‘Silence!’ Malekith’s shout reverberated around the hall, echoing from the distant walls. ‘There will be no surrender.’
‘How can we resist with our armies scattered?’ asked Illeanith. The sorceress, daughter of Thyriol, asked the question in a whisper, voice full of fear. ‘It will take too long to withdraw our garrisons to the city.’
‘We will have a new army, one that Imrik and his fawning minions will never defeat,’ said Malekith.
The Witch King stood up, armoured feet ringing on the stone floor as he took several steps closer to the ring of wizards. He held out a smoking hand and cut the air with a finger. A line appeared, bulging with energy; a torrent of formless colour and noise screamed from the tear in reality. The line widened to a gap, pulled apart by clawed hands to reveal leering daemonic faces. A scaled arm reached through.
The rift into the Realm of Chaos wavered. The arm withdrew as the rent sealed itself, disappearing with the sound of tearing metal. It had lasted a few moments, but left no trace of its existence.
‘Daemons?’ said Urathion.
‘An endless army to command,’ said Morathi, stepping into the circle, her skull staff in hand. ‘Immortal and impervious. What better host to serve the lord of Nagarythe?’
‘It would take all of our power to summon a handful of daemons,’ said Drutheira, once an acolyte of Morathi, now a fully accomplished sorceress. Her dark hair was twisted with silver and her pale skin painted with runes. ‘There are yet the artifices of Vaul that can destroy a daemon’s form, enough weapons to defeat any host that we might conjure.’
‘We do not have to summon them,’ said Malekith. ‘We need only to break the bars that keep them imprisoned in the Realm of Chaos.’
There was silence as the cabal considered what this meant. It was Urathion that broke the quiet.
‘You mean Caledor’s vortex?’ said the sorcerer.
‘It cannot be done,’ said Drutheira. ‘The vortex is powered by the lodestones of Ulthuan. We would have to destroy them, and most are in the lands of our enemies.’
‘It can be done,’ said Morathi. ‘Not by destroying the lodestones, but by overloading them.’
‘A sacrifice,’ said Malekith. ‘Together we will create a surge of dark magic, enough to disrupt the harmony of the vortex. Its own power will do the rest, dragging that blast of energy into its heart.’
‘Is this wise?’ asked Urathion. ‘Without the vortex, the Realm of Chaos will be set free upon the winds of magic. Not even together can we control that power.’
‘It does not need to be controlled, simply directed,’ said Malekith. He raised a smouldering finger to the circlet set into his helm. ‘With that power turned to our ends, I have the means to focus its energies. Our enemies will be swept aside by a tide of daemons. Only those favoured by me shall survive. I will have both victory and vengeance in one stroke.’
The cabal looked at each other. Some seemed eager, others more concerned.
‘What other choice do we have?’ asked Auderion, dragging black-nailed fingers through his white hair. His gaze flickered nervously from one member of the cabal to another, never stopping. ‘We cannot hold out forever, and our lives will be forfeit.’
‘Our spirits are already forfeit,’ whispered Illeanith. ‘Bargains we have made and promises of blood have not been kept. I will not go easily to that fate.’
‘Imagine their terror,’ said Drutheira. ‘Imagine the horror unleashed upon those that scorned us, abandoned us. We will rid the world of the Dragontamer’s legacy, reverse the mistake he made and erase the insult upon Aenarion’s legend.’
Some of the cabal remained silent, not daring to speak though their unease was as palpable as the heat from Malekith’s armour. Worried eyes glittered in the gloom.
Urathion bowed his head to Malekith.
‘Forgive my objections, master,’ he said, dropping to one knee. ‘What must we do?’
‘Return to your castles and gather such acolytes and slaves as you still possess. Morathi will furnish you with the details of the ritual you must undertake. At the appointed hour, midnight ten days from now, we will begin. The blood of our sacrifices will draw the dark magic and our incantations shall send it as a storm into the vortex.’
‘What of the Sapherians?’ said Illeanith. ‘My father and his mages will try to stop us.’
‘How can they?’ said Morathi. ‘By the time they know what is happening, it will be too late for them to intervene.’
‘Even if they do, they do not have the power to stop us,’ said Malekith. ‘The vortex was wrought by Caledor Dragontamer at the height of his strength. Not even your father can contest such a spell.’
There were no further questions or objections. The sorcerers and sorceresses bowed and departed, leaving Malekith alone with Morathi.
‘If you are wrong?’ said Morathi. ‘If we cannot harness the vortex?’
‘The daemons will rampage across the world and all will be destroyed,’ said Malekith.
‘And you are sure you wish to risk such an end?’ said Morathi.
‘Risk it?’ Malekith replied with a harsh laugh. ‘I embrace it! If Ulthuan will not be mine, then none will rule. I would rather our people perished than see them laid low by the hand of another. Better it is to see the world torn asunder than suffer this eternal torment.’
‘I would not seek to break the vortex, but to channel it away from the lodestones into fresh vessels,’ Teclis explained, his expression thoughtful. ‘The stasis upon the Isle of the Dead is already weakening. The Dragontamer has sent his spirit to Imrik and has passed on his wisdom to me. In this time when the Realm of Chaos expands the vortex is not powerful enough. Only a living, immortal host can contain the power unleashed.’
‘What happened with Nagash and the Wind of Shyish…? The Great Necromancer has become the embodiment of death magic. You would do this with the other seven winds?’
‘The return of the gods is not a metaphor, Malekith, it is a necessity. Lileath has shown me how it can be done.’
‘And these other avatars, who would they be? You have chosen them already?’
‘You would be one, your majesty. Think on what you have achieved wrapped as you are in a shell of sorcery, as bound to your armour as a fish is to the ocean. Now imagine being freed, becoming an incarnation of magic, a source of power that would never wane.’
Malekith imagined it, and the thought was pleasing.
‘Alarielle, obviously, yourself, Imrik – who else is on your list?’
‘For the moment it does not matter, your majesty. Much can happen between now and the moment the vortex is released. The winds will find their way to the most suitable vessels – we need only unshackle them from the lodestones and help them on their way.’
‘That might cause some problems,’ Malekith said with an affected wave of the hand. ‘You weren’t there so I forgive you forgetting, but the last time I tried to “unshackle” the vortex, I sank two kingdoms beneath a wave.’