In his mind he returned to that fraught, nightmarish realm within the sword Dragnipur, the legions of chained souls ceaselessly dragging their impossible burden. and at the heart of the wagon, a cold, dark void, from whence came the chains. The wagon carries the gate, the gate into Kurald Galain, the warren of Darkness. The sword gathers souls to seal it. such a wound it must be, to demand so many souls. He grunted at a wave of pain. Silverfox's small hand reached up to touch his arm.
He almost flinched at the contact.
I will fail you all.
CHAPTER FIVE
He rises bloodless from dust,
with dead eyes that are pits
twin reaches to eternal pain.
He is the lodestone
to the gathering clan,
made anew and dream-racked.
The standard a rotted hide,
the throne a bone cage, the king
a ghost from dark fields of battle.
And now the horn moans
on this grey clad dawn
drawing the disparate host
To war, to war,
and the charging frenzy
of unbidden memories of ice.
Lay of the First Sword
Irig Thann Delusa (b. 1091)
Two days and seven leagues of black, clinging clouds of ash, and Lady Envy's telaba showed not a single stain. Grumbling, Toc the Younger pulled the caked cloth from his face and slowly lowered his heavy leather pack to the ground. He never thought he'd bless the sight of a sweeping, featureless grassy plain, but, after the volcanic ash, the undulating vista stretching northward beckoned like paradise.
'Will this hill suffice for a camp?' Lady Envy asked, striding over to stand close to him. 'It seems frightfully exposed. What if there are marauders on this plain?'
'Granted, marauders aren't usually clever,' Toc replied, 'but even the stupidest bandit would hesitate before trying three Seguleh. The wind you're feeling up here will keep the biting insects away come night, Lady. I wouldn't recommend low ground — on any prairie.'
'I bow to your wisdom, Scout.'
He coughed, straightening to scan the area. 'Can't see your four-legged friends anywhere.'
'Nor your bony companion.' She turned wide eyes on him. 'Do you believe they have stumbled into mischief?'
He studied her, bemused, and said nothing.
She raised an eyebrow, then smiled.
Toc swiftly turned his attention back to his pack. 'I'd best pitch the tents,' he muttered.
'As I assured you last night, Toc, my servants are quite capable of managing such mundane activities. I'd much rather you assumed for yourself a higher rank than mere menial labourer for the duration of this great adventure.'
He paused. 'You wish me to strike heroic poses against the sunset, Lady Envy?'
'Indeed!'
'I wasn't aware I existed for your entertainment.'
'Oh, now you're cross again.' She stepped closer, rested a sparrow-light hand on his shoulder. 'Please don't be angry with me. I can hardly hold interesting conversations with my servants, can I? Nor is your friend Tool a social blossom flushed with enlivening vigour. And while my two pups are near-perfect companions in always listening and never interrupting, one yearns for the spice of witty exchanges. You and I, Toc, we have only each other for this journey, so let us fashion the bonds of friendship.'
Staring down at the bundled tents, Toc the Younger was silent for a long moment, then he sighed. 'I'm a poor excuse for witty exchanges, Lady, alas. I am a soldier and scant else.' More, I've a soldier's scars — who can naught but flinch upon seeing me?
'Not modesty, but deception, Toc'
He winced at the edge to her tone.
'You have been educated, far beyond what is common for a professional soldier. And I have heard enough of your sharp exchanges with the T'lan Imass to value your wit. What is this sudden shyness? Why the growing discomfort?'
Her hand had not moved from his shoulder. 'You are a sorceress, Lady Envy. And sorcery makes me nervous.'
The hand withdrew. 'I see. Or, rather, I do not. Your T'lan Imass was forged by a ritual of such power as this world has not seen in a long time, Toc the Younger. His stone sword alone is invested to an appalling degree — it cannot be broken, not even chipped, and it will cut through wards effortlessly. No warren can defend against it. I would not wager on any blade against it when in Tool's hands. And the creature himself. He is a champion of sorts, isn't he? Among the T'lan Imass, Tool is something unique. You have no idea of the power — the strength — he possesses. Does Tool make you nervous, soldier? I've seen no sign of that.'
'Well,' Toc snapped, 'he's shrunken hide and bones, isn't he? Tool doesn't brush against me at every chance. He doesn't throw smiles at me like lances into my heart, does he? He doesn't mock that I once had a face that didn't make people turn away, does he?'
Her eyes were wide. 'I do not mock your scars,' she said quietly.
He glared over to the three motionless, masked Seguleh. Oh, Hood, I've made a mess of things here, haven't I? Are you laughing behind those face-shields, warriors? 'My apologies, Lady,' he managed. 'I regret my words-'
'Yet hold to them none the less. Very well, it seems I must accept the challenge, then.'
He looked up at her. 'Challenge?'
She smiled. 'Indeed. Clearly, you think my affection for you is not genuine. I must endeavour to prove otherwise.'
'Lady-'
'And in your efforts to push me away, you'll soon discover that I am not easily pushed.'
'To what end, Lady Envy?' All my defences broken down. for your amusement?
Her eyes flashed and Toc knew, with certainty, the truth of his thoughts. Pain stole through him like cold iron. He began unfolding the first tent.
Garath and Baaljagg arrived, bounding up to circle around Lady Envy. A moment later a swirl of dust rose from the ochre grasses a few paces from where Toc crouched. Tool appeared, carrying across his shoulders the carcass of a pronghorn antelope, which he shrugged off to thump on the ground.
Toc saw no wounds on the animal. Probably scared it to death.
'Oh, wonderful!' Lady Envy cried. 'We shall dine like nobles tonight!' She swung to her servants. 'Come, Senu, you have some butchering to do.'
Won't be the first time, either.
'And you other two, uhm, what shall we devise for you? Idle hands just won't do. Mok, you shall assemble the hide bath-tub. Set it on that hill over there. You needn't worry about water or perfumed oils — I shall take care of all that. Thurule, unpack my combs and robe, there's a good lad.'
Toc glanced over to see Tool facing him. The scout grimaced wryly.
The T'lan Imass strode over. 'We can begin our arrow-making efforts, soldier.'
'Aye, once I'm done with the tents.'
'Very well. I shall assemble the raw material we have collected. We must fashion a tool kit.'
Toc had put up enough tents in his soldiering days to allow him to maintain fair attention on Tool's preparations while he worked. The T'lan Imass knelt beside the antelope and, with no apparent effort, broke off both antlers down near the base. He then moved to one side and unslung the hide bag he carried, loosening the drawstring so that it unfolded onto the ground, revealing a half-dozen large obsidian cobbles collected on their passage across the old lava flow, and an assortment of different kinds of stones which had come from the shoreline beyond the Jaghut tower, along with bone-reeds and a brace of dead seagulls, both of which were still strapped to Toc's pack.