‘Everyone was dead, their bodies broken. They lay strewn about the room as if deposited there by a Twinmoon hurricane. Only Pikan’s body was missing. One of my team members lay on the stone floor near the door: a big young man named Harren Bonn, the son of a Falkan farmer. He had been claimed by Nerak just before the spell that sealed the door was broken. Seeing his limbs twisted at impossible angles, I tried to move him back against the wall, to leave him sitting in a more dignified position, but when I touched him, he was like jelly. I am not certain there was a bone left intact in his entire body.
‘I was weeping helplessly now, and I left him there, shaded red in my bloodied vision. It will not matter if I live another thousand Twinmoons; Harren Bonn will always remain blood-red in my memory.’ Gilmour’s voice shook.
Garec moved to sit beside his mentor and friend. He put a comforting arm around the old man.
Gilmour smiled thanks at him. ‘As I came down through the tower, I saw carnage everywhere. I had never really thought about that word before: it was just a word. Made flesh, it’s simply indescribable, and I hope and pray you never have to experience it for yourselves. There were bodies of Larion Senators at every turn, many apparently unharmed – except for an open wound on their wrists. I tried to comfort myself by saying over and over again, “They must be sleeping.” Those who had put up a fight were torn to pieces. I spent an aven sorting through limbs, fingers and ears: I wanted every Larion to rest for eternity intact. The stone floor was coated in blood. Several times I found little more than a few pieces of a body – someone I had known that morning, a scholar or an educator: a colleague, a person, a friend.
‘When I reached the balcony above the grand hall, I finally saw Pikan. She was resting her elbows on the ledge, gazing down into the darkness below. She had been hideously injured from the blast; through the half-light I could see part of her face had been torn away, leaving strands of her lovely flaxen hair falling over an open wound that stretched from her ear down to her chin. Her robes had been torn off in the explosion; all she wore now was a pair of short breeches: little enough to stave off the season’s chill.
‘When she turned to face me, I knew my suspicions had been well-founded. “Well, hello, Fantus,” Pikan’s body called to me in Nerak’s voice. “Do you care to join us in here?” She reached up and began fondling her breasts, squeezing and pressing them together as a man might in the throes of passion. “It’s cosy with just us two, but we’ll make room for you.” The voice was Pikan’s now, but I knew she was gone. Nerak must have taken her an instant before she died in the tower. Now he held her by a thread, dangling her a breath away from eternal rest.
‘I wiped the blood from my eyes as Pikan made her way slowly towards me. My grip tightened on the broadsword. For a moment I thought I might stand and fight.’ Gilmour stared through the firelight into the darkness above the Estrad River for a moment. ‘But I didn’t. Fear overcame me and I fled like a child. I dropped the sword at Pikan’s feet and ran the length of the balcony at a full sprint. As I came to the far end of the room, I screamed a spell to open the windows and when they flew out on their hinges, I dived out into the night without a moment’s hesitation. The last thing I heard before I struck the ground was Nerak, laughing like a demon through Pikan’s broken body.
‘I shattered my shoulder and ankle in the fall, but that was just flesh and bone. My spirit took longer to recover. I have never lifted a weapon again, but I have spent the past nine hundred and eighty Twinmoons studying magic, just like Nerak.
‘He must have taken Lessek’s Key and the far portal that very night. He made his way south to Rona, killed Prince Markon and a number of other members of King Remond’s royal family. Then I’m guessing he travelled to Colorado, where he hid the only weapon that can destroy him in your bank, Steven.
‘I have waited half my life for Lessek’s Key. Now it is within our grasp, and I will use it to destroy the force that murdered my friends and brought death and terror to Eldarn.’ Gilmour took up his pipe after his long narration and smiled at his friends before moving off to his bedroll near the river. No one else said a word. There was too much to take in.
THE RONAN PIEDMONT
Next winter
Steven woke to cramp, and the sound of the river rolling by. He rolled over and, without thinking, checked his watch. It wasn’t there. It took a few seconds for him to remember giving it to Garec two days earlier. He could see Mark, already up and kneeling at the water’s edge. ‘What time is it?’ Steven called without moving.
‘I don’t know.’ Mark splashed cool water on his face. ‘The time here has my internal clock running like a drunk Pamplona tourist. The sun is up, so I guess it must be daytime.’
‘Insightful of you,’ Steven grunted as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked around: Brynne was dousing the vestiges of the evening’s fire with a pan of river water. Everyone else was missing. He pulled a clean tunic over his head and asked, ‘Where did they go?’
‘Good morning, Steven.’ Brynne waved, moving towards him. ‘They’ve gone to check traffic along the Merchants’ Highway. It’s not far from here; they’re concerned there may be soldiers moving north to search for us.’
‘Terrific. I was hoping we’d have another day of fleeing for our lives. I’m just beginning to get skilled at it.’ He crawled to his feet and went to join Mark by the river.
‘Oh, by the way,’ Brynne called after him, ‘it’s still about two avens before midday.’
‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Mark. ‘It’s about seven o’clock.’
‘First period is just about to start.’ Mark stood up and used his T-shirt to dry his face. ‘I bet my substitute is making a mess of the Industrial Revolution right now.’
‘Don’t feel bad about it,’ Steven teased. ‘With any luck we’ll have you home in time to teach your students about the Yalta Conference.’
‘Grand.’ Mark looked back towards the campsite. ‘What’s for breakfast?’
‘I don’t know,’ Steven shook the excess water from his hands and stood beside his friend, ‘but I can leave the two of you alone if you want to make your peace with Brynne.’
‘I’m not sure she wants to,’ Mark said, his face solemn. ‘I think she’s still angry that I tied her to a tree.’
‘Wouldn’t you be?’
‘Good point,’ he said as he slipped into his tunic and belted it around his waist. ‘All right, here goes nothing.’
Steven watched as Mark wandered back to where Brynne was busying herself rolling blankets and packing supplies, then turned to the river. He reflected on Gilmour’s fantastical tale of evil demons and homicidal magicians possessing Malakasian royalty. He didn’t even like fantasy literature: he liked logic, things that made sense, not the utterly impossible. And this was impossible: here he was, standing by a river in a grove of trees so similar to dozens of rivers and groves he had visited over his lifetime, and yet he was in danger – the sort of danger he could not even have imagined a week ago.
He was facing a journey he might not survive: that fact was beginning to sink in, to become less an external reality rearing up periodically to frighten him and more an inherent part of who he was. This river was different. This river was haunted by the terror awaiting them in Malakasia.
Like the evening before, Steven began to feel a need to pack up and rush to Welstar Palace, to get there as quickly as he could. Kneeling once again, he took a long drink and splashed cold water over his head. ‘We might not make it,’ he repeated several times as the water ran across his down-turned face and dripped onto the smooth rocks below. Slowly, Steven began to get used to the idea.
Mark moved around Brynne’s horse to help tie down her bedroll and saddlebags. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,’ he said without warning, ‘it’s just that we weren’t certain what was happening. We still aren’t certain what’s happening, but I know you want to help us.’ He looked down at his feet before adding, ‘I was afraid and I thought you might lead us into town to-’