The echo of the spell raced away behind them to other parts of the palace as a stunned silence fell over Isak and Ehla.
'Now it is safe for you to walk,' said the last king in Isak's head, leaving a sense of satisfaction lingering as he receded unbidden back into the depths of Isak's soul. The white-eye cast a sideways look at Ehla; her face remained inscrutable and she paid him no attention as she stared ahead.
As though in response to that final crash echoing away, a gust of wind came up from behind him, bringing another taste of smoke on the air. That stirred Isak into action and he replaced the Skulls before advancing to the foot of the spiral staircase.
After a slight hesitation he began to walk up the stairs cautiously, his shield raised above him. The warm glow of raw energy enveloped his body. Ehla followed him, two paces behind. After half a dozen steps, the stairs remained still and quiet, the stones of the wall sat neatly in line. The only trace of magic was a dwindling metallic scent and a sooty scorch-mark near the top.
Isak moved softly when he reached the scorched bit, but nothing happened and before he was really prepared he found himself before a narrow iron-studded door. He was inspecting it as Ehla caught him up, hut he could detect no magic bound into it, and Aryn Bwr kept silent in his mind. With a shrug, Isak lowered his shoulder, ready to smash the door down, when the gnarled head of the witch's staff appeared in front of him.
She slid into his field of vision, careful to keep from touching the wall. 'That door is reinforced' she said into his thoughts.
'You don't think I can break it down?' Isak replied. The energy shud¬dering through his limbs was crying out to be used.
'I'm. quite sure you can, but using power for power's sake? Don't kill when it is not necessary; don't destroy when a little elegance will suffice.' She pressed a pale hand against the iron lock and closed her eyes.
Abashed, Isak released his grip on the magic raging over his armour and pushed it back into the Skull. He eased himself back to allow Ehla a little more room, hut she didn't seem to notice as she concentrated.
A click came from inside the door, then the grind and clunk of bolts sliding back. A slight tremble ran through her body as each one shot open, but her voice rang strong in his head as she opened her eyes and smiled at him. 'There, now all it needs is a little push.'
Isak reached out the emerald pommel of Eolis and nudged the door with it, but instead of just swinging open, as he'd expected, the scrape of metal heralded the entire door crashing down onto the floor of the room beyond it. Under his helm, Isak raised his eyebrows in surprise, and a pleased sound came from Ehla's direction, almost as if she could see his face.
'I certainly didn't expect you.' The voice was unexpected.
Isak peered inside; the room was dimly lit by a single large candle on a bracket to the right of the doorway. The objects at the far end were nothing more than shadows. Ahead of him, still seated at a long desk supported by four thin legs, was the Menin necromancer, Isherin Purn.
Isak ducked through the doorway, his sword and shield ready. 'Who did you expect?' he asked cautiously.
'Someone else.' Purn's command of the Farlan dialect was flaw-less, better than Isak's, despite the fact that he was Menin by birth. 'Aracnan, to be precise.'
'Aracnan? Is he in the city?' Isak was getting a little confused.
Purn shrugged. 'Not that I've seen, but I asked myself who would not mind the mobs roaming the city, and be able to break through my defences so adeptly. I once – ahem – borrowed something that belonged to Aracnan. He claimed it back without resorting to unpleasantness, but I've always suspected he was just biding his time.' The necroman¬cer tilted his head a little to the side. 'Perhaps he wouldn't have made quite so much noise getting in here, but the question remains why you've bothered to make the journey when we've never even met.'
'Can't you guess?'
Purn thought for a moment. 'That damned vampire gave you my servant? The wretch; Nai never could stop his chattering. I doubt you even had to torture him.'
Isak said nothing. If the necromancer was in the mood to talk, perhaps just to prolong his life another few minutes, there was always the chance he would say something of interest.
'So you're aware of my orders,' Purn continued, his hands starting to slowly move.
Isak reached out an armoured hand and the necromancer's arms were stretched out and held fast, bonds of magic looped around them. Isak narrowed his eyes. An object hung from Purn's belt, a slim shard of glass encasing a raven's feather, or something similar, and glinting in the weak light. With a thought, Isak tore it away from the mage and across the room for Ehla to snatch out of the air.
'An escape plan?' Isak asked. The witch nodded, cradling the object in both hands as she inspected it.
'A useful little toy, I think I'll keep this for myself.' 'Try anything else like that and I'll pull your arms off,' he said conversationally.
'You're going to kill me anyway,' Purn pointed out. There was no panic in the Menin mage's voice; he sounded as calm as a monk after prayers.
'But I had intended to do it cleanly,' Isak said. 'I promise you, it can hurt a lot more if you annoy me, whether I should be leaving as quickly as possible or not.'
'A fair observation,' Purn said with infuriating acceptance. 'I've recently learned not to underestimate a white-eye's determination.'
'Explain,' Isak commanded, causing the strands of magic to tighten by way of encouragement.
'You're here to kill me; at any other time I'd be fighting tooth and nail to stay alive. Today, however, the sun dawned with a blessing for me.'
'I asked you to explain,' Isak warned.
Purn gave a thin smile that grew wider as he spoke. 'Men of my profession often find themselves party to bargains with the creatures of the dark. Upon my death a number of debts were set to be col¬lected, but the Lord of the Menin has done me a great service. My slate is wiped clean.'
You still have Death to answer to,' Isak said.
The necromancer dismissed the comment with a wave of the hand, Every man must answer to Death; that I am in a position to worry about it is more than satisfactory, a boon I could not have hoped for.' Since his hands were restrained, he dipped his head towards Isak. ' Lord Styrax faced down one of the greatest of daemons this day – I advise you to remember that when he reaches your lands.'
'Is he all they say.'' Isak asked, trying to control the trepidation in his voice. Kastan Styrax had defeated a daemon? First Lord Bahl, then
a creature of the Dark Place; was there anything that could stop the man? Images from his dreams filled Isak's mind: a fanged blade driving into his gut, a black-armoured knight who would mean his death. I know I can't stop him, I've always known that.
Purn laughed. 'All they say? I have heard soldiers and courtiers sing his praises, but how could they really understand? There is a proph¬ecy that says his standard will fly above every city in the Land, but that does not interest me, and I suspect neither does it interest Lord Styrax. Empty men strive for glory or power, for flags and gold and nations on bended knee. The great care only for the stars and the heavens above.'
Isak glanced at his left hand. Encased in silver, the skin underneath remained a perfect snow-white, unchanged since he'd called the storm down onto him on the palace walls in Narkang. The memory of soldiers fighting on the wall reminded him that time was not on his side.
He stepped forward with grim resolve, Eolis raised. 'Then when I see your lord, I'll warn him that those who reach too high end up burned. Give my compliments to Lord Death.'
CHAPTER 28
At General Gort's signal, the columns of light infantry advanced with flaming torches held high against the darkness, marching down the Bearwalk, the wide avenue that ran almost directly south from the New Barbican. It would take them most of the way to Six Temples. They were exposed and vulnerable on that wide avenue, but Gort was determined to keep a tight grip on his growing fears. That he wasn't exactly sure what was frightening him was making his imagination run riot.