‘Gone,’ repeated the prince. ‘Nearly half of our keeps. Thirty-two prominents.’ His voice was rigid. He had removed his ceremonial helmet and his face was striking – pale and harsh, with brutal, angular features. ‘There are many souls we will never recover.’
Aurun shook his head, dazed by the scale of the defeat. His chest felt tight. ‘There must be a way. You are the Morn-Prince. Surely you are able to–’
‘They are gone. You know why these temples were built, Lord Aurun. If our ancestors are not anchored to prominents, they go the way of every other soul.’ The prince was squeezed awkwardly into the chair opposite Aurun, his voice dangerously soft. ‘They go to the Nadir, Aurun. To the necromancer. They go to Nagash.’
Aurun gripped the arms of the chair. It was rare for anyone to use the name of the soul-thief so openly. ‘But how? The Iron Shroud kept us hidden all this time. Even when the other princedoms fell. Why are we in danger now?’
‘The Great Necromancer’s power has grown. The Unburied tried to warn me, but Nagash’s power has muffled their voices and muddied my vision. I knew there was a problem, but I thought I still had time. I thought I would still be able to complete my work. The necromancer has performed an act of great sorcery, Aurun. The Unburied showed me a black pyramid turned on its head, ripping souls from the sky. After all these centuries, the necromancer has played his final hand.’ There was a fire snapping in the hearth beside them, and Volant stared into the flames. ‘This is a new death magic. Whatever he has done is too powerful even for the Iron Shroud. Nothing is safe anymore, not even Morbium.’
Aurun thought of the little girl in the cart, out on the wynds, with only half a dozen Gravesward to watch over her.
Prince Volant leant closer. ‘My messenger should have explained all of this. Why are you still here?’ The two men had met before, as children, in the Lingering Keep, but Volant gave no sign of recognising Aurun. ‘Why haven’t you acted?’ he demanded.
‘Your messenger did talk of mordants destroying temples, but that is not a thing we need be concerned with here. We have heard the same vague warnings as you, my prince, and we have been preparing for months.’ He tapped his armour. It was a new design, cunningly crafted by Aurun’s artisans, beautifully engraved and studded with white gemstones. ‘We have refined and strengthened our defences, your highness. Every aspect of the Barren Points has been tempered and readied. You have not seen us in action before, but now I will show you what this prominent is capable of. No mordants could hope to breach these walls, whatever Nagash has done.’
The prince studied him in silence, but Aurun noticed that he was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that the wood was starting to creak.
‘Where have they come from?’ asked Aurun. ‘I have heard of an occasional outbreak of flesh-eaters, but never whole armies entering the princedom.’
The prince stared at him for a moment longer, then replied in the same soft voice. ‘The Iron Shroud has been damaged. Morbium has been revealed to the other princedoms – lands desecrated by the necromancer before you or I were born. The mordants can now see us. They can cross our borders as though we are just another territory. They have travelled down the wynds, murdering the gatekeepers. They’re a plague, sweeping through the princedom, devouring everything. Our ancestors mean nothing to them. They are insane.’
Aurun felt the darkness pressing in, suffocating him. Then he recalled the legions of men he had trained and armed. ‘We can stop them, your highness. This invasion will halt at the Barren Points. And the victory will be all the sweeter with you at our side. You have skill to match the necromancer. You are the Morn-Prince. The wisdom of the Unburied is in your blood. Their power is in your hands.’
‘I am not a god. And I am no match for a god. What power I have is bound to the Lingering Keep. Outside my palace I can do little.’ Volant’s voice was still neutral, and Aurun could not gain any idea of what the prince was feeling. Was he furious or relieved?
‘I intended to gather every soul in the princedom and return them to the capital.’ Some of the rigidity had slipped from his voice, and for a moment, he just sounded like an exhausted man. ‘I have lost hundreds of my own royal Gravesward.’
‘Is he here, then? Is Nagash in Morbium?’
‘No. The mordants are animals. They are revolting, inhuman things. But they bleed and they die. They are not born of necromancy. Perhaps they pay some kind of allegiance to Nagash, but they are too feral to be his true allies. They serve nothing but their own vile hunger. If the Great Necromancer’s gaze had fallen on us, we would be facing spirit hosts rather than these mindless flesh-eaters. His sorcery has toppled our gates, but it was not specifically directed at us. He has summoned a great power and cast it over all the underworlds. All of Shyish. I do not think he has even noticed our existence yet. The mordants are savages. They have no idea what they’ve found.’ Volant shrugged and poured himself a cup of wine. ‘But they will destroy us just the same.’
‘Destroy us? How could you say such a thing?’
The prince hesitated, then shook his head, the cold, flat tone returning to his voice. ‘I can do little out here on the wynds, but it’s a different matter in the capital. With the help of High Priestess Lhosia, I have been working on a new defence, a new Iron Shroud. We may not be able to safeguard the whole of Morbium anymore, but I have found a way to hide the Unburied in the capital, even against this new power the necromancer is wielding. I provided her with a powerful relic called the Cerement Stone. She is currently inspecting our defences, but I have been assembling the Unburied in the Lingering Keep so that when she returns, I can harness their souls through the stone and Lhosia’s rites and preserve them.’ He finished his wine and poured another cup. ‘I have sent word to all the temples. Everyone who still can is heading to the capital. All the prominents have been destroyed or abandoned.’ He paused. ‘Apart from yours.’
‘So that’s why the lights have died?’ Aurun looked out into the darkness. ‘The Gravesward have taken the Unburied back to the capital?’
‘You are not listening. Half the fortresses have been destroyed. They have sunk into the Eventide. The souls are gone. Caught in the nets of the necromancer. And without the souls of ancestors to keep them afloat, the prominents have fallen beneath the dead waters.’ The prince shook his head. ‘And I cannot guarantee that everyone who fled will make it to the Lingering Keep. The mordants are too numerous. They have taken many of the wynds. Even the Gravesward will have a hard fight crossing those bridges, especially when burdened with their ancestors’ caskets.’
Aurun shook his head. Only the thought of the caged corpses outside stopped him laughing in disbelief. ‘This cannot be, your highness. You would have me believe that in a matter of weeks Morbium has gone from impregnable to defeated. This princedom has defied the necromancer for centuries. How can it have so easily collapsed?’
Prince Volant sipped his wine, studying Aurun over the rim of his cup. ‘The mordants are headed here next,’ he said, ignoring the question. ‘We heard word of them everywhere we went. Yours is the last light in the sky. They are coming for you.’
‘Which is what you meant when you said we only had a few hours to prepare our defence. Why are we sitting here? I will muster the Gravesward and prepare the ballistae. The archers are already assembled. I will ready the defences.’