The only exit was a hole in the wall that led onto a long sloped tunnel. As he followed it, walking as quickly as he could without breaking into a run, he remembered the first time he'd walked this way, a little more than a year ago. He found it hard to recognise the youth he had been then: he had changed in every possible way; the snow-white skin on his left arm and shoulder was far from the least welcome.
As he walked he began to detect the strange acrid smell he recalled from his previous visit, and listless threads of dormant magic in the air, drawn to the beast and the magical artefacts that had been entrusted to its care. He reached the cavern sooner than he'd expected and lingered a moment at the crudely cut archway that led in. He allowed the ball of pale blue light to dissipate, blinking to let his eyes adjust. There was the faintest of green tints outlining the room, tracing the flowing line of the ceiling and walls and producing a faint sparkle from the quartz nodules that studded the cavern's central pillars.
'Welcome, Lord Isak,' came the unexpected boom in his head.
He gave a start at the sheer volume, and it took him a moment to gather his wits. He crossed the threshold and entered the cavern, peering around, trying to make out the shape in the gloom that was Genedel. The last time he had been here the dragon had been resting in the centre of the room, between the crystal-studded columns, but he could not see it there now.
'Ah, thank you,' Isak said eventually.
'What brings you to my cavern?' There was a shuffling sound in some far distant corner of the cave which prompted Isak to peer forward.
'I- Where are you?'
'Where I choose to be. The sound you heard was a gargoyle; there are a number of entrances to this cavern system and more than one sort of carrion-eater comes down here.'
Isak froze. It was hard to tell whether there had been rebuke or insult there, but even so, Genedel's words had sounded less than friendly.
'Do they bother you?' he asked tentatively.
T am a dragon; do you think much bothers me for long?'
He swallowed, remembering the sight of Genedel in battle. 'No, no I suppose not. Why do they come down here then?'
'They have their reasons. Some to pick over the bones of my prey, others to escape the dangers of the city. Your breed does not welcome others to its city, and of late I have sensed even daemons walking the Land.'
Isak nodded. 'It's not been a lot of fun for anyone up there.'
'Yet you appear to have thrived. Why have you come down here, young lord?'
Isak hesitated. He was growing increasingly nervous of the fact that he still couldn't see the dragon anywhere. Since it was speaking directly into his mind the only source of echoes were his voice and whatever carrion-eaters were lurking in the dark.
'You had an agreement with Lord Bahl, one that appeared to benefit both the Farlan and yourself.'
'And you come to negotiate?' The edge of hostility in Genedel's tone suddenly magnified. 'Bearing weapons that have killed Qods, you come to my cavern to strike a bargain?'
'I- No! No, that wasn't the reason!' Isak blurted out in protest. He looked down. While he wasn't wearing Siulents, Eolis was buckled to his hip as always and fused around the guard was a Crystal Skull. 'Gods, I didn't even-'
'Those objects have been used to kill and enslave my kind over the millennia,' the dragon snarled, causing Isak to wince and clutch his head. The darkness above him suddenly changed into a swift flowing movement. Isak retreated a pace as the silent swirl of dark curved back on itself and a huge horned head appeared barely two yards away from his own.
'They are not welcome here, and neither are you,' Genedel growled. 'Leave now or negotiations shall be swift!'
Isak heard the low rushing sound of an enormous pair of lungs drawing in breath and took another step back.
'But I didn't-'
'Go!'
Isak stared a moment longer at the dragon's opening mouth and enormous teeth before his survival instinct kicked in and he threw himself to the right, barely managing to stay on his feet as he stumbled through the dark up the slope and back to the palace. As he ran, the roar of an enraged dragon rumbled down the tunnel after him.
CHAPTER 27
Tor Salan was a city of footsteps; merchants, labourers and clattering hooves. Within its borders there were two small rivers, but neither was big enough for much trade and the city existed solely on the happy coincidence of its location: it was the heart of the West, sitting at the centre of a web of trade routes that brought both wealth and diverse population.
As he sat in the darkened guardroom of Tor Salan's northern gate, Major Amber realised the city was as quiet as it had likely been in decades.
The city that never slept; the city that night never truly darkened -in one savage move the Menin had stripped away its names to leave just a collection of buildings and people, shocked into fearful silence. Without its thousand mages, Tor Salan cowered like a whipped dog anticipating the next blow. Without its mages, Tor Salan's streets remained dark and empty – the only light and movement Amber could see came from the massive oil lamps flanking the monument they'd built to Lord Styrax's victory. The squads of soldiers keeping curfew were barely necessary, but Lord Styrax used it to impose routine on his newest troops. Thus far the tachrenn of the Ten Thousand had reported no unrest. Amber knew that every day the Chetse soldiers patrolled the streets in Lord Styrax's name, wearing Lord Styrax's crest, was another day closer to winning their wholehearted loyalty.
We're a simple breed, he thought, running his tongue around his mouth for a last taste of the pale wine he'd been drinking. Qive us routine, food and women, and we'll bark on anyone's command.
He had been sitting there, concealed by shadow, for half an hour, staring out through the open doorway at the empty street beyond, before anyone but the patrolling troops passed. When they did come it was in two groups. He could see each distinctly, despite the city's new-found gloom now that there were no mages to light its streets. The first looked little different to the Menin guards posted around the gate, unconsciously walking in time with each other, as soldiers always did. The second group came a few minutes later; their furtive voices and glances were enough to arouse suspicion, if the patrols hadn't already received specific instructions.
Amber sighed. He was there as a nursemaid, to usher the groups quietly out of the gate and ensure there was no confusion between troops. When he walked out of the guardroom, the first group saluted as one. The second, four men and a woman, barely broke the flow of their conversation to give him a cursory inspection.
The big soldier didn't bother taking umbrage. He looked up and gave a short whistle which was swiftly echoed from the vantage point above the gate. A head appeared to look down at the men below, then disappeared again before the muffled clank of gears sounded and the gates began to open ponderously. As soon as they were wide enough, a small figure hopped through the gap and approached Amber.
'All ready?' she asked after offering a sloppy salute. Amber nodded to the woman. In the darkness he could just about make out the easy smile on Kirl's face, made lopsided by a broken jaw from years back. He'd realised one lazy evening that he'd known Kirl longer than any other woman in the Land. There had never been anything between them – a great shame, Amber thought; every time he felt the years lift off his shoulders when he saw that smile, but she had been attached to the Cheme Third Legion for longer than he'd served in it.
'What do you call that?' spat one member of the second group. The rest of them fell silent and looked at Amber.