The shadow on the sheet gave a slight twitch. Morghien watched it carefully. King Emin kept perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Morghien as he waited. The shadow twitched again, then turned its head to look around the room.
Excellent. He reached out and placed a hand up against the invisible barrier cast by the circle. It was intact; everything was going according to plan. At twilight the Gods withdrew a little from the Land, but a tiny fragment of their selves was imbued in each of their servants who took holy orders. King Emin had done that years ago — albeit for reasons more practical than pious. The summoning was aimed at the only part of Lord Death available to someone of Morghien's strength at twilight — that sliver within King Emin.
He turned the lamp up and watched the darkness behind Emin as it strengthened and solidified.
'I imbue,' he said aloud, allowing the flow of magic to increase and run forward towards the circle. The shadow trembled. 'I imbue,' he repeated, summoning the image of a hammer falling in his mind. Morghien had seen a mage-smith work his trade once, and had noted the directness required to weave magic into steel or silver, where the rhythm of the blows and the repetition of the words were as crucial as the strength of the wielder.
'I imbue,' he said a third time, pushing out as much magic as he could while signalling to Emin. As Morghien began to speak the words for a fourth time, Emin rose smartly from his crouching position and stepped out over the circle to join Morghien on the other side. The shadow lurched forward to follow, but was caught on the edge of the circle and rebounded, shuddering, as Emin wrenched himself from its grip. It stilled to a dark stain on the linen sheet.
Morghien blew out the lamp and plunged the room into near-darkness.
Both men blinked to adjust their eyes.
'It worked then?' Emin said, looking at the sheet. The shadow looked like a stain of some sort. Emin thought he could make out the top of the head and one arm, but he wasn't certain.
'It appears so,' Morghien said cautiously as he placed a restraining hand on his friend's arm. 'Don't break the circle yet, just in case.'
The two men stood watching the sheet in silence until Emin seemed to remember he was naked and started shivering again.
'Can I get dressed yet?'
Morghien nodded, his eyes not leaving the sheet. 'The circle must remain until after the sun is fully down.'
Emin unwrapped the bundle of clothes by the stool and quickly pulled on the breeches, then the boots. He was reaching for the shirt when Morghien suddenly stumbled sideways, as though he'd been struck in the shoulder.
'Morghien!' Emin shouted, grabbing his friend by the arm to stop him falling.
'Shit,' Morghien whimpered, supporting himself on the wall with one hand, 'He comes.'
Emin turned towards the circle and saw the air shimmer and prickle with tiny bursts of silvery-green light. A crashing sound came from nowhere and echoed through the small tower-room, sounding like the fall of a tombstone. Both men clapped their hands to their ears, wincing, as a second crash reverberated through their bodies. In the blink of an eye a tall, cowled figure appeared in the circle. The force of his arrival knocked them both backwards, but it was Emin who recovered his wits first. He dragged Morghien down to one knee.
'You think to bind me?' Death rumbled slowly.
The eight-foot-tall God towered over them both. His body was hidden by a long robe; in one hand He held a golden sceptre. With His free hand Death stroked the invisible barrier of the circle, His emaciated bone-white fingers and pitch-black, pointed fingernails leaving a trail of light in the air where they scored the barrier.
'No, my Lord,' Morghien gasped, flinching every time those fingers touched the barrier he'd created, 'I would never presume such strength.'
Death looked down at the sheet on the ground inside the circle. His face was hidden in the shadows of His cowl but Morghien felt His gaze burning like a flame.
'You presume too much.' There was a growl of anger in Death's voice and Morghien felt a flicker of panic. 'I see a traitor before me.'
'I had no choice,' Emin said, feeling the God's focus alight upon him. He chanced a look up and felt pulsing anger radiate over him, as Death's power had once burned in his veins. 'What was done in Scree was an abomination, but it was done to provoke a reaction; to undo the damage it did I must be free of its influence.'
'And so you betray your God,' came the booming reply. 'Traitors to my name are heretic and there is only one punishment for that.'
'My Lord,' Morghien repeated, 'can you not see the damage your wrath has done?'
'I have killed unbelievers. They are of no consequence.'
'The deaths are poisoning the Land against you, and Azaer exploits that.'
'Azaer is a shadow, nothing more. I fear no God, no mortal — and certainly no mere shadow.'
'That is what it is counting on,' Emin insisted, a feeling of desperation welling up inside him. 'It has made its weakness a strength. It goes unnoticed and unchecked.'
'You have no need to fear the shadow,' Death growled. 'You need fear only me. You have walked away from the vow you took, and that makes you my enemy.' It appeared to the two men watching that the figure looked off into the distance over Emin's head. 'You — and your blood; perhaps my punishment should be the son you watch over at night.'
'No!' Emin shouted, but before he could say any more, Morghien had plunged his hand into the pocket of his jacket.
'We are not your enemy,' he roared, rising. 'You are blinded by what has been done to you, and you cannot see the danger emerging from the shadows!'
'Kneel before your God,' Death snarled, his voice crashing against their ears with savage force. 'Kneel, or I shall strike you down and consign your soul to Ghenna.'
'You will do neither,' Morghien snapped, 'and nor will you threaten a newborn out of pique.' His fingers closed around the Skull in his pocket and a surge of energy flooded his body. 'Our war is with the shadow — whether or not you see the threat, I will not let you stand in our way.'
'You threaten me?' Death roared, raising his sceptre.
In response Morghien pulled the Skull from his pocket and held it in the air between the chalk circles. 'You are weakened, diminished by what happened in your temple in Scree. I have felt the Reapers in Lord Isak's shadow. They are broken free of your grip and the loss has wounded you gravely. I may not have the strength to defeat you, even with this Skull, but you know the hurt it can cause you. To kill me will cost me more than you can afford.'
'You declare war on your God? Such foolishness shall be your damnation.'
Death's reply was considerably quieter. Morghien could feel His nttention fixed firmly on the Crystal Skull. For creatures of magic, fighting from within a containing circle would be like an army
fighting up a mountain slope, with every step requiring huge effort. The power of one of the Crystal Skulls would be like a river running down that slope.
'I do not,' Morghien said as calmly as he could with magic coursing through his body. 'You are the Lord of Final Judgments and no mortal can deceive you. So I say this: I believe we serve your interests. I believe we do what must be done and that if we fail, so will our Gods. For this reason I must threaten you, for I cannot allow even you to stop us.'
'You do not lie,' Death said in an emotionless voice. 'As misguided as your words are, I see your belief.'