ride to the Citadel?’

Wreneck’s gaze was drawn away from the ghostly multitude, so crowding the living that many stood half inside mortal bodies. A flicker of colour had caught his eye: a flag rising above the highest tower of the Citadel. He pointed and said, ‘Milords! What is that?’

Both men lifted their heads.

‘That, young Wreneck,’ said Anomander, ‘announces the approach of the Hust Legion.’

‘We must send a rider to them,’ said Silchas Ruin, his tone suddenly bridling with pleasure. ‘They can march directly to the south flats on the edge of the Valley of Tarns.’

‘The place of battle. Yes, we will do that.’

‘Brother, would you ride with me to the place of battle? There are details to discuss regarding our disposition. Urusander is barely half a day away, after all, and indeed, should he seek haste, we could well greet the dusk with the clamour of iron.’

Anomander seemed momentarily disconcerted. His gaze shifted back to the Citadel. ‘It was my thought that I meet with Mother Dark and her Consort. If only to explain my defiance of her will in this matter. Lord Draconus will understand, perhaps, before she does. I would seek his alliance.’

‘Draconus knows enough to stay away from the battle,’ said Silchas.

That drew Anomander’s attention. ‘You have spoken to him? There have been tragedies I must share with him, for which I am responsible—’

‘Brother,’ said Silchas levelly, ‘Draconus prepares to flee.’

Hurt and confusion marred Lord Anomander’s face. And, whispered a dull voice in Wreneck’s head, disappointment.

‘Ivis and his company,’ said Silchas, ‘are at your disposal. Perhaps, brother, Ivis should ride with us to Tarns?’

Anomander passed a hand over his eyes, and then nodded. ‘That would delight him.’

‘Allow me to deliver the invitation,’ Silchas said, gathering up his reins, then kicking his mount forward, passing Anomander and then Wreneck, who now moved up to just slightly ahead of the Son of Darkness.

‘Milord, I must go to the Citadel.’

‘Indeed?’

‘To speak to someone.’

Anomander said, ‘Proceed in my name, and at the palace gate deliver the news that I ride with my brother to Tarns, and, depending on Urusander’s patience, I may or may not return to the Citadel before the battle.’ He studied Wreneck for a moment, and then removed a thin silver torc from his left arm. ‘This bears my sigil, but even this may prove a dubious escort – the city is crowded and its mood is pensive. Hide my gift, Wreneck, whilst you traverse the streets.’

Wreneck moved up to take the torc.

‘You wouldn’t rather wait for hostage Sandalath and the others?’

‘No, sir. I want to go now.’

‘I envy your vision, so clear of eye, so sharp in its desire.’

Wreneck glanced over at the ghosts massed along the berm, and then back to where Ivis had settled the camp, and there he saw many other ghosts, as many as the trees in the forest, or perhaps more. ‘Milord,’ he said, ‘I don’t always see what I desire. Sometimes, what I see, I don’t understand at all.’